"Aleanna, my Aleanna." The young woman responded to the sorrowful whisper, her head turning on the pillow.
"My baby?" Aleanna's voice was a mere thread of sound quickly lost in the hush of the room.
"She is here." Into her line of vision a small bundle appeared, warmly swaddled in soft blankets.
Caring hands shaped Aleanna's limp arms into a cradle, and a weight suddenly lay against her breast. A warm, wanted weight.
Her child.
With immense effort, Aleanna looked down at the child in her arms.
"My darling," she whispered. "Your hair is red." A pleased smile was upon bloodless lips, then she leaned her weary head back into the pillow.
She was so tired . . . she wished only to close her eyes. She fought the sensation, for she knew there was something she must do.
Weakly, she lifted one hand, caught the hand of the woman who hovered beside the bed.
"Mandine, you must --"
The dark garbed figure bent closer to catch the words Aleanna could barely get out.
"Tell me Aleanna," her caregiver, the woman named Mandine, urged, "tell me of your wishes. Do you wish vengeance?"
"Protect my daughter."
"I shall protect her from that one," Mandine hissed balefully. "I shall take her away this night."
"No." Aleanna clutched Mandine's forearm with surprising strength, her face, if it were possible, growing even more ashen. "You know she must stay here in these surroundings. I wish it were otherwise, but --" She lay back, utterly exhausted. "I ask that you guide her. Shield her as best you can."
The dark garbed figure picked up the infant, held her closely against her breast.
"You know I will do what is best for your child." Mandine bowed her head, dark eyes burning. "I will protect the wee one as if she were my own."
"Yes," murmured Aleanna faintly, her eyes flickering for the last time, "I know you will take care of my Elise."
Mandine placed the infant in a small cradle, swaddled her in the softest of wool.
"My dearest Aleanna, you barely cling to life and so it is time." With a flick of her gnarled fingers Mandine cast tiny particles across Aleanna. In the shadowy room, each particle captured fragments of light from two lit candles beside the bed. Every corner of the room filled with a splintering rainbow of glorious color.
Mandine leaned over the young woman she had raised from a five year old orphan. Gently, she closed Aleanna's eyes. "And so it is, the journey begun."
Book Three
Treasure So Rare Excerpt
by Grace Brannigan
Chapter One
Prologue
Date: A. D. 1217, Shire of Dutton, England
Sir William kicked the door in with an enraged bellow, his brown and craggy face contorted out of all recognition. He and his knights had been practicing sword play when the screams had come from across the courtyard. Immediately, he had known it was his daughter Iliana. He and a score of men had raced toward the family's private quarters. As they approached the solar, the screams abruptly ceased and it was that very absence of sound that he feared the most.
Three mail-clad shoulders pushed in the wide heavy oak door. The stout wood hit the wall behind it. The sound resonated throughout the keep. Had not two sons and a steward held him back, Sir William would have charged forward to kill the drunken bastard standing over his daughter. In that first moment of blind rage, he cared not that that man was of the king's favored circle. All he saw was his Iliana, delicate Iliana, lying crumpled, eyes closed, golden hair splayed along the stone floor where a thread of crimson now puddled.
Sir William knew the man as Weinroof, a handsome scoundrel with a reputation for brawling and drunkenness. It was rumored he was a spoiler of women and children.
Weinroof's long blond mane stood wildly askew and on end, as if someone had tried to rip the hair from his skull. Incongruously, from one immense hand trailed a flimsy, filmy swathe of cloth, the same material that clothed his daughter. As the men at arms entered the room, Weinroof jerked his head back, swollen and bloodshot eyes narrowed upon the intruders. Grunting, the man wrapped the filmy material tightly around his hand in an attempt to stem a flow of blood from his palm.
"This one shows me no favor," he spat, then fell silent, perhaps sobering somewhat upon being faced with the ferocity of the expressions leveled at him. His voice changed, became more of a disgruntled whine. "All others in this damned drafty place she smiles at and tries to please, but not myself. I would have her hand -- I would wed her."
