Shifter Romance: BODHI (LOST CREEK SHIFTERS NOVELLAS Book 4)
Page 29
Callista crossed her eyes.
“Criminy, Jas, it sounds like this century is in dire need of kick ass chicks,” she asserted.
Jasmin nodded.
“That’s exactly what I was thinking this morning, as we were planning a special tea for Nathaniel’s brother,” she revealed, adding as she made a broad gesture in the direction of her lover, “Nathaniel’s brother Alex is coming to visit from Birmingham today. And as I was dressing for the occasion, I came across a beautiful rose print fan that Nathaniel gave me as a gift, just last week.” She paused here as her face erupted in a gleeful smile, “It was so beautiful, and I knew you’d just love it. Suddenly, I wished I could show it to you, share it with you.”
“…And once again, your wish came true,” Callista interrupted her, adding as she folded her hands tight before her on the table, “As it happens, Jasmin, I was working my standard day shift at Chez Victoria, slingin’ chutney and clotted cream like there was no tomorrow, when I started thinking about how much I missed you—missed our friendship. Almost desperate for answers about your whereabouts, I approached Nathaniel’s painting and was searching its image for some sign, some clue,” she stopped here, raising two defensive hands before her as she inclined her head sharp in Jasmin’s direction, “Now don’t get me wrong, Jas. I really was searching Nathaniel’s pic for clues. I wasn’t mackin’ on your man or anything.”
Jasmin chortled.
“No worries,” she insisted, waving away her friend’s concern with a sturdy, dismissive hand, “I swear to you, Callista. If there’s a woman alive who wouldn’t consider mackin’ on my man, then I would check her immediately for the possible absence of a pulse and heart rate. Seriously.”
Nathaniel cleared his throat.
“Excuse me, Ladies,” he interrupted, shrinking low in his seat as he waved his ivory handkerchief high above his head in the fashion of a white flag, “In the room here.”
Callista guffawed outright.
“Sorry about that, Nathaniel,” she apologized, adding more seriously as she turned to face Jasmin, “So as much as you may have wished me back to your time, Jas, I may have wished myself back here as well.” She paused here, adding with a girlish grin as she sat forward in her seat, “And speaking of sweet dreams and fondest hopes, did you just say that Nathaniel had a brother?”
Jasmin nodded.
“Indeed, and a very handsome brother he is,” she revealed, casting a stray glance in the direction of a polished mahogany grandfather clock that occupied a far corner of the dining room, “And he should be coming for tea in, oh, about ten minutes or so.”
Callista bit her lip.
“Well that little factoid is most interesting,” she allowed, attempting a casual tone as she asserted, “And when one really thinks about it, he’d probably be here already if that pesky wife and kids of his weren’t constantly pestering him for this, that and the other thing.”
Nathaniel chuckled.
“My brother is unwed, Callista,” he informed his downright jubilant guest. “Alexander has just served his time in the Queen’s Army, and has come home with the hopes of finding a wife.”
Callista grinned.
“Well, I most certainly look forward to meeting Alexander,” her tongue stroked and caressed this grandiose moniker to delighted effect. “And for once in my life, I’ll be drinking the tea, as opposed to making it, serving it or spilling it.”
Jasmin chuckled.
“That’s the spirit!” she encouraged her friend. “We can talk after tea about what it might take to get you back home—if, indeed, you do choose to go. For now, my friend, enjoy Victoria!”
With these words, Jasmin approached the expansive bay window that fronted the dining room; parting the gold jacquard curtains that lined and covered its crystalline surface to reveal a vast emerald green meadow lined with towering stately oak trees that stood tall and proud above luxurious growths of scarlet red roses and lavender lilies.
The greyish hue of the overhead sky cast the overall scene in something of a somber prism; one that indicated to Dorothy, once and for all, that she and Toto weren’t in Florida anymore.
“Nice place y’all got here,” Callista observed in an awestruck tone, only to frown moments later as she stuck an accusing finger straight in Nathaniel’s direction. “All the same, you gotta come clean, Dude. What’d you do with the sun?”
