Strange Goings on at Haverford

On April 21, 2019

The countryside is abuzz with stories of the latest visitors to Haverford Castle. Everyone knows that, when she is in residence on Mondays, Her Grace welcomes a selected visitor for afternoon tea; sometimes more than one. Rumour suggests that some of these visitors come from far afield.

None of her previous guests have been as strange as those seen entering the castle grounds this week. Monsters, some say; growling monsters with glowing eyes. Others speak of carriages with no horses; still others of strange styles of clothing the most exotic of imaginations could not have created.

Your correspondent cannot claim to know the truth of where they came from or how, but can only report what passed in front of my eyes.

Five couples visited Her Grace. The first pair were on horseback; the second in a buggy, much like that used by country vicars. Their clothing was not at all in the common fashion — the women wore sweeping skirts with waists at the natural level, and the men had long coats and narrow neck ties rather than cravats. But they were nothing to those who followed.

The third couple likewise rode on horseback, but both wore tight pantaloons in a soft blue shade. Yes, gentle reader, the woman, as well as the man, wore pantaloons.

The fourth couple rode some kind of two-wheeled machine, with a light fixed to the front that glowed brighter than a hundred candles. Even more startling than the light, the machine roared like a cotton mill or some other infernal engine. Like the third couple, these two wore blue trousers and calf-high boots, to which they had added black leather jackets. They also covered their heads with shiny head-gear in the shape of a ball.

The fifth couple were perhaps the strangest of all, seated as they were in the vehicle that others called a horseless carriage. It was unlike any carriage I have ever seen, being a low wheeled machine in a shiny red, with a long snout and a short rear, the centre having doors that gave access to the seating where the couple sat.

What they wore, I cannot say, for the doors concealed it. Nor can I begin to suggest where they came from. Beyond a doubt, however, they were invited guests, as where the others, for all were greeted by the Haverford butler and invited inside.

Does Her Grace traffic with the fairies? Or is there a scientific explanation for these odd happenings? The Teatime Tattler hopes someone knows, for we are mystified and Haverford Castle is not answering our questions.

The five couples that so intrigue our Teatime Tattler correspondent are from my New Zealand stories, which you’ll find all together in my new collection, Hearts in the Land of Ferns. The book is coming out on 23 April, and will be a mere 99c in US dollars.

The historicals

Step into the 1860s in All That Glisters, set in Dunedin at the time of the first gold rushes. It was first published in Hand-Turned Tales.

Rose is unhappy in the household of her fanatical uncle. Thomas, a young merchant from Canada, offers a glimpse of another possible life. If she is brave enough to reach for it.

Forged in Fire is set in geothermal country just outside of Rotorua in 1886, and was first published in the Bluestocking Belles’ collection Never Too Late.

Forged in fire, their love will create them anew.

Burned in their youth, neither Tad nor Lottie expected to feel the fires of love. The years have soothed the pain, and each has built a comfortable, if not fully satisfying, life, on paths that intersect and then diverge again.

But then the inferno of a volcanic eruption sears away the lies of the past and frees them to forge a future together.

The contemporaries

These were all previously published in collections by Authors of Main Street.

A Family Christmas: She’s hiding out. He’s coming home. And there’ll be storms for Christmas.

Kirilee is on the run, in disguise, out of touch, and eating for two. Rural New Zealand has taken this Boston girl some getting used to, but her husband’s family and her new community have accepted her into their hearts. Just as well, since she’s facing Christmas and the birth of her baby without the man who wed her and sent her into hiding. What will he think when he comes home and discovers he’s a father?

Trevor is heading home for Christmas, after three years undercover, investigating a global criminal organization. He hasn’t spoken to his sister and grandfather since the case began. He hasn’t spoken to Kirilee, his target’s sister, since the day nearly nine months ago he married her and helped her escape. Will she want to stay married? And if so, will he?

In the heart of a storm, two people from different worlds question what divides and what unites them.

Abbie’s Wish: Abbie’s Christmas wish draws three men to her mother. One of them is a monster.

After too many horrifying experiences, Claudia Westerson has given up on men. She’s done everything possible to exorcise the men in her life, short of changing her name and appearance. They’re unpredictable, controlling and, worst of all, dangerous. Besides, all her energies are devoted to therapy for her daughter, Abbie, who is recovering from a brain injury.

