Someday My Prints Will Come

by Marilyn Baron

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Praise for Marilyn Baron…

  Someday My Prints Will Come

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Marilyn Baron’s Writing Awards to Date

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Bea’s Mandel Bread: A Family Tradition

  A word about the author…

  Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  “Mr. Emissary, just for the purposes of discussion, if ever we became lovers—that is to say, if I were yours and you were mine, and I held your heart—would you honestly want me to seek variety, as you call it, with other men?”

  He hadn’t considered that. It was a trick question, and he thought the best course was to answer it with silence.

  “That’s what I thought. I’ve heard it told that fidelity can be quite a turn-on. In my opinion, it is a virtue. You should keep that in mind.”

  She had cleared away the plates, and they were sitting on a very roomy and comfortable couch in front of a roaring fire, looking out the window at the waves crashing, drinking wine that tasted like the nectar of the gods out of crystal goblets, and munching on delicate slices of those almond cookies Eva was always baking.

  “What do you put in these things?” he asked. He thought it was very definitely some kind of a love potion, because he was feeling more amorous by the moment.

  “Calm down. I told you before, they’re just cookies.” She paused, drew a breath, and continued. “I’ve been thinking, and after some consideration, I’ve decided to let you instruct me in the ways of seduction.”

  He choked on his wine and had to put the goblet down. He was speechless. The things that came out of her mouth were a constant surprise.

  “I’m beginning to like the sound of this,” he said eagerly, moving closer to her. “It’s not every day a man gets to initiate a goddess. I imagine there would be a lot of pent-up demand, over the centuries.”

  “I’m talking about love, Mr. Emissary, not sex.”

  Praise for Marilyn Baron…

  “Baron offers a bit of everything…. There’s humor, infidelity, murder, mayhem, and a neatly drawn conclusion.”

  ~RT Book Reviews (4.5 Stars)

  UNDER THE MOON GATE: “A surefire blockbuster... a treasure trove of mystery and intrigue. It sparkles with romance…. I couldn’t recommend it more.”

  ~Andrew Kirby

  “Historical romance at its best.”

  ~TripFiction

  “I was fascinated by the intertwining of the characters in the stories from the 1700s to present day and I especially enjoyed the segment that took place during WWII. Great writing. Marilyn did a great job of bringing Bermuda during the WWII era to life in this book.”

  ~PJ Ausdenmore, The Romance Dish

  “An enjoyable read from start to finish…family, friends, enemies, intrigue and suspense…sadness, laughter, romance and ultimately love.”

  ~Romance Junkies (4 Blue Ribbons)

  SIXTH SENSE: “A great mix of romance, spine-tingling suspense, and real hope for two jaded individuals for a happily-ever-after ending. I’m looking forward to reading Book Two in the Psychic Crystal Mystery Series.”

  ~Tami Brothers

  “An intriguing, albeit reluctant, psychic detective in this paranormal romantic suspense story…a strong and captivating heroine.”

  ~Pauline Michael, Night Owl Romance (3 Stars)

  Someday My Prints Will Come

  by

  Marilyn Baron

  The Lobster Cove Series

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Someday My Prints Will Come

  COPYRIGHT © 2015 by Marilyn Baron

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc., except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com

  Cover Art by Debbie Taylor

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First Fantasy Rose Edition, 2015

  Digital ISBN 978-1-62830-883-9

  The Lobster Cove Series

  Published in the United States of America

  Dedication

  To my husband, Steve, my perfect match

  Marilyn Baron’s Writing Awards to Date

  Finalist, Georgia Romance Writers Published

  Maggie Award for Excellence, 2014,

  Novel With Strong Romantic Elements

  (SIGNIFICANT OTHERS).

  ~*~

  Finalist, Georgia Romance Writers Unpublished

  Maggie Award for Excellence, 2005,

  Single Title (STONES,

  originally titled THE COLONOSCOPY CLUB).

  ~*~

  Winner, Georgia Romance Writers Unpublished

  Maggie Award for Excellence, 2012,

  Paranormal/Fantasy Romance (SIXTH SENSE).

  ~*~

  First Place, Suspense Romance category,

  2010 Ignite the Flame Contest,

  (Central Ohio Fiction Writers chapter

  of Romance Writers of America)

  Chapter One

  “Mother, I think I’m old enough to handle this one,” Eva protested.

  “Age has nothing to do with it, sweetheart. The count is very powerful. And he has very powerful connections in this world…and others.” Esmerelda lowered her voice. “He’s evil. And I don’t want you near him or his son. I think you should let me handle it.”

  “But you always say the power of love is stronger than the power of evil.”

  “Don’t try to throw my words back at me, child. This particular case is different. The count has a long-standing grudge against this family.”

  “Then why did he come to us to try to find a match for his son?”

