The Kiss: An Anthology About Love and Other Close Encounters

by C. A. Newsome

  "I'm not that old," Nick protests. "Besides, what do you offer her?"

  "I? I offer nothing." He turns to the girl, for once his expressions softens, his scratchy voice tries its best to be soft and warm. "Haven't you been told all your life that Paradise must be earned, not just given as a silly gift?"

  "We don't talk much about Paradise in my home," says Erin. "Just, you know, making a living, getting ahead, not being taken for a sucker."

  TT leans forward, getting right in her face. "Exactly! And now you are on the very cusp of your reward."

  Behind her Nick laughs. "Ask him what his Paradise is like," he says.

  "Unimaginable to the likes of you," TT sneers at Nick.

  "Are there angels?" she asks TT.

  "There are saints in my Paradise."

  "Saints!"

  "Ask Old Nick what you'll find at his place," TT's voice drips with contempt. She turns with a questioning look.

  "In my, ah, place, as he calls it, you'll find writers and painters, dancers and singers, poets and lovers, dreamers and doers. People who have occasionally been played for suckers and survived. In my house no one prays. Do you know why?" She shakes her head. " Because everyone is a prayer."

  "They don't pray because they know they haven't a hope of getting out," TT snarls. "And that's your choice girl. Paradise or a place without a prayer." He points to Nick who is looking off into the mist, a smile on his handsome face. "Would you buy a used car from him?" TT asks her.

  Yes, I probably would, she thinks sadly.

  Nick looks at her with love. “TT may call his home Paradise, but others have another name for it."

  "You can't cheat," screeches TT. "If you cheat I win."

  "Don't worry," says Nick. "I never cheat," he tells Erin. "And I don't sell used cars."

  "Times up," says TT. "Look." He points to where the rescue workers have stopped working and are standing around staring into her dismantled car. Her sprawled, bloody body is clearly visible.

  "But I don't want to be dead!"

  "Too late," grins TT. "No choice now." He reaches for her.

  One of the men leans into her wrecked car and presses a stethoscope to her chest. "There's a faint heartbeat," he says. His voice is not hopeful.

  "Nooo," screams TT, stamping his dirty feet in rage.

  "It's now or never, Erin," Nick says to her. He holds out his strong hand to her.

  "No! I am your only possible choice you stupid girl," says TT holding out his thin, talon-like hand to her. "Remember, everyone knows who Nick is."

  She is reaching for Nick when TT hisses, "Don't be a sucker."

  A sucker?

  She hesitates a moment then grabs hold of Nick's hand, leans forward and kisses him on his cheek. There is a screech of a nerve racking high-pitched sound. Instantly she is whirled away. Then blessed silence as she is carefully lifted from her car and placed on a stretcher. And the pain. Oh God, the pain is back. That means . . . she is alive!

  * * *

  Alison Blake is Irish-American but somewhere, not too far back, there must be some gypsy in her blood. Her aim is to live, for a short while, in every town. state, and country that ignites her imagination. Today the USA, next year the rest of the world. She’s also mad about horses, dogs and kayaking. Find out more about Alison Blake and her novels, and short stories at:

  http://www.alisonblakewriter.com

  *

  Dark Visions: The Paladin’s Kiss

  Jeanette Raleigh

  Isabelle lifted her skirts and stepped across the field, anxious for a glimpse of Luke. She'd seen little enough of him since he joined the ranks of the paladins. Straining on her tiptoes to see through the crowd toward the tournament fields, Isabelle missed what was right in front of her: Thindle Perkins. He had asked her father for her hand in marriage, never mind that Isabelle was waiting for Luke.

  “My dearest Izzy. I'm so glad you decided to accept my invitation.”

  Why, the little toad, the weasel. “I am here of my own accord and on my own behalf.” Isabelle would have stepped away, but a rather large woman and her brood of children were just now pressing through the crowd to Isabelle's right. Even if she made a decided bolt for it, she'd not get far. She ground her teeth.

  Thindle grabbed her hand, his own fingers thick and clammy. “So I suppose your father has told you of our engagement.”