But after Abbie is photographed making a wish for Christmas, Claudia begins receiving anonymous threats, proving her quiet refuge is not nearly hidden enough.

Who can she trust? Three men hope to make her theirs:

Jack, the driver from her daughter’s accident
Ethan, her daughter’s biological father
Rhys, a local school teacher and widower.

They all sound sincere, but which one isn’t?

Beached: The truth will wash away her coastal paradise…

Grieving for the grandparents who raised her and still bruised from betrayals in New York City, Nikki Watson returns to her childhood home in Valentine Bay.

Zee Henderson has built a new life in New Zealand: friends, a job he enjoys and respect he earned for himself, without the family name and money he left behind.

The attraction between Nikki and Zee flames into passion, until Zee’s past arrives on their doorstep and washes away their coastal paradise.

Buy links:

Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/Hearts-Land-Ferns-Tales-Zealand-ebook/dp/B07NDT826B

Amazon Aus: https://www.amazon.com.au/Hearts-Land-Ferns-Tales-Zealand-ebook/dp/B07NDT826B/

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Hearts-Land-Ferns-Tales-Zealand-ebook/dp/B07NDT826B

Apple iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/au/book/hearts-in-the-land-of-ferns-love-tales-in-new-zealand/id1451855017?mt=11

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/ww/en/ebook/hearts-in-the-land-of-ferns-love-tales-in-new-zealand

Barnes & Noble Nook: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1130533818?ean=2940155970781

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/921843

Dark Doings

By Guest author

On April 17, 2019

In Teatime Tattler

One of your Tattler contributors has cornered a witness to goings-on in Edinburgh:

“I am talking with Lady Eufemia here, down at the hotel in Edinburgh where THE DARK DUKE is rumored to have taken his bride for their post nuptials. However, they are not the story of the hour any longer, for the new Duchess of Canterbury has been seen having breakfast with the Honorable Hermione and the truly stupendous Countess of York.

“She wore a stunning confections, as always, her hat in perfect counterpoint, and showing off her pert countenance. In fact, according to our Lady Eufemia, it also showed up her tears as she went running from the dining room in a decidedly unladylike fashion. Tsk tsk.

“I ask the Lady Eufemia, what do you make of such shenanigans?

“Well, Lady Charissa, I am decidedly not one to gossip, but, I feel there is already a problem in the newlyweds marriage. And I think Lady Sarah may be at the crux of it. The duchess and countess have long been fast friends, but on the morning after the wedding, Lady Sarah slinks to another part of the dining room, only to run off crying a few minutes later? No, I tell you, Duchess Canterbury said something and Lady Sarah tried to compose herself. Then, when the upset just became to great, she left to find privacy to cry in.

“I am sure that we will see more of this rift back in town for the season.”

“Why, Lady Eufemia, you have the brightest smile when it is so engaged. Good luck with the season. I am telling you, something dark and nefarious is happening here. I just hope we learn the on dits first.”

About the Book

Dark times fall upon Lady Sarah and her friends as they try to unravel mysteries of who wants them dead.

Barely snagging Lady Lillian out of danger, Lady Sarah finds herself embroiled in some clandestine mischief. It causes her to doubt Lord Archer and her own feelings for him. But this fashion loving countess is not able to give up on her dreams and love for him. She enlists the aid of her two best friends to piece together what might really be happening. For she couldn’t bear it if he was a traitor to the crown.

Lord Archer’s hero in the spy organization he and his family had long been a part of are in Edinburgh to reveal a traitor to the crown. Only, his boss wants him to spy on the woman he loves and the best friend of her and his own sister. Could he have really fallen in love with a traitor? He keeps his own counsel from his boss. death.Upon deciding that there is no way his beloved could be a traitor, he recruits them all to uncover the dark underworld doings which could lead to Queen Victoria’s

While their lives and love are under attack, the two of them work to bring down one of England’s most powerful lords before he can kill the Queen.

Read **FREE** with Kindle Unlimited or buy it at: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07MDV3T6J/

An excerpt from Darkest Death

Hermione and Lady Lillian laughed. “I said, you’re thinking about women’s rights again, aren’t you? About the battles and the queens?”

A flush stole over her in embarrassment. “Yes,” she mumbled. “Though I do not see how you are always able to tell when such things cross my mind,” she added primly. “One might think you possessed some magical powers if one lived in the dark ages.”

