#Aidan'sLove #Historical/HighlandRomance

 

Title: Aidan’s Love

            Twelve Dancing Princesses Book Twelve

Author: Christine Young

Genre: Historical Romance/Regency

Book Heat Level: 4

 

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Blade MacPherson has waited a lifetime to claim Aidan McLellan, a woman who haunts his waking thoughts day and night.

 

 

BLURB: Aidan's Love

 

Whispers of Love

 

Aidan McLellan has loved Blade MacPherson since she first set eyes on him as a young girl. Spontaneous, wild and eager to grow up, Aidan haunts his waking thoughts day and night, insinuating herself into his life. With her fiery red hair and sparkling sapphire eyes, she seizes Blade's heart even while he tries to resist the innocent child until she becomes a woman.

 

Whispers of Courage

 

Blade has waited what seems a lifetime to claim the woman who captures his heart as a little girl. Claiming his inheritance before his younger brother takes what is rightfully his, Blade must convince Aidan of his sincerity after years of avoidance and wed her before his father dies so he can return home, securing his rightful place. Everything is put to the test when his life as well as Aidan's is threatened by the man who once called him brother.

 

 

EXCERPT: Aidan's Love

 

At times she didn’t want to reject any advances he might make. If she gave in to his ploys, she would find herself in his arms and his bed before she could blink. After all, she’d been in love with him since she was thirteen, nine long years ago.

Inhaling a long deep breath and setting her cup on the table beside her, she asked and with a patience that was rarely a part of her character, “Where were you? All this time...”

“Ach lass, I was enjoying the silence.” He rose and poured himself more whiskey. Returning, he sat next to her. Placing a hand on hers, he watched her carefully, his muscles tense.

“You don’t want me to talk? Fine. I won’t then. Be that way if you enjoy the sound of silence rather than my voice.” She wanted to bait him, needed to erase the all-knowing smirk off his face. This isn’t at all what she expected when and if he returned.

“Why are you so angry with me? I don’t believe I’ve done anything to deserve your wrath.” He brought her hand to his lips, placing a kiss on the palm of her hand, allowing his tongue to glide across her skin.

“Where were you?” she repeated with a little more force this time, tugging her hand to no avail while he drew circles on the underside of her wrist with his thumb. He wasn’t going to seduce her so easily, she determined. She could and would resist him.

He lifted his shoulders, before nonchalantly speaking, “I left you a note. You should have read it. Then you would comprehend where I went and why along with the gravity of the situation. Truth be told, leaving you was the very last thing I wanted.”

“It’s been three months and I had no idea if you were even alive.” She succeeded in pulling her hand from him then she crossed her arms over her chest, trying to calm her escalating nerves. Lord, but he could bring her to anger just as quickly as he could create a storm of desire she couldn’t control.

He picked up her hand again, brought it to his lips. Gazing into her eyes before kissing the tips of each finger, he continued to explore the palm of her hand then her wrist. When he stopped, “I told you in the note I left on that table.” He motioned to the one by the door.

Thinking, breathing, even sitting straight was nearly impossible when he brought his lips away. “A-a note?” she whispered, enraged at the masculine smile on his face and the way she melted with a tiny kiss on her hand. The man knew what he did to her. For a second time, she pulled her hand away.

Instead of conceding defeat and withdrawing, he picked up her other hand and sucked each finger into his mouth, his teeth nibbling on each tip. This time he continued his path of discovery and exploration up her arm, kissing, biting. His tongue was warm and created its own magic against her flesh.

When he paused, “Yes, a note. Over there. It explained everything. Where and why. The gravity.”

“I never saw a note.” She stood, intending to show him there was nothing there. Before she reached the table, she faced him, and in a huff clearly confused by his seduction, “Regardless, you could have answered my question. You didn’t have to—have to...”

“Make you breathless with passion and desire? We could go upstairs. No one is home.”

“You did no such thing and no we can’t. Lilly will be in the kitchen fixing dinner any time now.”

