by Lola Gabriel
Nora’s face fell into a smile, but it looked like Ansel had more to say, so she let him gather his thoughts.
“I… I have been stubborn and blind,” he started. “I should have told my father centuries ago to get stuffed, but I didn’t because I was afraid. It took me this long to realize that the only thing I should have ever feared was losing you. You are the only thing that has ever been right in my life.”
Nora narrowed her eyes at him. “Have you been drinking?”
“No,” Ansel declared. “I am in love with you. If we have learned anything over these last few days, it’s that we can overcome anything together, no matter what kind of mess we find ourselves in.”
Nora laughed lightly. “I thought you had learned that a long time ago.”
Ansel smiled at her. Then he reached into his breast pocket, and Nora’s eyes widened when he opened it, revealing a ring inside of it.
“In some ways,” Ansel said, “I already feel as if we are married, but I think it is high time we make it official. Nora Chambers, will you marry me, finally?”
Nora gaped at him in amazement before turning her glance to the ring.
“Are you sure about this?” she asked. “If we do this, your father will never allow you back into the Kingdom.”
“I disowned that life a long time ago,” Ansel told her. “As you said, I do well enough for myself, and for both of us. I could build you that art studio you always wanted in the house in London, or we could move to the countryside. I just want to go anywhere you are.”
Nora thought of her isolated art studio at the chalet and shuddered.
“I am perfectly content being in the city,” she assured him. “Maybe you can hire me as your boxing manager.” She winked to show him she was only joking, but Ansel did not smile.
“I would give it all up to be with you,” he said, his eyes intense upon hers. “And I will for eternity, Nora. I swear it.”
Nora sat up and stroked his dark hair, pulling him in for a tender kiss.
“I believe you,” she said. “And I accept your proposal. I should warn you that while I do not come with a dowry, I do possess a lot of baggage.”
Ansel chuckled, and Nora joined in. He reached for the ring and slid it on her ring finger, smiling at her with affection.
“We are officially betrothed,” Nora murmured, smiling back at him. “Although, I daresay we will have a very small guest list.”
Ansel fell onto her with a laugh, nuzzling his nose into her neck. “I don’t care if it’s the two of us and a justice of the peace. We are the only ones who matter.”
“I think this calls for a celebration,” Nora commented, glancing at the tray he had brought in. “No champagne?”
“I ordered room service, but I held off on the champagne. I wanted to make sure the answer was positive before I popped the cork.”
Nora stared at him for a long moment.
“Did you really believe that I wouldn’t accept?” she asked in disbelief. “I have longed to be with you forever!”
“I thought you may have finally come to your senses,” Ansel replied, and Nora laughed, placing another kiss on his forehead.
“At least we live in an era now where divorce is commonplace,” she joked, causing Ansel to laugh again. “Hey, by the way, whatever happened to Tony?”
Ansel waved his hand dismissively. “Tomorrow, we deal with the aftermath of today, but tonight, we celebrate.”
“Why do I feel like that is going to be part of our wedding vows?” Nora asked, raising an eyebrow as Ansel picked up the phone to order champagne. She fell back on the bed, inhaling deeply, and she waited for a sense of unease to follow. She was ecstatic to find that there was nothing but a deep, warm pleasure radiating through her body.
Things are finally the way they’re supposed to be, she thought happily. It has taken seven hundred years, but we are precisely where we should be. Some things are worth waiting for.
Nora stared at the glittering gem on her finger. It fit perfectly, of course.
Ansel hung up the phone.
“They will be right up,” he assured her, nestling back against her.
“Do we have time for a quickie?” she teased.
“There is always time for a quickie,” he replied.
Epilogue
Three Months Later
The easel was awash with a myriad of colors, a stunning contrast to anything Nora had created in the recent past.
I may be getting my groove back, she thought, smiling at the piece as she wiped her hands on her apron.
“Nora? I’m back from my run!” Ansel called from the kitchen. “Do you want some coffee?”
“Yes, thank you!” she yelled back. “I’ll be right out.” She slipped off her smock and cast one last look at the painting before slipping from her makeshift studio into the kitchen, where Ansel stood gleaming with sweat as he chugged a glass of orange juice.
“Were you painting?” he asked, and she nodded, a smile illuminating her features.
“I think I may be recalling how to use color again,” she informed him brightly. “I’ll show you when you have a minute.”
“I always have a minute,” Ansel said, stepping toward her for a kiss. Nora ducked her head to the side before his lips met hers.
“Turn that up!” she cried quickly, pointing at the television on the counter.
Ansel rushed over to find the remote, and his eyes widened as he turned to see what had caught Nora’s attention.
“—pled guilty yesterday afternoon,” said a newscaster, “but the judge is calling for an evaluation of Mr. Valducci’s mental faculties, as he has consistently rambled on about dragons and hellfire since a rash of bizarre fires have followed him. The gun used to kill Carolyn Halpstern was found in Mr. Valducci’s possession the evening he was arrested, next to the charred remains of his hired security, Luca Giovanni. The cause of Mr. Giovanni’s death is unknown, as the cause of the fire has not been determined. In other news—”
Ansel hit mute on the television and glanced at Nora.