  “Because we’re the best. You come from a long line of respected matchmakers. We have no equal in our field. Therefore, grudge or no grudge, he comes to us…grudgingly.”

  Eva threw her head back and laughed, then grew serious.

  “You’ve taught me everything you know, Mother. I’ve performed hundreds of matches, good matches, and now you’re saying I’m not up to the task? At one point you’re going to have to stop protecting me and start believing in me.”

  Her mother looked at her and smiled. “I do believe in you. You are wise beyond your years, Daughter.”

  “Well, then let me deal with the count. He doesn’t frighten me.”

  “He should,” the mother said simply, but knowing her headstrong daughter, she knew enough to realize she was fighting a losing battle. “Well, then I insist on being there, in the background, of course. You won’t see me, but I’ll be there in case you need me.”

  “Agreed,” said Eva. “He’ll be here soon. I want to make sure everything is ready.”

/>   The women bustled about in the kitchen making preparations, tasting the soup, slicing the brisket, and pulling the mandel bread from the oven. Delicious aromas wafted around the room, smells Eva remembered as a child. Lessons she had learned at her mother’s knee.

  “The way to a man’s heart is through…”

  Loud rumblings, heavy enough to shake the ground and the underworld beneath it, interrupted Eva’s thoughts. She flew to the window. Her eyes widened as a large black chariot and four demonic-looking stallions pulled up in a cloud of dust. She swallowed her fear, smoothed her hair, and tried not to jump out of her skin at the sound of the series of insistent raps on the door.

  “Please, come in,” she said, trying to sound more confident than she felt.

  The count was tall, imposing, and darkly handsome in his black cape as he brushed her aside. His arm wound protectively around his son, who remained hidden from view beneath his father’s flowing garment.

  “Where is your mother?” his voice boomed. Eva retreated a step and then stood her ground.

  “I am handling the match,” she said, sticking out her chin defiantly.

  “You? Is this some kind of a joke? Tell your mother I insist she stop playing games and show herself.”

  “I assure you, this is no game. Before we get started, I have some soup on and some brisket warming in the oven and…”

  “We’re not here for food or idle chitchat, child. As I explained to your mother,” he said, looking around the room, willing her to materialize, “I’m here about my son.”

  “Well, then, let’s get on with it,” she said impatiently.

  He sized her up and took her measure slowly, boldly. Then he lifted her chin with his fingertips.

  “You’re just a child,” he murmured approvingly, adding, “not a bad-looking one, at that. High spirited, too. You look just like your mother. This could prove interesting after all.” There was a loud rustling noise in the broom closet. He turned toward the sound.

  “Just the dog,” Eva said quickly, wishing her mother wasn’t always so obvious.

  “That white piece of fluff?” he thundered.

  “That’s the one,” Eva nodded, too nervous to wonder how he knew about Cupid. She had put the dog outside, since she barked at everyone who came to the door, especially men. Cupid particularly hated men.

  “My god, that dog’s been around for centuries.”

  “Now…” Eva said, trying to divert the count’s attention, “is that your son hiding behind your cloak?”

  “I’m not hiding,” insisted the young man, coming out from behind the black folds.

  “He’s making his entrance,” his father said proudly.

  Eva barely smothered a smile.

  “Of course.”

  But when she looked up at the young man the smile faded from her face. He was staring at her with wide, flashing green eyes, and when he fixed those eyes on her, her heart started beating rapidly, uncontrollably. He was the most handsome boy she had ever seen. He was as fair as his father was dark. He had the most perfect, most angelic face and form, and her hand flew to her mouth as she tried to will her stomach to settle down. What was happening to her?

  The count seemed to be enjoying himself immensely.

  The boy extended his hand to her, and she reached for it. When he embraced it, sparks literally flew between them. She felt flush. An evil wizard’s trick. He’s trying to intimidate me, to undermine me. She pulled her hand away from the shock.

  She straightened and pulled herself together, trying not to stare into the boy’s face.

  “Exactly what is it you require of me?” Eva faltered.

  “As I told your mother, my son is of the age where he needs to take a wife.”

  “If I may say,” she said breathlessly, “your son looks like he is perfectly capable of finding his own wife without any trouble. Why come to me?”

  The count laughed.

  “Of course my son could get his own woman—they’re practically lining up at the door, panting to get in. But they’re not the right kind of women.”

  “What exactly is he…are you…looking for?” Eva asked, still spellbound.

  “I can speak for myself, Father,” the son protested when the count began to recite the list of requirements.

  “I’m looking for a woman who would make my heart pound like—” the count’s son began, but stopped in mid-sentence when he looked directly at Eva again. He finished his thought, half to himself. “Like it does when I look at you.”

