Fate

by Tia Wylder

  I frowned. “What’s that?”

  “Come with me,” he stood up and grabbed his car keys. “I have a surprise for you.”

  I blinked. “We’re…we’re not going to Derek’s, are we?”

  “No,” he laughed. “Come on. The sooner the better. This is something I should have done days ago.”

  Summoning my courage, I followed Damien outside into the bright sunshine. We climbed into his sports car, and he drove into town. We didn’t talk much – I could barely think; my mind was racing. How were we going to tell Derek? And what about Mom and Jack? What would happen to Damien’s job – would Jack kick him out of Empire Mesa? What would we do for money?

  I shivered.

  “I’m frightened,” I cooed “I…this is all happening really fast.”

  Damien reached for my hand and squeezed my fingers reassuringly. “I promise, Emma, nothing bad will happen.”

  “What…what about Derek? And Mom? And Jack?”

  “Who knows,” he shrugged. “But we’ve got each other, and that’s what counts, right?” He grinned, and I flushed, licking my lower lip.

  “Okay, I’ll try not to worry.”

  When he parked in the lot of the biggest jewelry store in Rolling Hills, I gasped. My heart thumped wildly as Damien led me inside.

  “Pick any ring in the store and then marry me.”

  My jaw dropped. “Are you…are you serious?”

  Damien dropped to one knee, and everyone in the store burst into applause.

  “Emma Rogers, I love you, and I know I’ll love you until the day I die,” Damien said. “Please, make me the happiest man in the world and marry me.”

  Fresh tears came to my eyes. All I could do was nod as the tears streamed down my cheeks.

  “Yes,” I whispered. “Yes!”

  Epilogue

  Six Months Later

  “I now pronounce you husband and wife. Damien, you may kiss your bride.”

  Damien took hold of the delicate veil shielding my face and pushed it over my hair. He winked at me and put a hand on the small of my back, pulling me close and dipping me into a deep, dramatic kiss.

  “I love you,” Damien whispered. He kissed me again, gently, then brought me back up to my feet and put a hand on my growing belly. “And I love this little one,” Damien whispered in my ear. “I can’t wait to meet them.”

  I grinned happily before slipping my arm through Damien’s. Damien escorted me down the grass aisle as our family and guests applauded happily. I must admit – I’d never thought I’d be one of those people who gets married while pregnant – but I felt radiant and glowing, like everything was perfect.

  Mom and Jack met us at the end of the aisle.

  “This was amazing,” I looked all around. “Mom, you did a wonderful job with the planning!”

  Mom beamed. “Thank you, sweetie,” she said. “Pretty good for only five months’ notice!”

  I flushed. Damien and I had kept our engagement secret for a month…but I’d finally blurted it out to Mom one night when we had stayed up watching old movies. She hadn’t exactly been thrilled at first, but Damien had worked hard on winning her over during the past few months.

  “I’m just happy you’re happy, darling,” Mom said.

  “Congratulations, and welcome to the family,” he smiled. “Now we’ll all be Wilsons.”

  I laughed and flushed. Damien rolled his eyes. “Dad, Emma was always family ever since you married Nadine.”

  For once, Jack looked embarrassed. “You’re right,” he apologized. “That was rude of me, forgive me, Emma,” he said. “If you’ll all excuse me, I’m going to get some champagne.”

  As soon as Jack had walked off, I turned nervously to Damien. “Do you think he’s ever going to be okay with this?”

  “I don’t know,” Damien said. “Give him some time. Dad doesn’t like change.” He rolled his eyes. “You should see him at Empire. It’s like he can’t believe that his son is finally taking an interest in the family business.”

  I nodded. “I get that, it’s a big change,” I murmured.

  Damien smirked. “Have I told you how beautiful you look?”

  I flushed, “About ten times.”

  “Well, let’s make it twenty,” Damien said. He pulled me into a close embrace and kissed me passionately, wrapping his arms around my waist and pressing his body against mine. I moaned softly and wrapped my arms around his neck as our kiss grew more intense.