  Isabelle pulled her hand back, “We're not betrothed.”

  Thindle smiled with a triumphant and nasty pride. He had all of his teeth, and while short, very short, and somewhat round, he was rich. Of course, he expected Isabelle's father to agree to the marriage. “It is only a matter of time, my dear. Certainly your family will approve of such an illustrious match.”

  “You made an offer. I have not agreed to a betrothal.” Isabelle found the opening she needed and with a sharp, “Excuse me,” she slipped into the space in the crowd, hoping Thindle wouldn't follow.

  “Izzy!” The nasal whine behind her rose in pitch and power while Isabelle darted between a pair of farmers. Dodging around three women, she rushed through the crowd. After a quick check behind to make sure she was hidden, Isabelle ducked into the stables.

  “You made it!” Stefan, Luke's best friend and likely the reason her beloved became a paladin in the first place, grinned from the back, where he was caring for his horse's hooves. Her intention had only been to hide, but finding Stefan here gave her a sense of unbridled joy. Where Stefan went, Luke was sure to follow.

  “Where's Luke?”

  “Out moping. He went to buy some meat and cheese.”

  Isabelle liked Stefan. He always had a kind word and high spirits. But Luke had captured her heart long ago. “Why would he be moping? You said he was looking forward to seeing me here.”

  Stefan raised an eyebrow at Isabelle over MudFlank's rump. “You went and engaged yourself to another man. You can see how that might not sit so well with Luke. I'm sure he'll get over you, but visiting him now will rub salt in the wound.”

  Isabelle crossed her arms. “Just because a man offers for me does not make me engaged. I do have some say in the matter, and how would he find out anyway?”

  “The gossips have you wearing the wedding wreath in a matter of weeks. Good 'ol Thimble Perkins, rich and eager. He’s been bragging up and down the coast about the lovely girl he’s planning to marry.” Stefan returned to MudFlanks, sliding his hand along the foreleg of the horse while he chuckled.

  “You're not nearly as funny as you think you are.” Isabelle stood quietly. She couldn't very well sit in the stables in her new dress. She'd stitched the hem herself, though her mother had done the sleeves and bodice. Everything had to be perfect.

  Now that she had found Stefan, she'd just wait for Luke to show. It couldn't be terribly long. She didn't count on Thindle blustering into the stables.

  “There you are, my Sweet. You do realize that things will go worse for you if I have to follow a merry chase every time we attend a function together.” Thindle curled his lip as he stepped into the stables in his finery.

  “I came alone to the tournament.” Isabelle said, “And I don't appreciate being followed.”

  “Not entirely alone.” Stefan popped his head out from behind the horse and gave a quick nod to Thindle. “You must be Isabelle's merchant. Thimble? I've heard so much about you.”

  “My name is Thindle.”

  “Stefan...” Isabelle's voice lowered in warning.

  Thindle's eyes narrowed at Isabelle as he looked from one to the other, “I forbid you to spend another moment with this man.”

  Isabelle's skirts swished as she turned on Thindle, anger sparking in her eyes. “How dare you. You are nothing to me. You'll not forbid me to do anything. I am here waiting for my beloved and you can leave. This moment.”

  “Your father will agree, and more importantly, he said no to your paladin. A few months and you'll come crawling back to me on your hands and knees.” He turned and stomped out of the stables, hi
s boots thumping against the dirt until he was out of sight.

  “What did he mean?” Isabelle turned back to Stefan.

  Stefan was no longer looking at Isabelle but deep in concentration on MudFlanks. The coward.

  “Stefan, quit pretending you didn't hear me and tell me what he meant. Did Luke offer for me?”

  Stefan's muffled voice came out from behind the stall. He clearly was planning to keep the horse as a barrier between them. “Last Festival of Lights. Remember when Luke and your father disappeared for a few minutes while we were playing games?”

  “Just for a moment. I knew he was upset after. I thought it was because you had to leave so soon.”

  “No, the only reason we left as early as we did was because of the answer your father gave. Luke couldn't bear to be near you, knowing that your father rejected his suit. We made an excuse.”