“Make you breathless or write a note? I can assure you; I wrote one.” Still his voice was too calm, too sure of himself, his smile self-assured.

It didn’t appear that he believed she didn’t see a note. Even if she didn’t find one, it didn’t mean he lied. Bending over and on all fours, she searched the floor below the table then tried to reach behind the nearby chair, stretching, moving her hand along the floor. She sneezed from the dust.

“I can’t find anything.”

His hand settled on top her back. “Let me help.”

His mouth was close to her lips when she turned her head to reply. The warmth from his hand sent a whirling dervish of sensations spiraling to places he awakened a few months ago. A tiny whimper she had no control over made his grin broader.

She moistened her lips. “I don’t want your help.” Any more assistance from him and she’d drag him against her and make him give her those wonderful sensation he called a woman’s pleasure. Ninny, he would never let you take control. Yet perhaps he would.

“But you can’t reach as far as I can.” His lips brushed softly against hers then in a blink they vanished.

“You’re doing that on purpose.” She closed her eyes, reveling in the touch of his hand as he slid it up her back then down to caress her bottom.

“Looking for the note I left you? I need redemption. Of course, I’m doing it on purpose.”

“Then stop touching me and look for the bloody note so you can be vindicated. Or better yet just tell me where and why and I’ll take you for your word.” If he didn’t stop soon, she’d end up a mindless, spineless puddle on the floor.

“I like touching you, hearing those tiny mews of pleasure and the soft flush that stains your cheeks when I do. Why should I settle for anything less?”

 

 

 

Website URL: http://christineyoungromancewriter.com/

 

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#TwelveDaysToLove #Historical/paranormalRomance

 

Title: Twelve Days to Love

Author: Christine Young

Genre: Historical Romance

Book Heat Level: 3

 

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Archer Steele shows up at Calanthe Durand’s failing plantation with an alligator over his shoulder, intent on doing everything and anything to convince the beautiful Miss Durand he is worthy of her love.

 

BLURB: Twelve Days to Love

 

When Archer Steele shows up at Calanthe Durand’s failing plantation with an alligator over his shoulder, Cali thinks she’s never seen a more handsome man. During the war she had to defend herself and her servants from both union and confederate soldiers. Independent and self-sufficient, she vows to never marry. 

But Archer Steele has different ideas. The first time Archer sees Cali in town, he feels an instant attraction. He decides he will do everything and anything to convince the beautiful Miss Durand he is worthy of her love. During the weeks leading up to Christmas, he gives her twelve gifts in hopes she will fall in love with him. Yet they are faced with challenges they must overcome before Cali can commit to a marriage.

 

 

EXCERPT: Twelve Days to Love

 

“When that window shattered, I thought the world was comin’ to an end. The glass was everywhere, rain pelting into the room. I was terrified, and he was there, helping, knowing just what to do.”

“He took charge. Just like he probably commanded his men during the war.” Cali understood that truth. She’d seen her share of troops stay at her home and listened to the officers giving orders. Some had been upstanding gentleman while others were ruthless, taking what they wanted and leaving nothing behind.

“Well, without him, Miss Cali, we would have lost furniture, paintings...”

“Many valuables.”

A vase that had been given to her mother and father as a wedding gift crashed to the floor, but she’d been able to save other objects when Archer raced outside to board up the windows for a second time. Sam had followed, and together they finished the job.

“More tea?” Daisy rose from the table to retrieve the teapot.

“Yes, that would be nice. We should get started on that fabric we bought in the French Quarter before the storm. Sam needs shirts, and we both need a couple new serviceable day dresses.” To Cali, sewing was cathartic. She could sew all day if she had enough fabric. Alas, she could only afford material for everyday needs.

“I’ll get right to it. Do you have any fashion plates you want to look at, or do you just want to use old ones?”