Nathaniel and Jasmin laughed.
“Just think of it this way, Calli,” Jasmin reasoned. “In this place and time, we white-skinned gals don’t have to blow half of our paychecks on sunblock. And in the time of Victoria, we are ivory skinned, not pasty.”
Callista giggled.
“Good to know,” she answered, exchanging a hearty high five with her crony as she continued to admire the tender ebullience of the old English landscape.
Her eyes flew wide, moments later, as this landscape was enhanced by the addition of a particularly stunning accent; one that took the form of the most beautiful man she ever had seen.
Sitting tall and proud in the saddle of a stalwart ebony charger, their visitor likened a fairy prince in all his golden haired resplendence. His luxurious mane of golden blond hair flew like a pennant behind the nobleman as his strong muscled body—dressed as it was in a gold-trimmed, brass-buttoned scarlet red coat and tight taupe pantaloons—propelled the movement of his regal, fast flying mount.
“Please tell me that this is Alexander,” Callista breathed, hoping against hope that her profuse drool was not falling excessively to ruin her friends’ plush ivory carpeting.
Jasmin grinned.
“That be him,” she assured Callista, pinning her friend with an all-knowing smile.
Callista smiled as she anticipated her meeting with the ethereal Alexander; this beam quickly dissolving as she considered the steel grey servant’s dress that constituted her standard work uniform at Chez Victoria.
A uniform that, in her mind, simply would not suffice to cover her body during her meeting with the man of her fantasy.
“I’ve just got to change before the tea,” she insisted to Jasmin, “but into what? When you magically and accidentally morphed me back through time, you didn’t exactly give me much of a chance to pack an overnight bag….”
“I do believe I can offer you some assistance,” Nathaniel spoke up, adding in a tentative tone as he shuffled his feet beneath him, “You see, my dearly departed wife Eugenia was about your size. I’d be pleased to lend you one of her frocks for the occasion of tea.”
Chapter four
Moments later, Callista Vale emerged from the master chamber at the illustrious Barrett estate, feeling much like a woman transformed.
Clothed in a lustrous gown of lush purple satin that fell gracefully to her feet, a couture dress that came accentuated with a ruffled lace neckline, a body shaping bodice that served to accentuate her short slender form, wide sleeves that boasted additional fine lace and a flowing, shimmery train, she stepped gracefully down the winding corner stairway that parted the floors of the Barrett homestead.
Would this qualify as my first slo-mo entrance? she pondered, her face bursting out in the trademark serene smile that would and should characterize such a grand entrance. All I need is some retro Michael Bolton or Sixpence None the Richer tunes to lend me something in the way of musical backdrop. Ah, but I guess that these songs would not qualify as retro if they were played centuries before they were actually recorded, now would they? Damn, this time travel business sure does get confusing. At least…
All conscious thought was suspended moments later as she ran a smoothing hand through her freshly combed, shoulder-length mane of fire red hair and cast her gaze down the length of the staircase to behold the stunning figure of the man who captured her imagination; one who greeted her with a welcoming beam as he waited at the foot of the stairs.
Up close, she beheld the utter perfection of Alexander Barrett; the man who bore the visage of an angel, one that came complete with f
ull, moist lips, carved cheekbones, a planed forehead and cleft chin, and wide azure eyes that served to mirror those of his brother.
And the way that he is looking at me now is quite like the way that Nathaniel looks at Jasmin, she observed in silence, noting the glow of tenderness and bizarre, quite inexplicable recognition filling the eyes of the man who should be a stranger.
Somehow, though, he wasn’t.
The moment that her gaze collided with his, the whole world seemed to dissolve around them as they shared a secret smile; one that seemed to convey an eternity of emotion in a single simple gesture.
Callista drew a long, deep breath as she took a single step forward to meet her destiny…
…and fell flat on her face.
Or at least she would have had her destined duke not noticed her missing a step on the staircase and caught her falling, flailing body up in two muscular arms.