  “You told her?” Coming from behind Isabelle, Luke had heard the whole of the conversation. He was a tall man with golden eyes and skin that looked tan in winter. Isabelle's heart beat faster at the sight of him. It had been so long.

  “We've got to stop holding private conversations in the stables.” Stefan joked, his eyes merry with laughter. “You are both here. It's cause for celebration. Don't waste it.”

  “You would have left me ignorant?” Isabelle felt several disjointed emotions. Anger, love, frustration. She'd not seen Luke in months. He'd stopped writing. She wouldn't have even known the men would be in town for the tournament had Stefan not written a long letter with that last bit about how much Luke looked forward to seeing her. Now she knew why. He thought she was claimed by another.

  “Your father said I wouldn't be able to care for you.” Luke's voice was low and thrumming with pain.

  Stefan slid around his horse, “I'm going to the baker for a treat. Why don't you two find a private place to have this conversation.”

  “You're still a gossip.” Luke muttered.

  “He didn't tell me. Thindle did.” Isabelle sighed, wanting very badly to lean against the thick wood of the stable wall. If she were dressed for riding, she could. Seemed a waste to get all dressed up, only to go unnoticed.

  “Your betrothed?” He spit the word out like it was poison.

  Isabelle smiled then, for Luke's eyes flashed rage. “No, I am not betrothed to that little toad. So you do still like me. I'd wondered. You haven’t written yourself and apparently did not break your hand?”

  “My hand?” Luke stared at Isabelle, confused for a moment, then he thought of all of the letters Stefan had been posting. Stefan wasn't normally a letter writer. “Oh―no, my hand is fine.”

  She took his hand shyly, a smile on her lips while she looked into his eyes, and ran her fingers along his thumb and to his wrist.

  “And you didn’t even know Stefan was writing to me. You would have left me alone without a word.” Isabelle let go of his wrist. She wanted to storm out of the stables, but she couldn’t very well make a dramatic exit if the fool wouldn’t follow her. How would that feel, never to see him again after an argument like this?

  Looking over his shoulder to make sure Stefan was well and truly gone, Luke stepped closer, “I've told you plenty of times how I feel, but your father clearly has different plans for you.

  Luke's hands touched her arms. With an anguished look, he shook his head. Isabelle knew he was going to pull away. She felt shy and uncertain, afraid that this was the moment when she would lose him. Before he could move, she stepped into his embrace and pulled him closer. Wrapping her arms around him, she lifted her head, “I'm glad you're here.”

  They kissed, gently at first. She felt astonished at how sensitive her lips felt as they pressed against his. He tasted of cinnamon and honey, his lips warm and gentle. Isabelle's heart sped while she pressed closer to him, her hand wrapped around the back of his neck while she eagerly kissed back. Her first kiss. She never wanted it to end. She couldn't believe how much feeling seemed to soar in her heart, how warm and safe she felt in his arms, the excitement rushing through her body.

  He couldn't get enough of her. She welcomed his hands, trailing down her neck and pausing at her bosom.

  Then he stopped and pulled away. “I'm so sorry, Isabelle.”

  “Sorry?” It came out more like a squeak than she intended. She'd been so engrossed in touching him that the sudden absence of his body left her feeling unbalanced.

  “Your first kiss shouldn't come to you in a stable. It was ungallant of me, knowing that we will never be married.” The desire in his eyes raged, an inferno that threatened to burn her where she stood.

  She had thought the kiss would seal the deal. Maybe she’d made an error in judgment. “I will not marry another. My father will see reason. And then we'll kiss in the stables, and on the porch, and at our breakfast table.” She took a step toward him and lifted her hand to his shoulder, kissed him lightly again and whispered, “in the gardens. I had no idea how much I liked kissing.”

  Desire raged. Isabelle could feel the tremor in Luke's arms when he pulled her into his embrace. “Isabelle, I love you. If you'll wait for me, I'll build you a house. You'll have a garden and a closet full of the finest clothes.”

  “I don’t need closets. I just need you. Come, we'll speak to my father together.” Isabelle's request was a challenge. Luke accepted the challenge with a nod. Pressing close to her he leaned down for another kiss.