They laughed harder. “It does not take a genius to see the look on your face. After these many years, I have come to learn this look quite well,” Hermione said. “It used to scare me witless, afraid Father would not approve of you and your ways.”

“Your father would not dare to have offended mine,” Sarah said, a little laugh escaping. “They had too many business interests together. How do you think we ended up playing together so much as children?”

Their food came, and the three of them ate and laughed, enjoying being women. Soon enough, Lord Clarence would come and steal Lady Lillian away again, so Lady Sarah would enjoy that morning together before her best friend left to Lord Clarence’s Scottish estates.

She’d have time later to think of her own marriage and other long-lost stories and dreams.

As they finished their meal, Sarah noticed a man having undue interest in their table.

“Hermione, Lillian, I wish to have tea before we all leave. Care to join me in the suite of rooms? I’ll have some sweets brought up. We must plan our next get together, and I find I need to go…” She flicked her napkin, trying to think of a probable story that would not be a lie. She let out a sigh. “I need to check a few things. I will fill you in when I have been able to finalize my thoughts on the matter.” A half-formed plan to stay in Scotland rather than go back for the slowly starting season began to play on her mind.

“Of course,” Hermione said. “I will be up when I finish this scone. I find I am hungry more and more these days.”

“I will wait for Clarence, and he can escort us both to the gardens then to your rooms,” Lillian said, a blush stealing over her cheeks once more. No doubt from calling His Grace by his first name.

“Then it is settled. I will meet you for tea. Thank you.”

She stood and shook her skirts out in a deliberate manner, trying to see the man from the corner of her eye. Most definitely watched her much too closely. A pillar stood near him. She would make her way around to there and try to listen in on the conversation. Call her paranoid, but after what they’d just gone through with Lady Amber and Lord Jarvis, on top of her ugly valentine, she would take no chances. Rather to feel foolish than feel dead. She nodded her head as she walked, then proceeded to listen.

About the Author

Leona Bushman is a USA Today best selling author. She is a crazy writer taught by dragons and known as Dragon Queen of the North. She loves to write and paint, even when her muse tries to muck things up. She chases after the three out of the five children still at home, and sometimes after the other two and the grandbaby. She has many hobbies like SCA, quilting, sewing, and gardening. Or, as one blogger succinctly put it, Leona Bushman is a whirlwind made of sheer will with a dash of clumsy to keep her grounded.

She can be found solving mysteries, exploring space, making art, and loving dragons and other creatures of the supernatural at these places:
Twitter: @L_Bushman
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorLeonaBushman
Facebook artist page: https://www.facebook.com/LeonaBushmanArtisteExtraordinaire/
Website: www.leonajbushman.com
Blog: www.lbushman.blogspot.com and www.lbushman.wordpress.com
Newsletter: http://madmimi.com/signups/374285/join

A Bucket List Interview with Caibre MacFearann, hero of Forever Hold My Heart by Rue Allyn

By Rue Allyn

On April 13, 2019

In Teatime Tattler

Dear Readers,

Allow me to introduce you to Caibre MacFearann, hero of Forever Hold My Heart, an historical romance novella by Rue Allyn.

Welcome to The Teatime Tattler Mr. MacFearann. I’m Samuel Clemens, editor and owner of this periodical.

Thank you for inviting me, Mr. Clemens. Please call me Ciabre.

Tattler: As you wish. The Tattler is well acquainted with Miss Allyn’s work and interviewing her heroes is a constant delight. Please, if you will, confirm the following information about your story.

Tattler: The title is Forever Hold My Heart by Rue Allyn, an historical romance novella that one would politely call steamy; that is not to be read by children under the age of seventeen?

Caibre: “Och, I suppose so, Mr. Clemens. T’ tell the truth, I concern myself no so much with the story as I do with makin’ sure t’ author gets m’ character right, and that she doesna malign Miss Aisla MacKai in any way,

Tattler: Well that’s forthright. I gather you and Miss MacKai are lovers?

Caibre: (He’s grinning.) I’d no say anything to damage Aisla’s reputation. Let’s say that I intend to propose to the lady and pray she’ll accept me.

Tattler: I wish you the best of luck Mr. MacFearann, er Caibre, as I’m sure our readership does too.

Tattler: Are you aware of the expression “kicked the bucket?”

Caibre: Oh, aye. That and a number of other, ah, quaint expressions are used in the Wyoming Territory where I make my home now.