"Damn your filthy soul to hell!" Desren shouted, oldest son of Sir William. He and his twin Aisyn lunged forward to make short work of the bastard.
Sir William cared not what fate befell that one as he rushed forward and knelt beside his daughter. Iliana had not moved since their forcible entrance. For a moment he feared the worst, that the bastard had killed her. She lay broken, a flower crushed beneath a careless heel. Almost weeping, Sir William lifted her slight frame, gently pulled back the long, curling sweep of hair. She lay as still as her mother on the most sorrowful day of his life. And like her mother, Sir William enfolded her close in mail-clad arms and placed a kiss upon her cold, pale brow.
Contemporary Romance Series,
Women of Character
Echoes from the Past, Once and Always, Heartstealer, Wishing on a Rodeo Moon
Once and Always Excerpt
Chapter One
Memory could be gentle. At other times it left scars.
Anna Barlow had read those words this morning and somehow they felt like a reflection of her life. She stared out over her ranch's fields now, trying to shake off the cobwebs of old memories.
Newly warmed earth and northeast temperatures collided, creating ground vapor as the sun fought its way through heavy clouds. She shivered, brushing at the cool morning mist that settled in her hair. Her mare stood unmoving beneath her, her nostrils blowing gently from their run. Anna patted Spirit's neck, wishing she could forget she was barely hanging onto the ranch. . . her home.
Every tree, stick and grain of dirt of the Double B Ranch belonged to her. The barns and dilapidated fences . . . the makeshift corral. She couldn't walk away from her only real home. Her grandfather Martin Barlow had brought her here at the age of fourteen. Now, everyone she'd ever loved was gone. Martin. Tyler.
Restlessly, Anna nudged her gray mare toward a well-worn dirt path that led down to the barns and house.
She'd survived worse. Somehow, she'd get through this too. Anna touched her right cheek and curled her fingers against the scarred flesh, her fingers tracing the faint ridges almost absentmindedly. Her face had once been her biggest asset. Now it brought her only anger and at times self pity. She hated feeling sorry for herself, but God Almighty she was only human.
Giving in to a reckless edge of emotion, Anna urged her mare into a bone-jarring trot down the hillside. When they reached level ground, the spring wind tore against her as they loped across open pasture. She inhaled the clean air into her lungs, reveling in the familiar thunder of hooves beneath her. Gradually, the sting of failure lessened. Self-absorbed and prideful these last two years, she'd allowed the fire that ruined her face to take over her life.
She had to live with her mistakes, but somehow she'd find a way out of this mess.
#
Tyler Stanton jerked his collar up against the morning chill. The Barlow's Double B Ranch looked the same, yet subtle changes had dimmed its splendor in the six years since he'd been gone. The grounds were unkempt, the buildings in disrepair and the horse barns, once full and so proudly outlined by the Catskill mountains around them, were badly in need of work. He walked through the dusty paddock area and entered the empty barn, memories unexpectedly twisting his guts into knots. Long rides and midnight rendezvous' swam through his mind, the images like a reel of film playing in his brain.
He thought of Annie, the intensity of their love and then the ultimate deterioration of everything in his
life, taking her love with it. Her big eyes were there, filled with fierce determination before a barrel competition, softened in love play, their conversations by turn razor sharp and playfully innocent. He and Annie had been buddies, friends, and for a few intense weeks, lovers. Then it had all gone sour. She'd chosen to stay with an ill-tempered old man and had done nothing when Tyler was run out of town. He had never figured that one out; sweet, loving Annie, letting him take a fall. He looked up at the sky, deliberately easing the tension in his shoulders. How had he thought her sweet?
He wondered how Annie would feel if he told her she'd be a rich woman if she'd left with him that night long ago. Instead, the years had been tough on her and by all accounts she was losing everything.
Tyler exited the barn, his boots scuffing up bits of old hay and gravel. Hearing the sound of a fast approaching horse, he walked outside and around the side of the barn toward the open pasture. Hooves beat the ground in a flat out run. A horse and rider appeared, galloping hell-for-leather through the soft mist clinging to the grass. Recognition slammed him. He'd never forget that intensity of control, Annie's fit and trim body, hair the deep color of dark chestnut out behind her. Tyler couldn't take his eyes off Annie. He admired the pure symmetry between horse and rider as they skimmed the ground. He was reminded of the skill that had made her a champion barrel racer.