Sweeping her most literally off her feet, Alexander swept her up in a saving embrace at the foot of the staircase; staring deep into her eyes as he assured her, “I got you, Miss.”
Reveling silently in the deepened tones of his soft, sonorous voice, Callista smiled her thanks as she savored also the feel of his strong muscled arms; having no desire to leave his embrace as he cradled and held her close.
“Well, I was just about to introduce you two,” Jasmin’s shrill tones served to shatter their private and highly romantic vibe. “Ah, but you seem to be getting on just fine.”
Callista chuckled.
“This isn’t quite what it looks like Jasmin,” she assured her old friend, while secretly and inwardly hoping that this was indeed exactly what it looked like. “I took a tumble down the stairs, and Alexander the Hawt here arrived just in time to catch me.”
Pitching his golden head back in a leonine fashion, Alex let loose with a sonorous laugh as he set her gently and gingerly down on the floor before him; next raising her hand to his full soft lips for a gentlemanly kiss.
“I am indeed Lord Alexander Barrett,” he acknowledged, inclining his head gracefully in her direction. “And may I know the name of the most enchanting lass before me?”
Callista ducked her head, experiencing a rare moment of girlish giddiness as she took Alexander’s offered arm and the two of them followed Jasmin into the dining room.
“The enchanting lass before you is known as Callista Vale,” she told him, parting reluctantly from his side as they claimed opposite sides of the long, lace-covered dining table. “Psyched to make your acquaintance, Dude.”
Alexander frowned, obviously a bit perplexed by this unique turn of phrase.
“That’s Duke, Miss,” he corrected her gently. “And I am so very sorry if I—um—psyched you just now….”
He fell silent just now as his smirking brother let loose with a round of deeply voiced laughter that served to disrupt his awkward, rather apologetic dirge.
“You’ll get used to them, dear bro,” Nathaniel quipped, squaring his broad shoulders to proud effect as he himself used one of his favorite new phrases, learned courtesy of Jasmin, “These modern gals are off the hook, sure enough!”
Soon, the happy, laughing quartet settled down to a delicious and highly traditional Victorian tea; one that featured scones, pastries, biscuits, brie spread on crackers, and finger sandwiches made of turkey and cucumber—along, of course, with free flowing streams of various types of tea. So many varieties, in fact, that a slightly dazed Callista felt overwhelmed by it all.
And this is coming from a gal who has found meaningful employment at a tea room, she mused, eyes flying wide as she observed the diversity of teas up for offer at their elegant luncheon; all of which were served in delicate floral print cups atop gleaming silver trays.
She sipped and sampled the classic chamomile tea with lavender, that Jasmin counted as her favorite, as well as the sweet peppermint tea that Nathaniel preferred. Then she partook in the international teas that Alex had brought to the party; the African, Chinese and Indian brews that he had collected during his time in the Royal Army.
“Now don’t get me wrong, folks, I do love my tea. As a matter of fact, I love absolutely everything you’ve served me here,” Callista observed, taking a reassuring chomp of a creamy chocolate pastry that lay neglected on the border of her primrose print saucer. “Still, I must hasten to inquire—doncha have one drop of Coca-Cola anywhere on the premises? Mayhap even some Budweiser?”
While the brothers Barrett howled their mirth at the antics of their all too American guests, an understanding Jasmin graced Callista’s shoulder with a reassuring pat.
“Nope, sorry Calli. Those particular beverages haven’t been invented yet—that’s about the only thing that fully and truly reeks about this Victorian time travel business,” she told her, adding with an encouraging smile, “And while nachos haven’t technically been invented yet either, we happen to have all the makings for ‘em in the kitchen. Cheeses, meats, spices…everything you could possibly ask for and then some to prepare what we know as…”
“Macho nachos!” the ladies erupted at once, raising their hands high above the table to unite in a celebratory high five.