Tattler: Then it would make sense to you to say that a list of things a person wants to accomplish, places to go, situations to experience, and so on have become known as a “Bucket List.”

Caibre: Aye, that does make sense.

Tattler: I’ll be asking you some questions about what you might include in your bucket list. But let’s get some basics out of the way first.

Caibre: Verra well.

Tattler: What is your age?

Caibre: Twenty seven or there abouts.

Tattler: You are definitely male?

Caibre: Are ye blind or daft? D’ye wish me to prove it to ye?

Tattler: No, no. Forgive me, please. Let’s just pretend I didn’t ask that.

Caibre: Suits me.

Tattler: Thank you. Where were you born?

Caibre: MacFearann Castle on the northeast tip of Scotland’s coast.

Tattler: What would you say is your profession?

Caibre: I’m a ranch owner. I raise beef cattle and horses for sale to a number of different markets.

Tattler: You’re the son of a nobleman. Does it embarrass you that you work for a living?

Caibre: Does it embarrass you?

Tattler: No Caibre, but I’m not of the nobility.

Caibre: I never had patience with that nonsense. Luckily, I’m a second son, and I dinna have t’ concern m’sel wi’ it. Proud I am that I’ve made a good life for m’sel in a hard country.

Tattler: Please describe yourself for our readers.

Caibre: I’ve dark hair, some might call it black. My eyes are blue. I’ve a muscular build and am considered tall.

Tatter: Tell us a little about yourself, please.

Caibre: Because my spendthrift da gave me naught with which to set m’sel up in life, I left the woman I love and Scotland for the western territories. As I said, I’ve no patience with the idea that a man should not earn his way simply because of his birth. I never thought to return to Scotland, but my older brother asked my help with our father’s funeral.

Tattler: Who is that woman you left behind, and have you seen her since your return to Scotland?

Caibre: Her name is Aisla MacKai. And no I havena yet seen her. So, ye must promise me ye’ll no publish this interview until after ye hear from me that all is well between Aisla and I or that all is finished.

Tattler: I so promise. Moving on, if you haven’t made a bucket list before, perhaps now would be a good time. Who knows? It might inspire another story from Miss Allyn. While you’re thinking about that list. Please tell us about some of your other favorite things, starting with your favorite toy as a child.

Caibre: Oh tha’s an easy one. My brother Eric and I were fascinated by all the old suits of armor and weapons scattered about MacFearann Castle. Whenever we could, we’d don as much of the armor as we were able and play at attacking each other with any of the weapons we could lift. We were in our teens before we were capable of using most of the weapons, and we weren’t very expert, so we dinna do much damage to each other. The castle walls, however, bear a number of chinks and gouges that resulted from our play.

Tattler: That is truly amazing and dangerous. Didn’t your father or your tutor stop you?

Caibre: Our da was never home, and we dinna have a tutor.

Tattler: Tell us about your best friend.

Caibre: That’d be Aisla MacKai.

Tattler: Isn’t she the woman you said you loved but never expected to see again?

Caibre: Aye. She’s also the one I told you I plan to ask to marry me. I’ll be seeing her again, whether she accepts my proposal or no. My da stole something from her family, and I’m honor bound to return it.

Tattler: So, if you’ve been apart these many years, what makes her your best friend?

Caibre: Simple. I’ve never had a better. I’ve many friends and acquaintances in Wyoming, but none of them share the kinds of memories and experiences I share with Aisla. We learned to ride together. We explored the highlands together. Until we got too old for it, we spent long days and nights out under the highland skies sharing stories and dreams. We always thought we’d marry, but we dinna count on my da’s feckless ways leaving me as penniless as she was. She deserved so much more than I could offer her as a younger man. I did the only thing that was right. I left her behind. I honestly thought she’d forget me. Seems I may have been wrong.

Tattler: What are two places you would like to visit before you die, and why?

Caibre: Anywhere Aisla is. I love Wyoming. Like the highlands it’s both harsh and beautiful. However, I’ve already been to both. For some place I’d never been, I think I’d like to visit Austria and Australia. I hear that they too are places of difficult beauty.

Tattler: Where is a place you would never like to return, and why?

Caibre: MacFearann Castle.

Tattler: But that’s your home?

Caibre: Nay any longer. ‘Tis my brother’s home, and I wish him joy of it. Whether I want to return to MacFearann Castle or not, I’m sure I will. I’ll no allow a little thing like stones and mortar to stop me seeing my brother.