“Old ones will do. Don’t have the time or the desire to sort through the latest fashions from Paris.” Cali hadn’t looked at fashion plates since before the war when a dressmaker had created all her clothes. That was such a long time ago. She knew Daisy would be laughing inside. Daisy asked the same question every time they made dresses, and her answer never varied. They didn’t have any updated fashion plates to look through.

“Let’s finish this cup of tea then get started. I’ll clean up the kitchen, and you can sort through the material.”

“I’ll meet you in the sewing room.” Cali added a lump of sugar to her tea and a bit of milk before sipping thoughtfully.

Daisy was silent, but Cali watched her deep brown and intelligent eyes as they peered over the teacup. What matchmaking scheme was Daisy conspiring now? Or was she paranoid? Fancying things she shouldn’t be imagining.

“Penny for your thoughts? Daisy asked.

“I was thinking the same, wondering what you were dreaming up. I don’t want you scheming a way to get Mr. Archer here. If he comes of his own accord, then fine. I’ll figure things out, but don’t entice him here. And I’m not going to seek him out.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.” Cali sipped the last bit of tea and grabbing another biscuit, she started for the sewing room.

Cali knew Daisy would mull that over in her mind, and she also knew she was still trying to figure a way for Archer to come to her. Ignoring the disarray in the sewing room, she rummaged through the bolts of fabric, accepting the fact most of what they bought was appropriate for Sam’s work clothes and not dresses.

“My goodness this place is a mess.” One of the windows that shattered during the storm was located in this room. Under normal circumstances this place was bright, sunshine filtering inside. Today it was dark and so dreary it sent a shiver down her spine. She rubbed her arms, warding off the chill then spun on a heel, leaving the room.

A few minutes later she was back, putting mosquito netting over the now open window. A cool breeze flowed through the opening.

“Why, Miss Cali, that was brilliant.” Daisy stood in the doorway seeming to admire Cali’s handiwork.

“Thank you.” Cali set about straightening the room and cleaning up debris from the tempest. A few branches had found their way inside as well as leaves and mud.

“Good thing the new bolts of fabric were put in a safe place before the hurricane hit.” Daisy removed the netting and tossed a branch and some leaves out the window.

“Doubt if we’re going to get much sewing done today. This place is a jumble. I’ll go downstairs and bring up a couple of mops and a pail of soapy water.”

In the kitchen, Cali put a few pots and pans on the stove to heat the water to room temperature before locating two buckets, and other paraphernalia needed to clean the sewing room. It had been a couple of weeks since the hurricane, and they’d had so many chores around the house, this was the first time she’d thought of this particular area of the house. Of course, when you need to sew new clothes, that’s when you remember how the storm tore that chamber apart.

“Miss Cali...” Sam stood in the doorway.

“Oh my! Her hand flew to her chest. You scared me. Guess I was lost in thought.”

“Sorry, but there is someone here to see you.” Sam cleared his throat, stepping aside.

“Mr. Steele? Whatever...? I didn’t expect you.” Her hand on her throat, she tried to swallow while she was thinking he was even more handsome today than he’d been the last time she saw him. His dress was casual. He wore buckskins for pants, along with a white shirt and a leather jacket with a small amount of fringe. He’d pulled his dark hair back and tied it with a leather strap.

 

 

 

KEYWORDS

 

Historical, Romance, Regency, England

 

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#TellTaleTuesday #FallingForFlynt

 

Title: Falling for Flynt

         Bad Boys Book Three

Author: Christine Young

Genre: Historical romance

Book Heat Level:

 

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Hope Wallace, raised in a harem, now penniless, alone and without her memory, hopes bad boy Flynt MacTavish can help her rediscover all she has lost.

 

BLURB: Falling For Flint

 

He's a bad, bad boy...

 

Fascinated by Hope's loss of memory yet haunted by her sultry beauty, Flynt is irresistibly drawn to the stoic miss—and into her troubles with the sultan who wants her for himself. When he discovers she is the sister of his best friend, his pride keeps him from pursuing her and making her his.

 

...but she's falling for him.