  “What is this?” Thindle blustered into the stables, removing his velvet hat in a clenched fist. His boots were somewhat high heeled to give him a few more inches, and what he lacked in height, he made up for in clothing.

  Luke stepped between Isabelle and Thindle, ever the protector, not that she needed protection from the likes of Thindle Perkins. “My apologies. We will go elsewhere.”

  Isabelle took Luke's hand and stood on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. “This is Thindle Perkins”

  Luke glanced down at Isabelle, and she couldn't help but grin at the expression of sheer shock. She nodded.

  He was so busy watching Isabelle that he missed the velvet hat smacking him across the face. “Take that.”

  “Hey!” Luke grabbed the hat out of Thindle's hands. “Stop that.”

  “Unhand my woman, you wretch.” Thindle's brows knit to a fierce scowl and his fists were clenched while he pranced around as if he were a boxer, “We're going to fight for her, you and me.”

  Isabelle took the hat from Luke's hand and threw it at Thindle. “I'm not your woman.”

  Thindle grabbed her arm. “I'm the richest man in the region, and I want you.”

  With the whole of her strength, Isabelle thrust Thindle from her. He tripped backward on his boots and fell onto the dirt. He picked himself up, brushing the dirt from his clothes.“Your father will be interested in hearing that your maidenhood is at risk. I look forward to my conversation with him.”

  Isabelle grabbed Luke's hand. “We'd better hurry. We need to get to my father before Thindle.”

  *

  Thindle delighted in the opportunity. Once Edward learned of his daughter's loose morals, he would have no choice but to marry her off. He found Edward walking with his wife through the vendor booths.

  With a nod to Edward's wife, Thindle made his request. “Edward, may I speak with you for a moment?”

  “I only have a short time. My wife has not dragged me through all of the tents yet, and I'd like to have supper before sundown.” He winked at his wife, whose face was as fresh and pretty as the day they met. Maybe an extra laugh line or two about the eyes.

  “Indeed. I've heard that wives can be a bit of trouble. Looking at the crowd, Thindle tugged on Edward's sleeve. “We need a spot of quiet for the news I bring.”

  In a low whisper in the small space between two tents, Thindle gravely spoke of seeing Edward's daughter, Isabelle, kissing a paladin in the stables.

  “I see. That is terrible news.” Edward said.

  “Imagine my shock when I saw her wrapped around him like a scarf.
” Thindle's face flushed, “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to give you such an image.”

  “Does that mean you are withdrawing your suit?” Edward asked.

  “No. But if you need her married sooner rather than late, I'm willing to take on the challenge. I won't allow the girl to run off once she's mine.” Thindle slapped Edward on the shoulder as if they were old friends.

  Edward rubbed his beard, “I still haven't spoken to Isabelle yet. I want her to be happy above all.”

  A sudden commotion in the crowd drew Thindle and Edward's attention. Luke and Isabelle were holding hands and out of breath as they arrived. They had gone left when Thindle went right. He'd been lucky and found Edward first. “Have you seen Papa?”

  Edward stepped into the open, Thindle right behind him.

  “There's the miscreant.” Thindle pointed to Luke.

  Edward took a deep breath when he saw Isabelle's flushed face and the look of adoration she gave Luke. He reminded himself that he couldn't very well kill someone for loving his little girl. “Luke, you will meet us for dinner at the dining tent where we will discuss today's events. Isabelle, you'll be accompanying your mother and I until that time. Good day, Luke, Thindle.”

  Isabelle squeezed Luke's hand . “Don't look so worried. Everything will be fine.”

  “Isabelle!” Edward called her impatiently to his side.

  “Sorry.” Isabelle didn't look the least bit sorry. She actually looked quite pleased with herself. And Edward couldn't help but see the stunned expression on Luke's face when he looked at her. So, Thindle had told the truth. As a father, the idea brought with it a painful melancholy. His little girl was a woman now and ready to make her way in the world.

  *

  The next afternoon as contestants were taking position on the field, Isabelle waved at Luke, the other hand shielding her eyes from the sun. He carried her favor, a cheery yellow ribbon, for good luck.