Tattler: Who is someone you would like to meet, and why?

Caibre: I wish I had been in a time and place when I could have met Mr. Abraham Lincoln. From all I’ve heard he seemed a wise and canny man. A conversation with him could have yielded much to think on and much to learn.

Tattler: Who is someone you would like to avoid, and why?

Caibre: ‘Twould be rude of me to say.

Tattler: So there is someone?

Caibre: Aye, but sharing that person’s name would be wrong. I’ll no do it.

Tattler: I can accept discretion and courtesy. Last question. If you could time travel to any date, what would it be, and what would you do there?

Caibre: I’d go back in time to when the second Lord MacFearann committed a crime so heinous that it has tarnished the MacFearann name to this day.

Tattler: Heavens a centuries old scandal. Do tell us the details please. What did he do?

Caibre: That ancestor disagreed with a bishop over the boundary between his lands and where the Bishop wished to build a new abbey. Deeds and other documents show that my ancestor was in the right. But the Bishop claimed that the needs of the church were more important than the papers of men, and he started construction of his abbey on MacFearann lands.

Tattler: Opposing a land-grabber, be he prelate or king, seems the right thing to me and no crime.

Caibre: Had the second Lord MacFearann left it at that and let the courts decide, all would have been well and our name would no equal that of the blackest criminals. But he was no accustomed to waiting on the pleasure of anyone regarding what was his. He invited the bishop and his brethren to dinner. He and the bishop went apart, supposedly to resolve their dispute. They were gone a very long while. When my ancestor returned, he was alone. He told the brothers the bishop was indisposed and begged that they should partake of the meal. Their leader would join them anon.

Tattler: And did he?

Caibre: (His expression is grim.) Aye, in a manner of speaking. The brothers praised the skills of the MacFearann cook and asked why my ancestor did not partake. He explained that the meat was not to his taste but they should eat their fill. They cleaned their plates twice over—for the clergy were always hungry. When they thanked Lord MacFearann for the delectable dish, he told them they should thank the lord for allowing the Bishop to make their meal for them.

Tattler: You don’t mean . . .?

Caibre: Aye, I do mean. That while the second Lord MacFearann and the bishop were alone, my ancestor killed the man then had him roasted over a spit in the kitchens, carved and sauced and served to his holy brothers. Interestingly, every one of those holy men died within the year.

Tattler: I confess dear readers at this point I found myself unable to continue the interview. Mr. MacFearann was kind enough to leave me with a short summary of his story and some information about the author, which you will find below.

Blurb: The last thing Caibre MacFearann wants is to return to Scotland let alone be forced to stay there. But the chance to rekindle the lost love of his youth is too tempting to resist.

Losing Caibre MacFearann’s love once hurt so much that Aisla MacKai wants nothing to do with him when a blizzard brings the man to her doorstep. Kindness and human charity require that she give him shelter, no matter that her poor heart had never mended.

Where to buy Forever Hold My Heart: Forever Hold My Heart cannot be purchased. It’s release date is May 20, 2019. On that date the novella will be free to all of Miss Allyn’s newsletter subscribers and the members of the RAVON FB Community. The link for newsletter subscription is: https://www.rueallyn.com/ravonsubscribefhmh/.

The link for the RAVON Community is: https://www.facebook.com/groups/RAVONcommunity/

About Rue Allyn: Hi, I’m Rue Allyn, I write heart melting romance novels. Books about characters and adventures in which love triumphs at the darkest moment. The kind of hopeful, steal-your-breath romance that melts a reader’s heart. The type of book I like to read. Hope you will too

Author social medial links—

Rue’s Website: https://RueAllyn.com

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/rue-allyn

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/RueAllynFriends

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/default/e/B00AUBF3NI/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5031290.Rue_Allyn?from_search=true

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.es/search/pins/?q=rue%20allyn&rs=typed&term_meta[]=rue%7Ctyped&term_meta[]=allyn%7Ctyped

Twitter: https://twitter.com/RueAllyn

Horror at Hastings Manor

By Guest author

On April 10, 2019

In Guest author, Teatime Tattler

Auckland, New Zealand, 1884
Lady Ermintrude

You don’t mind if I whisper, do you? Hastings Manor is full of ears, and people’s best pastime is gossip. Thank goodness I’m not that type of lady. But I have to speak my mind.