“Well,” he said flatly. “I guess you know what happened to Valducci now.”
Nora stared at him for a long moment.
“Did he really kill her?” she whispered. “That girl?”
Ansel let out a deep sigh. “I believe he did, yes.”
Nora moved toward the entranceway.
“The post is here!” she called. “I hope there are more RSVPs. I am getting tired of second guessing.”
“What is our count so far?” Ansel asked as she scooped the letters from the basket.
“Fifty-six. Still waiting on another fifty plus guests.”
“What ever happened to you and me and a justice of the peace?” he teased.
“That was your idea, love, not mine,” Nora reminded him. “And I thought you were the one boasting that you could afford it.”
“That was before you started cooking for me,” Ansel argued. “Now I’m gaining weight, and Louis warned me that I’m getting too fat to fight.”
“You’re a heavyweight. You’ll be fine.” Nora ripped through the envelopes, relishing Ansel’s grimace.
“We have letter openers for such things, love,” he told her.
“Not everyone was raised a prince, dear,” she shot back as she pulled out the letters one by one. Ansel sat back and watched her expression. His brow furrowed when he noticed Nora smiling after she had opened one of the letters.
“What is it?” he asked, and she turned to smile at him.
“Your father and his new wife are attending,” she said. “And there is a note here saying that he has also asked your brothers to come.”
Ansel gaped at her.
“What?” he gasped. “You invited my father?”
She nodded her head. “I didn’t want to say anything because I thought he might say no, but it seems like he has come to his senses, after all.”
Ansel’s eyes narrowed, and a conflicted look crossed his face.
“Why did he agree?” he wondered. “He was always so against us being together. I feel like there is something underhanded going on…” Then he turned back to her. “What did you say to him?”
Nora shook her head.
“I merely sent him an invitation,” she replied. “And this is his response.” Ansel, however, still didn’t look convinced, and Nora sighed deeply. “It may have something to do with the present I gave him a few months ago, too.”
“What present?” Ansel demanded. “You didn’t tell me anything about a present.”
“It didn’t seem important at the time.”
Ansel narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously. “What did you send him?”
“I delivered it myself, actually,” Nora answered sweetly. “I gave him a Frenchman.”
Her fiancé stared at her uncomprehendingly. “What? He loathes the French!”
“I know. That is why I sent this one along.”
For a moment, Ansel did not seem to understand, but then his eyes widened in surprise, and the corners of his mouth turned up. “Did you… did you really…?”
Nora grinned and nodded her head. “I gave him Jerome, love. I delivered a Frenchman in shackles for your father to do as he wishes with him. Last I heard, he makes an excellent court jester and sleeps at His Highness’ feet. I do hope he brings him to the wedding as an ottoman.”
Ansel’s jaw dropped open, and he stared at her for a long moment before he burst into laughter.
“You are truly something else, you know that?” he snorted. Nora leaned in to give him a kiss.
“Yes,” she said. “That’s why you love me.”
Dragon’s Baby
Misty Woods Dragons
Dragon’s Baby
Text Copyright © 2018 by Juniper Hart
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.
First printing, 2018
Publisher
Secret Woods Books
[email protected]
www.SecretWoodsBooks.com
1
It didn’t matter that her head was pounding or that she was angrier than she had ever been in her life—Brooklyn Demeris was determined to apply her eyeliner and suck it up.
I’ve been in exile long enough, she told herself. This is happening, no matter what.
“Brooklyn? I need the bathroom!” Veronica cried impatiently from the hallway. Brooklyn scowled at her reflection.
“You need to use yours,” Brooklyn snapped back. “That’s why you have one.”
“I can’t get in there right now,” her roommate argued. “Come on, Brooklyn! I just need to pee!” Brooklyn threw open the door and glowered angrily at the petite brunette.
“No!” she growled. “Go undo the mess you made in your bathroom and stay out of mine!”
She slammed the door before Veronica could protest, shaking her head in disbelief. She had shared the three-bedroom house with Veronica Saddler for almost two years, and it seemed that the tension between them only escalated with each passing day.
There were fundamental differences between the women, ones that had not seemed enormous at first, but were quickly becoming a nuisance. Veronica was messy while Brooklyn, who was by no means a neat freak, did not appreciate the endless piles of dishes in the sink.
Especially when we have a dishwasher, she thought, willing her face to stop creasing so unattractively as she looked at her face in the glass.
Currently, Veronica’s bathroom was filled with random crap she had acquired online; currently unusable, because she could barely enter the room.
And she has a walk-in closet. What is wrong with this girl?
But Veronica paid her rent in full and on time every month, which was more than Brooklyn could manage half the time, forcing her to grin and bear the clash between them.