 

Raised in a harem but now penniless, alone and without her memory, Hope must discover a way to remember all that she has lost. She finds a way to continue with her life as a servant in Flynt's home. The first sight of Flynt steals Hope's breath as well as her heart. Can she overcome her fears and give herself to the man she fell in love with.

 

 

EXCERPT: Falling For Flynt

 

“Perhaps you did,” he agreed, wondering just how he was going to keep himself from kissing her, tossing her on her bed, making love to her, in the process ruining her for Angus Kinross. With Hope in his arms, Flynt carried her to her bedroom.

            Sitting on Hope’s bed and holding her so close, he felt one with the world. This feeling inside him was right, so what was he going to do about it?

            She sighed softly, opening her eyes now. One soft fingertip stroked his jawline.             “Kiss me, Flynt.”

            “Kiss you?” He chuckled, “You’re smashed.”

            “No really, I want you to kiss me. Need to have something to compare.” Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips, her gaze resting on his mouth.

            She must not realize how provocative that simple gesture was. When he stepped into his parlor a few hours ago, he had no idea the evening would end this way. He wasn’t going to turn down an invitation such as this one, even though she was half asleep and had clearly drunk too much.

            “If you insist, I never turn down a lady,” he whispered so close to her lips he was sure she would feel his breath.

            “I do,” she closed her eyes, waiting. “Insist.”

            “Open your eyes, sweet lassie.” His lips found hers, touched, explored before his tongue delved inside, finding the soft inside of her upper lip then the edge of her teeth. She was sweet and hot. Her softness intrigued him as well as her willingness to allow him inside. Her tiny sounds of pleasure sent him over the edge. All he could think of was discovering more of her, all of her. That discovery would have to wait for another time.        He liked his women willing but also of clear mind when he pleased them with his sexual expertise. He wondered if Angus could claim that thought.

            It seemed she relaxed in his arms. She was asleep, soundly asleep. She would never remember the kiss and would have naught for comparisons sake. He laughed at himself as well as his thoughts of making love to her. Even with her strange and erotic upbringing, she was by far too innocent for the likes of him.

            What to do now?

            She wouldn’t sleep well, not if she went to bed wearing her clothes and her corset. He could undress her, perhaps without looking at her. No, don’t get too far ahead of yourself, old chap. No way in hell could he do that when presented with such a golden opportunity.

            With Hope totally uncooperative, Flynt managed to remove her dress and corset, leaving her with only her chemise to cover her. He looked at her then, her soft feminine curves. Groaning, he pushed more carnal thoughts from his head.

            He couldn’t help himself. He continued looking, dreaming about her as well. She was slim, her breasts perfect, seeming to invite him to taste. Nope. Walk away before you do something you’ll forever regret. Pulling the covers over her, she woke.

            “Flynt?” The question in her voice stopped him as she sat up, her covering slipping to her waist.

            “Yes.” He sat beside her, wishing he had permission to touch and explore, to curl up beside her.

            “Stay with me tonight.” Her hands rested against his chest, imploring him to heed her request.

            “You wouldn’t like it when you woke up,” he argued to no avail. “There would be regrets and recriminations on your part.

            “I don’t like to be alone. You’re here with me now.” She closed her eyes for a second. “Please don’t go away. I’ve been so lonely. Sometimes I want to cry.”

            Cry? So lonely? “You won’t like it in the morning,” he told her again, knowing he was too close to accepting her proposition.

            “I don’t care.” Her voice was soft, her breathing shallow. 

            He could see the pulse point at her neck, which was beating rapidly.

Blessed hell, but she wanted him. It wouldn’t hurt he told himself. Her invitation was not the one he would have preferred right now. Nonetheless, how could he refuse? “Very well.”

            He strode to the other side of the bed, ridding himself of his shirt and sitting on the bed to remove his boots. Prudence told him he should leave his buckskins on despite his preference to sleep naked.

            She watched him, staring at him while he settled in next to her. Pulling a quilt from the end of the bed over him, he wrapped her in his arms. “Go to sleep now. I’m here and I won’t leave until morning.”