My niece Isabel, the current Duchess of Sussex, has gone mad. She’s accommodating, here in Hastings Manor, street urchins. Street urchins! From Auckland’s rookery!

Good gracious, I need a sherry. These street urchins don’t even have decent names and the youngest one, called Trigger—ptf!—spat on his teaspoon to clean it. The older, the one called Murk, I think he’s a thief or a murderer. Apparently, he can turn himself invisible. Invisible! So inappropriate.

Those dark eyes mean trouble, mark my word, but Isabel thinks he’s charming. Poppycock, I say. I’m sure she’d like to dirty-puzzle with him. Oh, the horror. But does she listen to me? No one is listening to me anymore. A bunch of rebels they are. Now, where’s my sherry?

The Heart Collector

Auckland, 1884. The Supernaturals are frightened. Despite being able to do extraordinary things like teleporting or lighting a fire with a stare, a serial killer, the Heart Collector, is slaughtering them. He rips their chests open and removes their hearts.

While other aristocratic, nineteen-year-old girls spend time dancing, Isabel trains hard to become an MI7 agent—Military Intelligence Seventh Division, a crime squad run by Supernaturals. The Heart Collector murdered her best friend, and enrolling at MI7 is the best way to help catch the killer.

Isabel senses other people’s feelings as if they were her owns. But MI7’s leader is too worried about Isabel’s safety to let her join the team.

Eager to prove that her power is valuable, Isabel volunteers to meet Murk, a dangerous Supernatural man who can turn himself invisible. MI7 desperately tried to recruit him and failed.

She believes that her power is enough to convince Murk to become an MI7’s agent and help apprehend the Heart Collector. If he wants to attack her, his feelings will broadcast his intention, and she’ll be ready.

What Isabel isn’t ready for is to fall in love with the man who will collect her heart.

Excerpt

Chapter 1

Auckland, 1884

One of the perks of being a duchess and the lady of Hastings Manor was that I could make my own decisions.

Most of the time.

I bunched a corner of my long brocade skirt and climbed the sweeping stairs toward Victor’s office. The bustle, heavy with satin ribbons, bounced lightly, tapping on the small of my back.

On the landing, one of the little cleaning machines that roamed the house trotted around, buzzing as its brushes dusted the white marble floor. A puff of steam trailed behind it while its wheels and pistons whirred. I strode on, the star-bright tiles sparkling under my velvet slippers.

The butler bowed stiffly, carrying a tray with tea and cakes that smelled of cinnamon. “Your Grace.” He stepped aside to let me pass.

“Hollom.” My heels’ click-clacking noise died down on the blue rug covering the entrance in front of Victor’s office.

I raised my fist to knock but stopped inches away from the gleaming, polished oak wood, needing a moment to collect myself. Victor had to see reason. Convincing him that my role in the investigation was vital wouldn’t be easy, but I was nineteen and properly trained in combat. More or less. The point was, I could face danger.

My resolve wavered, and I bit the inside of my cheek. On light feet, I turned and slid inside my late father’s personal library. Victor’s supernatural hearing wouldn’t catch me in the room protected by thick walls, and the old leather-bound volumes calmed my nerves.

I cleared my throat before rehashing my speech. “Victor, you’re the leader of Military Intelligence Seven, but as Duchess of Sussex, I have the right to . . .” I shook my head. This sounded patronizing. I took a deep breath to slow my pounding heart, glad that I wasn’t wearing a corset. Another perk of being a duchess.

I squared my shoulders. A wrong word and Victor would dismiss me. “Victor, I kindly request… would you… I would appreciate if you assign me to the ongoing investigation on the Heart Collector, since I believe my skills can be an asset.” There. Simple, polite, and to the point.

I jutted out my chin and smoothed my bodice. I should’ve worn my dark green dress. It made me look taller and older. This blue gown gave me a childish air with its velvet ribbons and budding roses.

Too late.

After another deep inhalation, I marched toward Victor’s office again and knocked on the door.

“Come in.” The thick door muffled his deep voice.

I wiped my sweaty hand on my skirt before turning the handle and stepping into the office that had once belonged to my father. Victor and his younger brother Jamie stood up from their stuffed chairs and bowed.

“Good morning, Victor, Jamie.”

After the dimly lit corridor, the sunlight streaming from the floor-to-ceiling window blinded me, and I squinted, closing the door behind me.