If I would finally get this damned promotion, I could get my own place and get out of here with my trusted dog, Hunter. Then I could live in peace and quiet, Brooklyn thought.
Veronica wasn’t the only reason Brooklyn was upset. She was still seething at Ryan, her ex-fiancé, and as she leaned closer to the mirror to correct the mess she had made around her eyes, her jaw clenched.
Her reflection did not please her in the least: her blonde hair, although freshly washed and styled, seemed to have lost its usual luster as it hung without any real energy about her shoulders. Teal eyes stared back at her, now encircled in smeared black liner, but lacking the glimmer they had once possessed.
What did he do to me? Brooklyn wondered numbly. He’s aged me ten years in one.
She was still beautiful and young, though, her prime years ahead of her. At least her figure was still intact, and she hadn’t sprouted any wrinkles just yet. It wasn’t likely that she had developed into a decrepit hag at twenty-five, but she felt as if her ex-fiancé had somehow drained the life out of her in a relatively short period of time.
She had dodged a bullet, really. Ryan had cheated on her with a stripper named Elena. She was lucky she had walked away healthy and with whatever dignity she had managed to maintain, thanks to the support of a very caring circle of friends. She wasn’t someone who would continue enabling his bastard ways. Besides, her friends had ensured she wouldn’t go back to him.
Brooklyn wiped her eyes with a cloth and started her make-up again. At her side, the cell dinged, and she eyed it through her peripheral vision.
Be there in ten minutes, the text read, and she groaned inwardly.
How had so much time gone by? She had been getting ready for over an hour already, and yet she was nowhere closer to being ready than she had been after her shower. She didn’t have time to respond to Audrey’s text. What she needed was to hurry up and get ready.
It would be tacky of her to be late. After all, the girls had planned the evening on her behalf, and while she wanted nothing more than to rip off her too short dress and crawl back into bed, she forced herself to move forward.
No man is worth this, Brooklyn told herself, reapplying her liner and mascara as quickly as she could, willing the Advil to work its action to tame her headache. The pain had been incessant for days, a throbbing that felt like her brain was swelling in her skull cap. Surely Ryan was to blame for this, too. It was just one more reason for her to hate her ex.
Brooklyn stepped back from the mirror and examined herself with bleary eyes.
The club will be dark, she assured herself. No need to go overboard. It’s not like you’re out looking to get laid tonight.
She slipped into her bedroom, grabbing a pair of red stilettos to match her cherry red minidress, and stole down the stairs. If she had not been so consumed in her own misery, she would have realized that she looked stunning, red undoubtedly her best color.
Veronica instantly jumped into her bathroom, as if she had been waiting by her closed bedroom door for Brooklyn to move.
I have to do something about that girl, she thought with annoyance, but her attention was diverted by a honking outside. The limo had arrived.
Brooklyn quickly put on her shoes and threw open the front door as Hunter barked in protest.
“Oh!” she cried, turning toward her German Shepherd. “Sorry, baby boy. Come and give me a kiss.”
He lunged forward, nuzzling his face in her stomach, and Brooklyn couldn’t help but laugh as she lost her balance and fell backward. Again, the limo horn sounded, and Brooklyn waved impatiently to indicate she was coming.
“I have to go, boy,” she told him, rising to dust herself off. “Be good, all right?” He whined slightly but permitted her to leave, his brown eye
s staring after her forlornly. It was all she could do not to rush back into the house and lock the door.
At least I have Hunter, she thought, closing the door behind her as she made her way down the steps.
“Hurry up!” Audrey yelled, poking her head out of the skylight. “We have dinner reservations to keep!”
“I’m coming!” she muttered. The limo driver opened the back to allow her in to meet her friends. The group whistled at her in appreciation as she slid inside and took her place on the white leather seats.
“You look like the whore of Babylon,” Maddy announced. and the other women hooted in agreement.
“Thank you,” Brooklyn demurred. “I wish I could return the compliment.”
“Ah, you see?” Audrey called. “She’s getting her sense of humor back!”
“My sense of humor was never lost,” Brooklyn sighed, accepting a glass of champagne from Stella as the limo pulled away from the curb. “It’s my pride I’m still looking for.”
“Screw Ryan Shilling,” Audrey growled, downing the rest of her goblet. “Screw all men!”
Brooklyn raised her glass and her eyebrow to her best friend, also swallowing a massive gulp.
Audrey is already drunk, she realized. She probably started drinking at home.
“Don’t worry about her,” Stella murmured, as if sensing Brooklyn’s thoughts. “If she gets sloppy, I’ll take her home. Don’t let her ruin your night.”
Brooklyn glanced gratefully at her. Audrey had been her one true friend through thick and thin, but there was no question that the girl was a lot to take. The running joke among them was that Audrey was an acquired taste.
They really did go out of their way to make this a good night for me, Brooklyn thought, glancing around at her half-dozen friends. I must have been more pathetic than I realized.