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The Love Lottery (Paranormal Romance)

Page 5

by Linda Andrews


  ***

  Dante joined the circle of bachelors waiting in the palazzo leading to Cupid’s temple. Twenty men, including Signore Sienestra. All wearing their best togas. He’d already heard three of them rhapsodizing about drawing Lia’s name. He clenched his fists.

  He’d really messed up in the tower. Instead of mentioning the stupid lottery, he should have confessed his love, asked her to marry him, to be his family. As for his quest to find her family…

  He had hoped to give her peace of mind from the bullies. How could she have thought he’d ever considered her an outsider? That blood relations mattered to him? She belonged here, with him.

  Gods give me another chance!

  The crowd stirred behind him, but he kept his attention on the portico. Dawn blushed across the clouds. The ceremony would start soon.

  “Dante.”

  He closed his eyes. The wrong Lombard sister.

  “Alessa.” He’d gone to her house right after the swarm of butterflies had allowed him to leave the tower. All night he’d paced the salon, but Lia never came home. “Have you seen her?”

  “No.” Alessa worried the tassel on her belt. “And they won’t let me in the temple to see if she’s there, either.”

  If. Such a small word, yet his whole life hinged on it.

  “You don’t think she ran away, do you?” There’d been something so broken in her green eyes. The thought that she’d left for good dogged him. He had to get another chance.

  “This is her home. She loves this place and the people in it.” Alessa swiped at her tears. “If the stupid Consiglio Comunale would have just opened their eyes, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

  Gods, the council wasn’t the only one who was blind.

  “Maybe I could try to see if she’s inside.”

  “The maids are locked up tighter than the Vestal Virgins.” Alessa flicked a hand toward the temple. “Besides, the ceremony is about to begin.”

  The mayor emerged from the temple’s columns carrying the foot-tall urn. Black images of Cupid and Psyche chased each other around the scarlet surface. The council formed two lines behind him, but they parted from him at the bottom of the steps. They filed to the stone benches under the pines, while the mayor set the urn on the wrought iron table in the middle of the courtyard. Clearing his throat, he removed a scroll from his sleeve and shook it out.

  Dante groaned. The proclamation reached nearly to the ground.

  “I don’t see Lia.”

  “That’s because the maids haven’t emerged.” Alessa shook her head. “And they won’t, until the mayor is finished.”

  “And when will that be?” He glanced at the crowd. People crammed the open space, held back only by the arc of bachelors waiting for the opportunity to reach into the urn. The rest of the citizens—old, young, married and single—pressed behind them. Only the outsiders weren’t present—as decreed, they would sleep until the lottery ended.

  Sighing, he pushed his hair out of his eyes. There was no way he could enter the temple without being stopped.

  Finally, the crowd gave a smattering of applause, and the mayor rolled up the scroll. Dante’s jaw went slack as his sister emerged from the pillars. Men hooted. He whipped around. How long had she been putting her name in the jar? Blushing, she hurried to the urn, dropped a slip of paper inside then scooted to the mayor’s side.

  “Relax.” Alessa chuckled behind him. “They’re harmless.”

  They would be after he finished breaking a few bones.

  “That’s not your sister.”

  “No one has ever drawn her name in the two years she’s entered but…there she is.” Alessa nodded toward the temple.

  A hush fell over the crowd, and he jerked around. Lia floated down the steps. Her green gown shimmered around her lithe body. The gold hem skimmed the glistening cobblestones. Her hair fell in brown waves around her shoulders. Red rimmed her eyes. Her steps stuttered when she spied him. She quickly averted her gaze and stomped toward the urn.

  Dante stepped forward, but hands clamped onto his shoulders, holding him back. He jerked right then left, but they held him tight.

  Facing him, Lia raised her chin and her hand.

  He shook his head. Don’t do it.

  The paper hung from her fingers; then she released it. It disappeared into the urn.

  Around him, men sighed. Dante dropped to his knees. He’d lost her. Gods, please!

  The black figure of Psyche climbed over the lip of the urn. A moment later, a piece of paper emerged. The next girl in line froze in place. A gentle breeze lifted the scrap from Psyche’s hand and carried it toward the men. Dante leapt to his feet and chased after it. Three others broke ranks and dashed forward. Zephyrus, the West Wind, kept it beyond their grip until plastering it against Dante’s chest.

  Had the gods really answered his prayers? Peeling the paper off his chest, he opened it and smiled.

  “Lia Lombard.”

  No one protested. How could they? The gods had spoken.

  Lia stomped across the courtyard. Anger rouged her cheeks.

  “You need to put it back in the urn.”

  “Not for all the heat in Hades.”

  She lunged for the paper. Raising his arm, he held it out of reach. Psyche and Cupid materialized fully fleshed on the portico. Psyche’s bright-blue butterfly wings overlapped Cupid’s soft white ones.

  Dante gathered his courage. He’d asked for another chance, and it had been granted. So, he’d speak his piece. In his peripheral vision, he noted the crowd. The whole town was about to hear it. He hoped it was good enough to win Lia’s heart.

  Lia kicked him in the shin then grabbed the paper.

  “Ha!”

  He grabbed her, reeling her in until her squirming body was flush against his.

  “I’m sorry I stayed away for so long.”

  She stilled in his arms, but her muscles were coiled, ready to flee.

  “I’m sorry I was such an idiot to waste three years searching for your family when it is here and has been all this time.” He pressed a kiss on her collarbone, tasted the fear and hope on her skin.

  She relaxed. Just a little.

  He gently turned her until she faced him.

  “You are my home, and I have yearned for you every second we were apart.”

  Tears glistened in her eyes, and her chin trembled.

  Now for the hard part—releasing her. If she fled…

  Dropping to one knee, he fumbled to open the small purse on his belt.

  “What are you doing?” Lia stepped back.

  His heart stopped. When she didn’t move farther away, it slammed back to tempo inside his chest. Finally, his fingers found the warm metal. He offered her the plain gold band.

  “Lia Lombard, I have loved you since you hit me with pizza dough when you were twelve. Please marry me. Please be my wife. Please be my family.”

  She pressed her hands to her cheeks, but her eyes glowed with happiness. Such beautiful eyes. He wanted to look into them every day for the rest of his life.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Slowly, she lowered her trembling hand. He almost dropped the ring before he threaded it onto the proper finger.

  Fisting his toga, she pulled him to his feet and pressed against him. Gods, yes! Her smile beamed brighter than the shining sun.

  “I’ll marry you, Dante Trancredo. You are my love, my heart, and my home.”

  Thank you for purchasing a copy of The Love Lottery. Alessa’s story will be released as a full length novel January 2013 by Zumaya Publications. It will is part of the Dugan family series along with The Christmas Village and Some Enchanted Autumn.

  If you’re interested, I have other romance novels available at:

  https://www.lindaandrews.net/

  You can also sign up for my newsletter to find out about my upcoming romance novels, interviews, contests and reviews at:

  https://www.lindaandrews.net/

/>   I’m also on twitter @LindaAndrews

  And facebook: www.facebook.com/LindaAndrews

  And have a blog: lindaandrews.wordpress.com/

  About the Author:

  Linda Andrews lives in Phoenix, Arizona with her husband, three children and a menagerie of domesticated animals. While she started writing a decade ago, she always used her stories to escape the redundancy of her day job as a scientist and never thought to actually combine her love of fiction and science. DOH! After that Homer Simpson moment, she allowed the two halves of her brain to talk to each other. The journeys she’s embarked on since then are dark, twisted and occasionally violent, but never predictable. If you’ve loved one of her most demented creations so far, she’d love to hear from you at lindaandrews at lindaandrews dot net.

 


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