Although they had no earthly idea as to what a macho nacho was—or, for that matter, what a high five was—the brothers beside them also clapped their hands together above the table; letting loose with a manly cry of “Ha!” as their female companions retreated to the kitchen.
The ladies emerged a short time later with a steamy silver tray topped with thick, robust, supremely cheesy, nothing remotely wimpy about them (hence the name) ‘macho nachos’.
“These are sublime!” Alexander marveled, adding with the shrug of his muscular shoulders, “Of course, after consuming exorbitant supplies of hardtack during my time in the Army, I well suppose that a plate of berries and twigs would taste absolutely sublime. Yet these macho nachos, as you so adorably refer to them, are truly very tasty!” he paused here, adding as he pinned a grinning Callista with an inquisitive stare. “Please, Miss. Do tell me more about your wondrous time.”
Eager to oblige her most enchanting lunch companion, Callista immediately regaled him with descriptions of life in the 21st century; everything from planes and automobiles to keg parties and Outlander marathons—all of the finer points of life in the modern age, at least according to Callista.
After lending him this short, succinct primer on life in the 21st century, the curious woman asked Alex to describe his time in the British Royal Army; listening enrapt to his glorious tales of guarding and escorting the queen herself during her visits to foreign lands, riding across deserts in Africa and India astride regal, stately elephants, and—in one memorable instance—challenging a native to a savage sword battle after he was caught trying to compromise a lady.
“You go!” Callista praised him, pumping her fist to congratulatory effect.
Alex smiled.
“Why thank you, Miss,” he returned, ducking his head in a sublime show of gentlemanly humility. “I must say, though, that even here in England, we do not treat our ladies quite as we should.” He paused here, continuing with a marked grimace, “I cannot believe that we do not even grant them the right to vote or own property!”
Jasmin nodded.
“Well, I myself plan to do something about that,” she offered. “I am helping to organize a Votes for Women rally in London next week.” She paused, smiling affirmingly in the direction of her obviously interested friend, “And now that my bestie is here, well, let’s just say that Victorian society will never be the same.”
Looking at each other with amused gazes that eventually turn downright joyful in demeanor, the Barrett brothers exchanged spirited high fives as they lauded their ladies with a spirited, “You go!”
Chapter five
After talking and laughing long into the evening, Jasmin and Nathaniel retired upstairs to a master chamber of the Barrett estate; leaving Alex and Callista to retreat to the deluxe drawing room of this elaborate manse.
Their joined gazes paused to admire the cornice bound lines of this illustrious mural, finally careening down the side of a shiny silver brocade wall to regard yet another work of art; one that portrayed another decidedly angelic subject.
This large, brass framed oil painting portrayed the ebullient image of a veritable golden goddess; a tall, slender woman with flowing golden hair, wide dark eyes and a chiseled flawless face.
The model came dressed in a striking ivory ensemble that seemed to fit her celestial image. This fine example of Victorian fashion boasted a contoured jacket of satin and lace, as well as a bustled cream hued, lace lined overskirt with a crisp cotton ruffled underskirt attached.
“Is that Eugenia, Nathaniel’s first wife?” Callista asked, adding through gritted teeth, “The woman whose gown I cruelly bogarted for my own use this particular eve?”
Alex nodded.
“That is indeed our dear Eugenia,” he allowed, adding in a wistful tone as he cast a loving look in the direction of the painting, “And please do not concern yourself about the dress. Aside from being a raving beauty, Eugenia was the sort of kind soul who literally would grant a stranger the dress off her back if she so needed it. I still cannot believe that she has been gone for nearly three years now.” He paused here, his voice soft and reflective as he continued, “His dear wife Eugenia was claimed by the fever; ripped from Nathaniel’s arms so early in their marriage. In the wake of her death, he closed himself off in the lonesome confines of this house—the virtual mausoleum he’d once called a home. I swear to you, Callista, if it hadn’t been for Jasmin’s quite unexpected arrival, I do believe that my dear brother would have followed in his wife’s footsteps—dying an early and miserable death, this one because of heartbreak.”