Tyler's heart hammered. How he loved the beauty of running horses. There was nothing like it, especially on a dead quiet morning. He tried to tell himself it had nothing at all to do with seeing Annie again after six long years.
He'd thought he was prepared for this meeting with her. Instead, he resented that he felt sucker-punched. Christ, it seemed like only yesterday he'd chased her across this very field on horseback. When he'd caught her and pulled her from her horse, it was as if they couldn't get enough of each other. They'd made love under the hot sun, the grass cushioning their bodies. Six years ago time had been meaningless to them.
As he watched, Annie wheeled the wiry gray horse around a lone barrel in the pasture, then urged the animal into a ground-eating lope in his direction. Tyler stood still as a gust of wind lifted his hat from his head, tossing it like a challenge onto the grass.
Annie drew closer. Three yards away her horse's hindquarters dipped and rear hooves slid, digging up clods of grass and dirt. The gray's front legs were almost straight as she came to a stop, narrowly missing Tyler's hat. Tyler ran an expert glance over the animal's flexing muscles. Annie maintained only light contact with the horse's mouth. He almost smiled.
"Tyler!"
Dust swirled around them. Bending, Tyler retrieved his hat and slapped it against his leg, then stared at the new crease along the hat brim. "Still the same old Annie. Bouncing your horse around to get attention."
"Same old Tyler, too," she came back. "Smart remarks and all." She sat stiffly, staring away from him. Her rigid shoulders told him he wasn't the only one being poked by memory shards. "You're the last person I expected to see."
She didn't look at him, but kept her upper body half-turned in the saddle. Dark shoulder length hair swung past her cheek, hiding part of her face. The back of his legs stiffened and Tyler stifled an urge to move closer. She was thin, almost too thin.
"Nice horse. Pretty magnificent riding across the flat like that."
"Didn't know I had an audience."
Annie's horse tossed its head, the jangle of the bit the lone sound as she brushed long elegant fingers over the animal's withers. Tyler found he could breathe again, hadn't even realized he'd been holding his breath.
"Can't you look at me, Annie?" It grated on him that it bothered him so much. He smiled grimly. He could wait, he had plenty of time.
The sun suddenly shot out from behind a cloud. Annie turned to shield her eyes from the glare. The light, bright and unforgiving, shockingly outlined the scars marring the entire right side of her face. Her skin, once flawless, was now mottled and discolored, the flesh a mix of uneven red and white patches that ran like licking flames right to the corner of her mouth.
"Annie!" Tyler knew shock laced his voice. Pain split him in half, shooting to his toes and jetting back up to his brain. His legs trembled where they'd been stiff a moment before.
She jerked her head back and if possible, her face turned even whiter except for the scars, and her eyes. . . her eyes were a deep, wounded green.
"I prefer Anna," she said tersely, now looking at him. "I didn't expect to see anyone or I'd have put on my concealing makeup and spared you seeing this. People don't usually come around unless calling first."
Tyler pressed a fist against his hip. It wasn't the first time he'd seen such terrible scarring. But it was the first time he'd seen it marring Annie's face. She'd always taken pride in her looks, her skin and makeup. She'd hated being teased about her facials and hair appointments.
"Now that we have that out of the way --" hostility cracked in Annie's voice.
"How did it happen?" His voice sounded grating, even to himself. Inside, he was gasping for air.
She seemed to move back, even by the slightest fraction.
"Why are you here?" she asked.
Tyler shoved back the sympathy for what she must have suffered. It was obvious she didn't want it. He'd figure that part out when he was alone, the ache in his gut. "I guess you never expected to see me again."
She turned just enough to conceal the scarring, but he saw the tremble of her fingers on the reins.