            This was heaven and he was a saint for his gentlemanly behavior. In the morning he could give himself a pat on the back. In the morning, she would be shocked to find him in her bed. He could effectively get rid of Angus by regaling him about her and their escapades.

            He was a cad, yet...

            The raging thought held too many beautiful possibilities.

 

 

 

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#MysteryMonday #FaerieChronicles

 

Title: Faerie Chronicles Boxed Set

C. L. Kraemer

 

Genre: Paranormal Romance

Excerpt Heat Level: 1

Book Heat Level: 2

Buy at: Amazon

 

BLURBS: Faerie Chronicles

 

Meadows of Gold

 

Eugene, Oregon in the 20th century, amid a property feud between the local faeries and night elves. The conniving faeries from Olde Ireland try to stir up more mischief. However, a warrior gnome convinces the magic folk to control their own destiny.

 

 

The Lending Library

 

Faeries try to fit into the human world when the forest where they make their home is destroyed by a mysterious enemy.

 

 

 

Defying the Odds

 

The night elves on the hill aren't happy without their magic. They concoct a plan to punish those who were involved in the act that rendered them almost human. Meanwhile, Uther, the rogue night elf, has returned to woo the Librarian to be his eternal mate.

 

 

 

EXCERPTS: FAERIE CHRONICLES

 

A gentle breeze sighed, undulating the meadow grass lazily and whispering past the forlorn figure slumped on the tree trunk, hands clasped tightly in his lap. Thomas, a forest leprechaun, released a long melancholy breath between his cracked, dry lips. A single plump tear meandered down his stubbled cheek.

The sun sent bright shafts of light through the pine boughs and around the wooden pedestal upon which the morose figure resided. Ignoring the dancing beams, the leprechaun pulled a shuddered breath into his lungs and stared at a spot in front of the stump where a crumpled daisy chain necklace lay withering in the warmth of the afternoon. Another plump tear snaked down his unshaven face.

In the distance, a lone figure scuffed up the lane, which crossed in front of the tree stump. Thomas paid no heed to the approaching form, pulling a thin silver flask from inside his rumpled vest. He blindly opened the lid, placed the opened top to his lips and pulled a deep draught from the container. Refitting the cap to the top, he slipped the silver spirit holder back into his vest. His next shuddered breath was interrupted with a hiccup.

The figure on the road drew closer. Thomas raised his head and squinted his eyes. Was she coming back? He hiccupped and straightened up. Maybe she had been teasing him when she ran away and now she realized how much he cared for her. His eyes brightened and a smile began to touch his lips.

The figure came around the bend and toward him. The last he'd seen her, she was wearing a diaphanous, thin dress. Had she changed? The form nearing him was clad in leather breeches, a braided leather tunic, and knee-high, soft leather boots. A sword blade strapped to the figure's back flashed in the sunlight. Was Cary so angry she meant to cut him in little pieces? His heart began to pound in his chest and inside his mouth his tongue stuck to the roof.

The figure stopped two lengths from him and raised a hand to shade its eyes from the brightness of the day.

Thomas realized he was shaking. This was it…his life was over. He hung his head.

"Thomas?"

The voice was familiar but it didn't sound like Cary. If it wasn't her…

 

 

The Lending Library

 

Faeries try to fit into the human world when the forest where they make their home is destroyed by a mysterious enemy.

 

 

EXCERPTS

Chapter One

 

Ailidh wobbled precariously on her high heels. 

 

Kayne smirked. "Having problems, dear?"

 

"Shut up!" she snapped. "I need to practice this until I get it right. We don’t really have many options left open to us, Kayne. You had better practice, too."

 

He stopped and steadied himself on the railing of the porch. He wriggled his feet out of the closed leather shoes that encased them.

 

"I don’t know why you insist we wear these ridiculous articles of clothing. This long-sleeved shirt cuts off the circulation to my hands not to mention the lack of space for my wings and these long pants chap my legs.

