THE ROMANCE COLLECTION
The Romance Collection Volume I and II combined features nine romantic novels ranging from every genre which includes historical, contemporary, and paranormal romantic suspense. From damsels in distress, to vampires, druids and gargoyles this collection has everything you want in a romance collection! Be sure to scroll down to read sample first chapters, synopsis, and more!
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THE CHOSEN ONE is a short story about a young girl who falls in love with a creature from the forest - a gargoyle. This short love story is about the power of love and how our differences from each other shouldn't hinder our ability to love each other. Love isn't about being black, white, or the other. It's about having love in your heart for another individual and loving them, regardless of differences, from the bottom of our hearts.
CHAPTER ONE
Ireland, 1750
“RUN, NATASHA, RUN!” cried Bocklohan.
“Help me!” she screamed as she ran for cover.
Bocklohan could hear the others approach from behind him and he knew he had to do something and fast. Natasha ran into the thick brush, but she was heavy with child and in labor pains.
“I can’t go any further!” she said in panic. Natasha collapsed onto her knees, breathing hard and in tears.
Bocklohan swooped down and grabbed her. Once in his firm embrace, he flew her to safety at his cave. After he landed, with Natasha still cradled within his arms, he ducked into the hidden entranceway to the cave and carried her to a makeshift bed made of old blankets and linens.
He laid her down and stroked her blond tresses away from her brow with a tender finger, and whispered, “It’s alright, my precious. I am here with thee, now.”
“Bocklohan….,” she sniffed in tears. “I’m scared.”
He could sense her time was near and consoled her, “There is no need to fear, my love. It is in our natures to know how to deliver our mates babies. You are in good hands.” But Bocklohan sensed that Natasha was not well. “Just rest now, precious.”
“But the others were after me,” she whispered in tears. “If they find me they will kill me and our child.”
“They know not where you are now. This cave is unknown to my people. They will not find you here. You and our unborn child are safe.”
Natasha had a contraction and her back arched, “Something is wrong, Bocklohan. Something is terribly wrong.”
Bocklohan knew this, but tried to console her best he could, “My dearest, you are heavy with child. At any moment you will deliver. Try not to worry yourself so.”
Natasha reached her hand up to Bocklohan’s face and traced his strong square jaw line. He closed his eyes momentarily as he felt her touch, and then met her own. She smiled at him. “I have never loved anyone as much as I have loved you. You are my soul mate, Bocklohan. I have always known this.” She fluttered her eyes and arched her back once again. The pain was intense, riveting, and Bocklohan saw the puddle of blood on the ground. “I know I will not make it. I know something is very wrong. But I want you to know, from the bottom of my heart, that I loved you with my every breath. Even in death, I will always love you……,” her words trailed off as she once again buckled in pain.
Bocklohan fought back the tears and tried to be strong for her. “Natasha, please don’t speak of such things. You must be strong for me and for our unborn child.”
Meeting his gaze once again, Natasha breathed in a tiny whisper, “You must promise me that you will protect our child. You must promise me that he will not be hurt by the others.”
“I promise, my precious. Our child will be safe. I will see to it that nobody knows his heritage. It will be our secret.”
At that moment Natasha arched once again and she delivered. Bocklohan went to the tiny wriggling body and wrapped it in a waddling cloth. It was a boy and he was beautiful. He handed the baby to Natasha and she reached out for him. As she cradled him in her arms she beamed, “He’s beautiful! He looks just like his father, so strong…..” Her voice once again trailed off. “I name him Aiden, prince of Gosha, son of Bocklohan.”
“It is a most befitting name.” He looked at his beloved mate and knew her time was short. He leaned down and lay next to her, then wrapped his arm and one wing over her body to keep her warm. He nuzzled her neck. “We will lie together and keep each other warm, my precious.”
Natasha shivered in his embrace. “I am cold,” she admitted. Once Natasha was in his protective arms, Natasha fell asleep, never to awaken again.
Bocklohan felt the tears sting his eyes as he looked at Natasha’s dead lifeless body. She was his life mate and now she was gone forever. He touched Aiden’s head and stroked his black shiny hair. He knew his son was fortunate that he was born without any trace of cross breeding. Otherwise, he would be banished by his people and would not be fit as prince. Bocklohan knew that Aiden was hungry and could sense his need to feed. He would have to find a wet nurse to care for him.
Bocklohan bundled his tiny son and cradled him within his arms. “You will be fine, my son. Worry not.” He could not contain his tears as he considered life without Natasha. She was his soul mate. Although he had concubines that were of his own kind, he never loved them like he did Natasha, and she was the only one who had bore him a child. Aiden, being the firstborn, would be heir to the thrown and prince of Gosha. But Bocklohan didn’t know how he would keep Aiden’s human heritage a secret from the others.
He stood up with his child in his arms. He knew he needed to find a wet nurse for his son and quickly. He would have to come back and bury Natasha later. He went to the secret exit of the cave and took flight. Within half an hour he entered into a private tunnel that led to his quarters. Once within his private room, he hid Aiden within a trunk and bundled him safely with a warm throw.