"I'm sorry that Martin died," he said gruffly. "No matter what had happened between us, I know how much you cared about him." He stepped back and cleared his throat. "I saw your ad in the horse quarterly." He was used to dealing with people, but now he felt momentarily at a loss, too aware of her watchful eye. He felt a curious empathy, but he didn't want to feel even that slight connection to her.
She pulled at the frayed material of her jeans while a light breeze played at the edge of her faded shirt. "If you saw the ad then you know the ranch is up for lease."
"There's no sense in beating around the bush. I want to buy it."
Her glare was hostile. "It's not for sale."
"I've been checking around. You might not have a choice."
Her fingers twisted into the frayed holes at her knee. "You've been talking to people?"
"My lawyer made a few discreet inquiries. Sell it to me now and I'll make it a painless transaction."
"Go to hell."
"The old man tried to hand deliver me and my father there, or did you forget?"
"I remember everything." Her eyes, now greenish hazel, held a haunting sadness.
He looked away, hating that he felt off balance. He needed to retain the anger that had driven him back here where his life had so drastically changed. Seeing her pain shouldn't matter after all this time, not after what her family had done to his.
"Good," he said. "Then we're all on the same page as far as the past goes. I'll make you a fair offer on the property. You owe me first shot at it."
Her eyes widened in outrage. "I don't owe you or anyone else a thing! Everything I have I paid for a long time ago."
"Is that how you sleep at night?" He asked grimly. "We have a different recall of the past."
"All the charges against you and Grant were dropped."
"My father never got over it. Lack of evidence doesn't clear a man's name. Sometimes a man's good name is all he has. Martin was an unscrupulous bastard -- you know it had to be him who falsified those breeding records. He turned on my father when he got caught. Listen to your conscience, Annie . . . I know you have one."
"You don't know anything about me."
"I can't believe you're changed that much."
Excerpt Echoes from the Past
by Grace Brannigan
Chapter One
Christie Jenkins once again counted the bills in her pocket. Seventeen dollars. The gnawing hunger in her stomach attested to the fact that she hadn’t had a decent meal in two d
ays.
Shading her eyes against the bright sun, she let her duffel bag slide to the cracked pavement and stared at the royal blue sign beside the road, at the beginning of a long, curved driveway.
Winding Creek Farms, Emerson, Kentucky
The same address as her sister Judith’s letter. Christie stuffed the crumpled bills back in her pocket and looked up the curved driveway lined with dusky pink Dogwood trees. Various barns and sheds sat at the top of the drive where gently rolling hills and ribbons of white fence seemed to go on forever. Horses grazed lazily in fenced paddocks and a short distance from the barns stood a house, the midnight blue roof and cupolas lending it a fairytale look. Pure heaven. The sharp nag of pain in Christie’s gut cut such thoughts short. Given the events of this year, she was certain there was no heaven on earth.
As she reached for her bag Christie suddenly noticed a movement in the tall grass beside the driveway. A child of about eight or nine, creeping on her hands and knees, pushed her way through the grass. Long blond ponytails fell across her pink shirt. When the child’s feet cleared the grass, Christie smiled to see that red cowgirl boots peeked beneath denim overalls.
"Here, Albert." The child’s voice was coaxing. "Come on, now."
That’s when Christie noticed the small gray kitten near the driveway’s edge. A sudden swipe of the little girl’s hand as she tried to grab the kitten sent the animal darting out onto the dirt driveway. With the unpredictability of cats, it just as quickly stopped in the middle of the driveway and hunched its back upward. Cautious again, the child slowly rose to her feet to follow the kitten.
Christie heard a new sound and noticed a large hay truck pull away from one of the barns and start down the driveway. The child didn’t seem aware of the vehicle as she continued to coax the kitten toward her.
"Hey!" Christie waved her arm at the child.
The little girl stopped abruptly and looked toward Christie, her eyes wide with alarm.
"Get out of there!" Christie called. The hay-laden truck sounded like it was slowing down, but it didn’t stop moving toward them. The little girl finally looked at the truck, staying almost frozen in the driveway. Afraid, Christie raced toward the little girl.
Deception Page 9