  “I hate to ruin the moment, but I need to congratulate the bride.”

  At the sound of Derek’s familiar voice, I jumped apart from Damien.

  “Hi, Derek,” I said shyly. “Thank you for coming.”

  “Congratulations,” Derek nodded. “And I mean it.”

  “You look good, bro,” Damien said. “I mean that, too.”

  Damien wasn’t wrong – Derek did look good. After he’d found out about the engagement, Derek had quit Empire Mesa and moved out west to start his own consulting firm. He was tanned and more taut-looking than before. But most importantly, his eyes were friendly, and I knew that his thanks were genuine.

  “I hope you two are very happy together,” Derek said. “I’m going to say hi to Nadine and Dad.”

  Derek and Damien half-hugged, then Derek sauntered off to find our parents.

  “I hope it’s okay he came,” I said nervously. “I just…wanted to make sure things were okay between the two of you.”

  Damien smiled as he pulled me close. “I don’t know that we’ll ever be that close,” he said quietly. “But I have you, and that’s what counts. I love you, Emma.”

  I flushed with happiness. While I wasn’t sure what the future would bring, I knew that as long as I was with Damien, life would always be happy and perfect.

  "I love you, too,” I said softly.

  “Come on, Mrs. Wilson,” Damien winked. “Let’s go dance.”

  As my new husband and I walked to the dance floor, I couldn’t believe it.

  I’d finally found my perfect fairytale ending.

  *****

  Loved By The Rake

  By Kathryn Havana

  Chapter One

  Sinner! Whore! Wretch! Fallen woman!

  But it's not my fault! He took me in the night while I slept, even as I begged him to stop!

  Did you hear? Charlie Monroe's daughter bore a child out of wedlock! Can you believe! It's that new money, the middle class can't handle the rise in status, it overheats their brains. Didn't Charlie die a few years back? Poor girl lost her way without her father around to guide her. What a pity, she's so lovely, could have made a good wife for someone someday.

  A poorhouse is no place for a baby, young missy. There's charity homes you might take 'er to, churches and the like.

  I'm so hungry, I'm not producing enough milk for Rosie, she cries for hours from hunger, she is weak, her strength is fading, she's stopped crying, my child is dying, I must surrender her to save her.

  I'm a failure as a mother.

  Rumor has it that Lord Blackwood has his eye on you, girly, he's seen you in town, he knew your father.

  Write him. Tell him I accept. I'll leave straight away.

  Rosie, I'm coming!

  ***

  Lily Monroe's heart was pounding as her carriage came to a halt outside the palatial Blackwood Hall. Situated on the outskirts of London, the estate boasted lavish gardens on all sides, bordered by high, spiked, wrought-iron fences. The facade was fashionable, with ornately carved moulding and stonework, but much of it was painted black or left its natural gray. The somber house seemed at odds with the garden outside, which was well-tended and tidy. She could just picture little Rosie running and shrieking about in the yard, chasing a ball or a hoop, and she would be well-fed, and warmly dressed, and Lily would know forever that her child was cared for. This thought made Lily smile as the coachman opened the door for her and helped her out. As it was now, she could only wonder whether Rosie was happy, and hope and pray th
at the charity home was taking good care of her.

  Marry Blackwood, get Rosie back, were Lily's sole aims in life. Blackwood was such a repugnant man with such a horrendous reputation that after his second wife (rumored to be just as ugly and only half as agreeable as Lord Blackwood) died, there were no eligible women yet left in polite society who would consent to marry him.

  Except for Lillian Monroe.

  Her straits were dire indeed to ignore the warnings her uncle had given her as she readied to leave his home, but for years the guilt of abandoning her baby on the steps of the church had plagued her, and for years her heart had ached to see Rosie again. But the destitute orphan of impoverished aristocrats had not a cent to her name, and no means to care for her child. Lily could barely even care for herself, and she was now half-starved and sometimes sickly, forcing her into her uncle's care.