Aiden began to cry and Bocklohan soothed him, “Hush now, little one. I will find someone to feed you. But you must be silent.” The tiny child peered up at his father and ceased to cry any longer. Bocklohan smiled at him. “I will be back very soon.” He closed the trunk part way and left his quarters in haste. He went to his concubines and found Syri, his personal servant and concubine. She had recently miscarried with his child and was still producing milk. Bocklohan approached her.
Syri stopped what she was doing and bowed to him. “King Bocklohan. How may I serve you?”
Syri had always loved Bocklohan and was always eager to please him. “You must come with me. I must speak with you.”
Syri stood to her feet and bowed her head. “As you wish, my lord.”
Bocklohan led the way and Syri followed. Once they reached his quarters he locked the door behind them. Syri sensed something strange within his room and looked at Bocklohan confused. “I smell a child.”
He walked over to the trunk and opened it up all the way. “Come, Syri.”
Syri walked quickly to the trunk and gasped, “A baby! Where did you get him?” She immediately reached down and grabbed the tiny newborn into her arms. “He’s hungry. Where’s his mother?”
Bocklohan swallowed hard. “You are his mother.”
Syri asked confused, “What?”
“Are you still producing milk?”
“Yes, I am.”
“The child in your arms is my son. He is a half breed. His mother died giving birth to him just a few hours ago. His name is Aiden. He needs a mother. You will tend to him and treat him as your own.”
Syri stared at Bocklohan in amazement. “He’s a half breed.” She marveled at the young child in her arms. “He looks just like one of us.” She said with amazement.
“He was fortunate he was not born with human features. You are the only one who knows about this, Syri. If you tell anyone, the child in your arms will be killed, as well as me. Do you understand?”
Syri’s eyes widened with fear. “Then nobody should ever find out about this. He is just a helpless child.” She paused for a moment and tears rose up in her eyes. She confessed, “I have always loved you, Bocklohan. Always. I just wish I could have given you a child.” Syri knew after her tragic miscarriage that she would no longer be able to conceive. Aiden would be the closest thing she would ever have to a child of her own.
“I know you do. It is the reason I have chosen you to care for my beloved son. You will be his mother now. You will be my life mate, now that Natasha is dead.”
“But how will we explain his presence? The other concubines know I miscarried a few days ago.”
“We will tell the others that he is the twin of the one of who died. You will abide with me from now on, Syri, so my son will be close.”
“I will stay with you, my lord. I will do as you wish of me. Aiden will be as my very own. But he doesn’t have my scent, my lord. Will the others not notice this?”
“You must nurse him and keep him close to you. He will pick up your scent, in time.”
“He looks like one of us, but he doesn’t smell like one of us.” Syri looked up at Bocklohan concerned.
“He smells sweet, like a human, like his mother.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I must go now. I must bury his mother. I had to leave her so I could bring Aiden to you.”
Syri could see that her king was hurting. “I will claim him as my own, my lord. Go, bury your love. Aiden will be fine with me until you return.”
Bocklohan fought back the tears and turned on his heel to leave, to bury the only woman he had ever loved.
THE MYSTERY OF CAPWELL CASTLE is a very short paranormal romantance about a young girl on a mission of truth. It is about fate and how life, whether we realize it or not, has a plan for us even when we think otherwise. This is about fate, love, and acceptance of ones differences.
CHAPTER ONE
A LONG TIME AGO IN THE DEEPEST PART of the forest lingered a mystery where all living creatures dwelled in fear. There was a castle of wondrous splendor set back amongst the trees. A gushing spring ran behind the castle from one end to the other. Even from the road you could hear the current of the water splashing against the large rocks. Almost deafening was the roar of the running water.
As a child with little wealth, Audrey use to sneak around the tall magnolia and fruit trees. She would look upon the castles splendor while munching upon a juicy apple or pear. She would daydream of walking through the castle doors, exploring every room, and pretending that she a princess, but it seemed that Audrey would never get to see the inside of the castle. There was this legend that whosoever entered upon the land, or walked through the castle doors, would die from a mysterious death. This is the legend of Capwell Castle.
***
“Grandma, tell me the story about Capwell Castle.”
“Audrey, why would you want to know about that horrible place? You haven't been sneaking around there again have you?”
“No, Grandma. I only went to the fruit trees.”
“Why do you want to know about Capwell Castle? It’s not something a little girl should worry herself about.”
“I’m not a little girl anymore, Grandma. I’m fourteen years old now. Ever since I was little I always wanted to see inside the castle. I have had lots of fantasies about living there someday. I don’t understand why everyone is so afraid. It’s so beautiful there.”