  “My son,” the count corrected, “is looking for the proper woman with the best connections, the best breeding. She must come from the finest family, preferably royalty.” At this point he looked around the cozy, homey surroundings and sneered with disdain, as if dismissing them. “Of course she must be wealthy, and bright, and so beautiful that every man in the world would lust after her and wish she were his.”

  “So appearances are important to you,” Eva said. “And would a beautiful spirit be important, as well?” The boy’s eyes lit up, and he started to reach out for her to reestablish the connection.

  “If she’s too headstrong, we’ll break her spirit,” said the count, slapping his son’s hand away. “She must be obedient and submissive. And willing and able to bear children.”

  Eva flinched. She didn’t think she could subject any woman to the life the count was describing. But if the prize were to be the son, then she didn’t think she would want any other woman to have him, either. A single tear sparkled in her eye and rolled slowly down her face. The count’s son jumped up to wipe it away. And when he touched her, she sighed.

  “I think we’re done here,” the count said. “Do you understand our requirements?”

  “Perfectly,” Eva said.

  “I’ll be out in the coach,” said the count. “I’ll expect to hear from you soon. Come along, Son.”

  But the son stood rooted to the spot. Somehow he moved toward her, or they moved toward each other. And he took her into his arms, gently at first, and tentatively placed a soft, wet kiss on her lips, and another, and another, until Eva felt as if she were floating on air and suffocating at the same time. She responded and melted into him, and he molded his body against hers and kissed her then, more insistently, until she was breathless and trembling with need. His tongue invaded her mouth, and she cried out.

  She had never been kissed before, but her body was beginning to betray her, and her breath caught in the back of her throat as he moved his manhood against her. Her breasts felt full as she moved up to meet him. He deepened the kiss until her legs were ready to collapse under her, and still he wouldn’t let her go. She wanted more of him, but she didn’t know how to ask. He was devouring her with his lips and his eyes and starting to arouse her with his touch. He was hot and so was she, and they were scalding each other.

  Suddenly, the count swept back in through the door and pulled his son out of the embrace. When the boy slipped out of her arms, she still ached for him, and she was stunned by her reaction. She reached out for him. And he for her.

  “Eva, love…” was all he could say.

  “You’d better work fast, my dear,” said the count. “As you can see, my son’s blood is beginning to boil, his appetites grow hungrier, and now that his passions are awakened, they must be satisfied. Your mother knows all about awakening passions; perhaps she can explain it to you.” The count leered at Eva, as his fingers skimmed lightly across the swell of her breasts in a mock caress. “Please give Esmerelda my regards.” He smiled and doffed his hat toward the broom closet.

  “You forgot your cookies,” Eva said, shaking, as she reached down to hand the canister to the count’s son.

  “We’re not interested in your silly pastries,” scoffed the count.

  “You paid for them. They’re part of the package,” she said.

  “Well, then, we’ll take what’s ours,” he countered, grabbing the cookies from Eva.

  When the dust cleared, her mother swe
pt out of the closet. She was furious.

  “I told you that man was evil. He’s a snake. Dangling his son like that in front of you, like the forbidden fruit,” she fumed. “Why, he all but served him up to you on a silver platter. And it looked like he wanted to take a bite out of you, too. That was unconscionable. Why am I not surprised? The man has no conscience. Did you see him? He knew I was here all the time, and he was taunting me, like he always has.”

  “What do you mean, like he always has?” Eva wondered.

  Eva’s mother sat down on a chair at the kitchen table and clasped her hands together.

  “Remember the grudge I spoke of? Well, it was more personal than professional. Years ago, he came to our family to make a match. And then when he saw me, he made it clear he wanted me. And he wouldn’t stop until he made me want him, too. And I did want him, despite all his evil ways.”

  “And did he have his way with you, Mother?” Eva was almost afraid to ask.

  “I’m ashamed to say that he did,” her mother admitted, looking nostalgically at her daughter. “But sometimes good can come from evil. And when I wanted him to marry me, he laughed that cruel laugh of his and said I wasn’t good enough. How could someone like him marry a simple matchmaker from the old country? We were from different worlds. That didn’t change the fact that he still desired me, but he wanted me on his terms. And I refused his…proposition.”

  “Did you make the match?” Eva wanted to know.

  “Of course. And I doomed him to a loveless marriage for all eternity. I gave him exactly what he wanted, a beautiful, vacant woman with no soul. And when she came to him, she was already pregnant with another man’s child.”

  “The boy I just met?”

  “No, his older brother. He agreed to raise the boy, but he never forgave me for that. It was wrong of me. I see that now. However, in retrospect, maybe he got exactly what he deserved. It was a perfect match. He doesn’t have a soul either. But the younger son seems to have survived the union relatively unscathed.”

  ****

  It was only when her mother recovered her composure that she noticed her daughter was in tears.

  “Mother, what just happened to me?” Eva asked fearfully.