 

"Worst of all, are these horrendous leather shoes. They pinch and make my feet swell. Why do we have to go through all of this? I don’t understand." Kayne grumbled.

 

Ailidh sighed and slowly, patientlyexplained to him, once again, why they were practicing.

 

"Remember last Wednesday when Keegan and Connal lost their dwelling? The sound of their tree crashing to the ground was deafening. The Others are moving out more and more. We will lose our home if we don’t act first. Now, put your shoes back on and walk for just five more minutes."

 

Kayne wrestled his shirt off and threw it to the porch’s deck. He pulled the long pants off his body and left them in a heap next to the shirt. Bending forward, he touched his toes gingerly as he gradually unfurled his lacey wings. Slowly, he pulled himself to an upright position. Shoulders back, wings completely expanded, he lifted his 18-inch form to its full height and looked at Ailidh defiantly.

 

"I don’t need to fit into the Others’ world. They need to adjust themselves to my world and leave us alone."

 

Ailidh, teetering, grabbed the lower railing of the porch and shook her head.

 

"Kayne, most of the Others don’t even know we exist. How can they adjust to something they don’t even believe?"

 

"They adjust to animals, don’t they?"

 

"The animals chose to be seen. We did not. Remember? Our great, great grandfathers took a vote and decided we would endanger ourselves more if we continued to be visible to the Others. At that time, they didn’t have all the machinery they have now. They moved into our lands at a slower pace. Now, put on the clothes and try to adjust."

 

"No." Kayne kicked at the clothing on the porch. "I’m going to get a magazine and a cup of coffee. You can stand here and practice day and night for all I care."

 

He turned on his heels and lifted himself off the ground with his delicate appendages. He lazily winged his way into the open window of the building marked Lending Library.

 

Hovering until he landed on the balls of his feet, he folded the wings tight to his torso and walked to the corner of the building signed Coffee Shop. He sat in a small chair snugged close to the matching table. Sliding the Newsweek someone had tossed on the table toward him, he flipped through the pages. Minimized for easier handling, the magazine was still large enough to require both of his hands to turn the pages. A diminutive nymph in a waitress uniform with a "Chrissy" nametag took his order for a latte. Ten minutes later, she returned with the steaming liquid in a cup. 

 

"Thanks, Chrissy." Kayne picked up the cup carefully and took a sip.

 

"No problem, Kayne," she had a surprisingly deep voice for a nymph. "Where’s Ailidh?"

 

Kayne jerked a thumb over his shoulder toward the front porch. 

 

"Practicing," he grunted.

 

"Oh," Chrissy mopped the table next to Kayne’s with a wet rag then flew daintily to the kitchen with the dirty cups and saucers she’d picked up. One of the resident dryads of the valley, Chrissy was living in the tree behind the Lending Library. Her home across the meadow had been one of the first destroyed.

 

Ailidh is right.Kayne frowned at the silent admission. The Others were invading his world with frightening, swift, uncaring swaths into the forestlands. Soon there wouldn’t be an Ancient tree left. While, at a glance, their movements seemed random, even careless, Kayne had noted a pattern, albeit haphazard, to their actions. Months earlier he’d watched from a safe distance as the huge screeching yellow machines ripped up his ancient wood friends and squashed their bodies beneath armored tracks. He could never be sure whether the squealing had been the old trees or the vicious yellow machines. After the first occasion of watching as they destroyed a sea of Ancients, Kayne had left on shaky wings and flown home. Ailidh was furious at him, thinking he’d been with his friends drinking honeysuckle wine. He couldn’t stop throwing up long enough to tell her what he’d seen.

 

 

Defying the Odds

 

The night elves on the hill aren't happy without their magic. They concoct a plan to punish those who were involved in the act that rendered them almost human. Meanwhile, Uther, the rogue night elf, has returned to woo the Librarian to be his eternal mate.