I walked to the desk that occupied almost half of the room, keeping my eyes on Victor’s frowning face. “I need to talk to you.”

Victor stretched out an arm, indicating the empty chairs. His serious expression added wisdom to his five and twenty years. “Of course, Isabel. Please, sit.”

I perched on the very edge of the chair and set my back straight to not crush my bustle. Victor sat at his desk while Jamie settled himself next to the fireplace.

“Is something the matter?” Jamie leaned forward, his blond hair swishing about his cheeks. “You are pale.”

I faced him. “Well, I—” A dark blue bruise marked his chin, his bottom lip was split, and a fresh cut marred his forehead. “What happened to you?”

Jamie clenched and unclenched his fists. “My encounter with one of the Supernaturals we’re trying to recruit didn’t end well.”

I focused on Jamie, unleashed my power, and reached out for his feelings. A rush of energy flooded me, and heat warmed my chest. His anger, annoyance, and humiliation washed over me. Physical pain stabbed him as well. I gently prodded his body with my mental strength. His ribs hurt, and a cut on his back throbbed. His feelings left the sour taste of unripe grapes in my mouth.

I swallowed. “This Supernatural must be particularly strong to hurt you.”

Jamie stroked his bruised skin. A new wave of mortification surged from him. “He is moderately strong.”

Moderately strong? Jamie could bend iron bars with two fingers and lift twenty times his weight. How strong was this Supernatural?

Victor shifted his gaze to me. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

“Exactly about this.” I nodded toward Jamie. “This Supernatural you want to recruit for the investigation on the Heart Collector.”

Victor knitted his blond eyebrows in the same way Jamie would. “You don’t have to concern yourself with that. Jamie will soon make another attempt to meet this Supernatural.”

“But.” I paused to read Victor’s feelings. His determination and mild exasperation reached me. It wasn’t a good start, but maybe my speech would convince him. “I would like you to allow me . . . I mean, to assign me to this mission since I request, kindly, I request kindly, that it would be me, myself, to do it.” Damn. So much for rehashing. I clasped my hands in my lap not to show how much they trembled. “I’d like it to be me.” I swallowed. If I weren’t so eager to get the job, I’d laugh at Victor’s scrunched face.

I searched his feelings again. Even without my supernatural empathetic power, the hard set of his jaw and his narrowed icy blue eyes told me he wasn’t pleased. I cleared my throat. “I want to meet this Supernatural.”

“You want what?” Jamie asked, propping an elbow on the mantelpiece.

I ignored him. “What did you say his name was?”

“I didn’t.” Victor straightened the pile of documents on his desk, arranged quills and inkbottles, and loosened his bow tie.

Meet Barbara Russell

I’m an entomologist and a soil biologist, which is a fancy way to say that I dig in the dirt, looking for bugs. Nature and books have always been my passion. I was a kid when I read The Lord Of The Ring and fell in love with fantasy novels.

When I discovered cosy mystery and crime novel, I fell in love with Hercules Poirot and Sherlock Holmes. Then I grew up and . . . Nah, I’m joking. I didn’t grow up. Don’t grow up, folks! It’s a trap.

PS I hate gardening. There, I said it. Sorry fellow Kiwis.

Freya’s Folly

By Sherry Ewing

On April 6, 2019

In Sherry Ewing, Teatime Tattler

Gentle Reader:

The Teatime Tattler received this aged parchment yesterday. While we puzzle over its delivery to our office, we are pleased to know brazen wenches are not new in 1815.

S. Clemens

Freya peaked around the canvas of a tent to watch the English knight as he made his way through the crowd. She had first seen him leaving his own tent this morn and on impulse she asked a nearby squire for the knight’s name. Sir Charles de Grey, she had been told, and a small smile had lit her face upon hearing it while she began following him through camp.

Heart pounding, she continued to dodge people and other obstacles in her pursuit to stay near Sir Charles. She was unprepared when he suddenly turned as though he felt her presence. She quickly ducked behind another tent in the hopes he had not caught her following him. She could not say why she was so drawn to this handsome stranger but he had certainly held her interest from afar. No harm could come from a closer look, could it?

With her chest heaving at the near thought of being found out, she dared another look only to find him gone! She stepped from her hiding place in order to once more continue her search for him. She was unprepared when her arm was taken in a fierce grip. Forced backwards against the canvas that had obviously not provided any source of concealment, she stared into the eyes of the very person who had momentarily escaped her. He was taller up close than she expected for she barely reached to his chest. With his blond hair and vivid blue eyes, she almost sighed at how handsome he was now that he stood before her. And then he spoke, and her world crashed down around her.