  The only blessing to arise from her terrible circumstances was a fashionably tiny, seventeen-inch waist. Lily was laced so tight she could hardly breathe, the bones of the corset bruising the bones of her ribs, and as the manservant led her up the stairs, she surreptitiously pinched her cheeks to make her complexion more lively. Her heart was in her throat now as the front door of Blackwood Hall swung open, revealing a spacious, lavish interior that belied the family's long-standing wealth. Lily had to remind herself not to gape, for she was supposed to be a girl of breeding, even if destitute, and she knew it was rude to stare, but from the shining mahogany floors to the high, carved ceilings with colorful frescoes painted at the top of the walls, she had never seen anything so magnificent.

  “Lovely, I know,” said a gruff voice from behind, heralding the arrival of a cloud of tobacco smoke and a certain other... odor. So, the rumors were true. Lily steeled herself and thought of Rosie, as she always did when faced with difficulty, and found the strength to plaster on a honeyed simper and turn around to meet, for the first time, her fiance.

  He was of a height with Lily, which was remarkable, since Lily was not a tall girl, and he was thrice as wide as she. He bore his teeth at her in what she supposed was meant to be a smile but it was not very merry, nor could she focus on it very well for she was distracted by the appalling state of Lord Blackwood's teeth. Several were missing, and the others were brown and yellow from years of excessive smoking. He reeked of tobacco, was smoking tobacco (making Lily's eyes water and forcing her to suppress her coughs), and when he moved, a smell wafted from his person that made Lily think he had not bathed since the New Year. He was also more than twice her age, with wiry gray hair growing in unruly tufts from the sides of his head, but the dome of his scalp was bald and reflecting the light from the sconces on the wall. He had an unkempt mustache to match his hair. After trying to smile at Lily, Lord Blackwood put his pipe back in his mouth and furrowed his brow at her in appraisal.

  Lily was twenty (to Blackwood's fifty), with soft, wavy blonde hair and gray-blue eyes. Her hair was pulled back and pinned in rosettes at the back of her head with just a few curls framing her face. The years of hardship had given her a delicate, angelic aspect, with wide eyes, pale skin, and a fragile frame. Her last pound had gone to purchasing the frock she wore, which was secondhand and at least two seasons out of fashion, but a pale blue color that enhanced her pallor, and of a cut which flattered her already pleasing figure. She widened her smile and curtsied at Blackwood.

  “So thin,” he grumbled, “you look like a bloody scullery maid, but eh, you'll do.” Blackwood waved a hand in a circle, indicating she should turn around. “Hideous frock. My God. You'll change out of that at once. Minnie will help you. Go on change, or you'll spoil my appetite. Then join us for supper.”

  Lord Blackwood lumbered off in a cloud of smoke, and a maid of an age with Lily took Lily's hand and led her down the hall to the stairwell. Lily bit back a retort that perhaps Lord Blackwood's appetite could use spoiling on occasion, judging by his size, but she needed Blackwood to like her so she kept it to herself.

  As she followed Minnie up the stairs, Lily locked eyes with the most beautiful man she'd ever seen, whose face was so devastating and his body so slender and strong that her knees felt weak and she had to lean on the banister for a second. He was tall and very sharply dressed, with arresting blue eyes and tidy auburn hair.

  It was easy to recover her wits, however, when the gorgeous man scowled at her in open disgust at her waifish appearance, then turned to Minnie and graced her with a devilish grin and a squeeze on the bustle, before sauntering off down the stairs and to the dining room.

  “The young Mr. Blackwood, I assume,” Lily grumbled.

  “Yes, ma'am,” Minnie said, blushing and breathless.

  Chapter Two

  “Lovely,” said Lily. “So the whole family is as charming as Lord Blackwood?” She cringed a little as she realized what she'd said. The stress must have been getting to her, because she was usually very polite, but Lily could hardly remember her last full meal or her last good night's rest, and now all this, no wonder she was feeling irritable.