 

EXCERPT

 

In a meadow east of Eugene, Oregon

 

Bram ambled up the roughly hewn stairs to the willow lounge chair located at the front of his home. He pulled the scrimshawed pipe from his pocket and filled the bowl with his favorite blend of black cherry tobacco. The paced routine of loading the ivory bowl with fragrant leaves and tamping them firmly into place was one of his favorite after dinner rituals. Withdrawing a matchstick from the inner pocket of his vest, he struck the sulfured end against a river rock he'd placed on the root of the towering oak that served as his home.

 

The fading evening sky showered the mountains in hues of gold and red. Pushing away the light, a blanket of dark blue velvet sprinkled with luminous star points soon prevailed. Bram puffed smoke rings at the darkening heavens.

 

"Evenin'." A scruffy black and tan terrier mix meandered up and, after circling three times, lay next to the chubby gnome.

 

"Evening, Silas. How's the family?"

 

"Well, thank you. Daisy announced we're expecting--again."

 

Bram chuckled into his beard. "Congratulations."

 

"Humph. I'll be glad when we're both too old to care. I came over to ask if there are any jobs in sight. I'll need to be working as much as I can now."

 

It seemed he got one batch of kids out of the house and another was on the way.

 

Silence stretched between the business partners. Bram pulled deep draughts on his pipe, blowing the smoke away from his friend. His eyes were drawn to the large block of light spilling from the picture window of the behemoth on the hill. The Saun clan, night elves whose callous actions nearly destroyed the fae population of the meadow and surrounding forests, owned the out of place monstrosity.

 

Bram squinted his eyes to focus his vision on the methodical movement that broke the beam of light. He could just make out a figure pacing rhythmically in front of the casement. Unable to ascertain which of the night elves was engaged in the determined striding, Bram was sure of only one thing…if the night elves were restless and unhappy, the rest of the valley was in trouble.

 

 

 

~ * ~

 

 

 

Gitty paced in front of the picture window, ignoring the expansive view of the green valley below. The thick carpet covering the hand selected hardwood floors muffled the angry stompings of her boots. At the end of each turn, she jabbed the air with her finger.

 

"Think you can take away my magic, do you?" She spun on the ball of her foot and stamped to the other side of the room. "We'll see about that!" Jab, jab.

 

Morgan, the younger of the two siblings, stretched his limbs languidly across the fine leather couch, watching the angry display being played out in the living room, a smirk residing on his lips.

 

"What has your knickers in a twist?" His leg, hanging over the arm of the couch, swung slowly back and forth.

 

Gitty broke her tirade for a moment. "I'm surprised yours aren't. How can you tolerate not having magic to use?"

 

"Because, dear sister, I don't needmagic to get my way. I have my," he waved a hand up and down his body, "obviousattributes."

 

Gitty grimaced. "Please. Don't make me sick."

 

Pulling to an upright position, Morgan stretched his long legs in front of him, tucking his hands behind his head.

 

"You're just jealous."

 

"Hardly."

 

"Then what's your problem?"

 

"I don't fancy living my life in pubs among the scum of the valley sponging off the pity of strangers. My plans include owning all I see."

 

Morgan rose from the couch and faced his sister.

 

"Good luck with that. Even the Others are wise to your quest for power. I'm going out. See you later." He moseyed out of the living room and down the hall.

 

Gitty gritted her teeth. Morgan might be her brother, but he was useless when it came to thinking beyond his next good time.

 

She glared at the source of the fingers of light stretching over the meadow. The owner of the Lending Library was an Other the local fae had embraced with open arms. Even Uther, the one-time leader of the night elves and her uncle, had taken a personal interest in the older female.

 

"Must be losing his sanity."

 

She spotted a pinpoint of red light glowing in the far distance. As hard as she tried, she couldn't sense the origin of the light.

 

"I hate not having my magic!" She smacked the wall with her hand, immediately regretting the action. Bolts of pain shot up her arm.

 

"Damn it!"

 

Turning on her heel, she tramped out of the room.