“Why are you following me?” he asked in an amused tone. Before she could answer, he continued, much to her dismay. “If you are looking for a bit of sport, I do not have time to dally at the moment. Perchance later, although I must admit you are prettier than most of the wenches who meander about.” He took hold of her chin as though to examine her closer before he gave her a quick kiss upon her lips.

“H-how d-dare ye kiss me?” Freya sputtered.

He began fumbling at a leather pouch upon his belt. Drawing out a coin, he held out the meager offering for her to take. “For your troubles…”

A gasp escaped her. “Do ye ken who ye are speaking tae?”

A chuckle escaped him. “Given you have been dodging my every move this morn, I assumed you were one of the women camp followers who earn their way at such events. Was I mistaken?”

He thought her a whore! His insult stung even as she knew her brother Douglas would be mortified to learn she had been following the man in the first place. Swinging her arm to smack the smirk off his face, he easily caught her hand before pulling her closer. Her breath left her while she tried to think clearly.

She began to struggle in his arms. “Ye braying arse! I am Lady Freya of Berwyck,” she shouted. He let go of her so quickly she stumbled to right herself and not land in the dirt.

“As in the sister to Laird Douglas of Clan MacLaren?” A look passed across his features showing her that he was not pleased she was associated with her brother.

“Aye. I will tell him of yer insult tae me,” she hissed.

“Tell him anything you like but for your own sake, and mine, stay away from me. I have had all I can handle from a MacLaren for one day.”

Freya continued to stare at him while he stomp away and as she watched him go, she was uncertain if she was happy or sad at his leaving.

Freya and Charles are secondary characters in Belle Sherry Ewing’s latest release: To Love A Scottish Laird: De Wolfe Pack Connected World. This novella has become a prequel to Sherry’s debut novel If My Heart Can See You. It combines the worlds of Katheryn Le Veque’s De Wolfe Pack series and Sherry’s Knights of Berwyck.

Sometimes you really can fall in love at first sight…

Lady Catherine de Wolfe knows she must find a husband before her brother chooses one for her. A tournament to celebrate the wedding of the Duke of Normandy might be her answer. She does not expect to fall for a man after just one touch.

Laird Douglas MacLaren of Berwyck is invited to the tournament by the Duke of Normandy. He goes to ensure Berwyck’s safety once Henry takes the throne. He does not expect to become entranced by a woman who bumps into him.

Yet, nothing is ever quite that simple. Not everyone is happy with the union of this English lady and a Scottish laird. From the shores of France, to Berwyck Castle on the border between their countries, Douglas and Catherine must find their way to protect their newfound love.

Excerpt:

“You can let go of me now,” she said softly, not wanting to appear ungrateful for his help. His arms dropped to his sides, and she swore she felt a loss she had never experienced before.

“Aye, of course,” he said a little too gruffly. “Mayhap we should introduce ourselves since I all but caused ye tae fall.”

“’Twas hardly your fault,” Catherine said with a small smile. “I must apologize for my clumsiness.”

“No harm was done as long as ye were not injured.”

“Nay… I am well, as you can see for yourself.”

“Ye appear very well.” A grin split his lips. He gave a short bow. “I am Douglas of Clan MacLaren and laird of Berwyck Castle. And ye are…”

She curtsied. “Lady Catherine de Wolfe.”

His brow lifted, giving evidence of his surprise. “de Wolfe?”

Catherine raised her chin. “Aye. You have perchance heard of us?” she asked. Although proud of her heritage, ’twas sometimes an inconvenience when it came to men, their ambitions, and her dowry. Dowry? When had Lord Douglas become a possibility for her husband?

He chuckled. “I would have tae be living in a hole in the ground tae have not heard of the de Wolfe family.”

Buy it on Amazon or read it now with Kindle Unlimited.

More about Sherry:

Sherry is proud to be one of the Bluestocking Belles. Sherry picked up her first historical romance when she was a teenager and has been hooked ever since. A bestselling author, she writes historical and time travel romances to awaken the soul one heart at a time. When not writing, she can be found in the San Francisco area at her day job as an Information Technology Specialist.

You can learn more about her on the tab above or visit her on one of these social media outlets:

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