  Minnie only giggled as she laced Lily's corset. “The young Mister Blackwood do 'ave his, er... charms,” she drawled in a thick Northern accent.

  Lily blushed bright red because she thought she knew exactly what Minnie meant. Still, she was curious, so she prodded, “... like what?”

  “Oh, mistress,” Minnie cooed, not at all embarrassed by this line of query and merely acting the part of the squeamish lady, “I shouldn't say, but... he do know how to hold a woman, if you get me.”

  Lily coughed politely and said nothing because she didn't exactly know. She knew that Minnie meant fornication, but the idea of such being pleasurable was lost on Lily. The only time Lily had ever been with a man was forcibly by one of her suitors in what felt like another lifetime, when Rosie was conceived. It had been a frightening and painful experience, and she could not imagine deriving pleasure from such a thing. But Minnie spoke about it with a delight that Lily found terribly intriguing, especially when she thought of Will Blackwood's broad but slender shoulders and his brooding blue eyes.

  Laced into the tightest corset she'd ever donned and nestled in laciest frock she'd ever seen, with a bit of make-up applied artfully to her face by Minnie, Lillian descended the stairs to dinner, thinking that if she kept lacing this tightly she should never be able to eat enough to be healthy again.

  The dining room was large and the table long enough to comfortably seat twenty. Lord Blackwood sat at the head, puffing on his pipe, filling the air with a fine, smoky haze. Lily steeled herself against the smoke, thinking that she would just have to get used to it, and she coughed into her hand as she sat down across from Will.

  Will was leaning back in his chair, had his feet on the arm of the chair beside him, and was puffing on a cigarette, which he thought much more stylish than his father's stodgy old pipe.

  “Good evening, my lords,” Lily greeted them, her voice restricted to a gentle coo by the tightness of her corset. She smiled at Lord Blackwood and fluttered her lashes at him. Blackwood grunted and sipped his sherry.

  “As I was saying, about the gold standard,” Blackwood continued, neither man so much as bothering to say a word to Lily, although Lily noticed young Master Blackwood's eyes drifting back to her irresistibly, as her new dress boasted a much lower neckline and bare shoulders. Lily blushed under the young man's gaze, feeling a strange ticklish warmth between her legs at the way his lips curled into a knowing smile behind his whiskey.

  “The gold standard is obsolete, the pound has the strength to stand on its own,” young Blackwood said to his father, waving a hand at him dismissively. He dropped his feet to the floor and straightened up in his chair, cocking his head and leaning toward Lily. “Father, are you not going to introduce me to my new mother?” He grinned crookedly at her, and Lily's heart skipped.

  “Oh, er, of course,” Lord Blackwood waved at Lily, “Miss Lillian Monroe, this is my son, William. Will, Miss Blackwood.”

  “It's a pleasure,” Lily sa
id, and although Will was as much of a boor as his father, she really meant it. It was a pleasure. Will made her feel strange. She didn't like him, personally, but she liked being around him, if that made sense.

  “Charmed, I'm sure,” Will drawled, sitting back in his chair, ashing his cigarette on the floor. Another young maid came by to sweep up the ashes and Will thumped her on the bottom with a laugh. She squealed and scurried from the room, glancing back at him with a grin.

  “For God's sake,” Lord Blackwood muttered, “contain yourself, child.”

  “I'm not a child, I'm twenty-five,” Will scoffed, “and I'll do as I please.”

  “Do as you please and run our family's name into the ground!” Lord Blackwood blustered, rising to his feet, his face beet red, and Lily guessed he was probably at least four sherries deep. “What I'd do if your mother was alive--”

  “But she's not, is she?” Will sprang to his feet too and drained his whiskey. “Mother's dead, and you've already run our family's name into the ground. You're a laughingstock, old man, it doesn't matter how rich we are if you can't keep le bon ton, for Christ sakes--”

  “Watch your tongue!” Lord Blackwood cried incongruously, for he cursed as much as his son, but it was now almost entirely the sherry talking. Will set his glass down loudly.