“Audrey, I never knew you thought about it so much, perhaps I should tell you the story so you will never set foot near that place again. There use to be a man named Oliver Capwell. He married a woman named Elisa Rose Montgomery. She was an upright woman who came from a very poor family. She lived on a farm west of here. Oliver was a cruel man. He had many slaves who worked the fields and tended to the castle. When the slaves did not deliver what Oliver wanted his punishment was harsh, even to the point of death. The townspeople hated Oliver, but he was the owner of these parts, as well as the wealthiest man in the land. He would charge the townspeople outrageous taxes and fees to the point that almost everyone lived in severe poverty. Oliver Capwell was a man who believed in punishment. He had a chamber in his castle called the Dungeon of Death. It was there Oliver would deliver punishment of anyone who disobeyed him. It was rumored among townsman that Oliver ate the people he had slain, for the dead bodies where never recovered. Then one spring something happened at Capwell Castle. Oliver had become very angry because the servants didn’t plant the crops on time due to the heavy floods. The townspeople had the same difficulty, therefore people couldn’t pay their taxes or give him his percent of their profit. Then one night when the heavy storms came beating upon the ground and the fog lay thick upon the land, Oliver Capwell started delivering his punishment upon the people. Terror fled through the town as people heard the screams echoing through the streets. People started packing their belongings trying to escape in the night from his wrath. And poor Elisa Rose, his faithful wife, suffered more than anyone else did. Year after year Elisa bore a child. To this day nobody knows how many children Elisa had. Oliver was such a cruel man that he even put his own children to work in the fields and treated them no different from the other slaves. One time I remembered seeing Elisa in her carriage near the fruit stand. When I looked in the window I saw her crying. She said, “My baby, my baby is dead!” I still get chills thinking about it. I didn’t stay long after that. I saw Mr. Capwell coming around the corner so I went away in haste, but I heard he even ate his own children.”
“Oh! Grandma Ivy, how could anyone eat their own children? What a horrible man. What ever happened to him and Elisa and all the servants at the castle?”
“That, my child, is a mystery. Nobody knows exactly what happened at Capwell Castle. We do know that people started getting very sick. His servants started dying. A lot of people believed he killed them, but nobody knows how. Oliver Capwell and Elisa had many children. Yet, where are they now? It is unclear what happened to all those people. That is why I don’t want you going there. Something terrible might happen to you, my dear. I would never forgive myself if it did.”
“What happened to Elisa Rose?”
“Elisa mourned over the death of her children terribly. She couldn’t handle losing all of them. Oliver was so mean to her. With all his wealth she dressed in rags. I don’t think he even loved her. He kept her prisoner in her own home. She hardly ever got out of the house. One day Elisa was found dead out in the wine seller. She had hung herself from a rope. There was never a funeral for Elisa or any of her children. Nobody knows what happened to all of them. Capwell Castle has always been known as the Castle of Death. Nobody has set a foot in that Castle since all the people started to die. People believed the house was under a terrible curse and anyone who set foot under that roof would fall under that same curse. People believe that the dead bodies are still in that house, scattered through the castle halls and in the Dungeon of Death. As far as we know, everyone died who lived in that house. Some people thought it was the plague, others a curse, some self-mutilation. My child, that house could never be a part of any wonderful fairy tale of yours.”
“Grandma, I didn’t know how horrible the story was. I am so sorry I brought it up to you. I’m sorry if I upset you.”
“It’s all right, child. Just remember what I have told you and do what I say. Don’t go near the Castle of Death.”
“Yes, Grandma Ivy.”
Prisoner of Passion is a historical romance about a young girl, seventeen-year-old Daphne Anne Collins, who is betrothed to marry a man she doesn't love. In order to escape her impending fate she runs away from home, only to find herself taken hostage by two drunkards at the local tavern. Unconscious and vulnerable, Daphne isn't aware that she has been rescued and taken aboard a ship. When she awakens, she finds herself staring up into the eyes of a mysterious stranger, thirty-five-year-old Damian Michael Bordeaux, and cuddled in his strong arms. Daphne soon realizes that her valiant savior has now become her captor. At first she fears the mysterious handsome man that keeps her in bondage, but each tumultuous adventure that lays in their path leads them one step closer into the other's heart, until they both become in the end a Prisoner of Passion.
Chapter One
Fairview 1886
“No! I will not marry a man I don’t love.” Daphne stormed into her bedroom and slammed the door shut. She fell onto her bed in a helpless heap and sobbed into her pillow, as her cries of desperation distressed her parents to no end.
Her mother, Rose Ella, sat beside her daughter and stroked her long black tresses away from her face. “Please don’t cry. It hurts me to see you so upset like this.”
Daphne wept, her voice tainted with tears and confusion. “I wouldn’t be so upset if you and papa weren’t making me marry a man that I don’t love. I do not even know this man. How can I possibly marry him? Why is it I just now found out I was to be married off anyhow? Did I not have a right to know?” Her tear streaked face was grimaced with confusion as her solemn green eyes pierced her mother’s heart.
“We didn’t think it necessary to tell you until the time came. We had no idea he wanted you so soon until we received word a few days ago. He feels he has waited for you long enough and wishes to marry you now, instead of having to wait another year until your eighteenth birthday. Daphne, you have not even given this man a chance. Renée Watson has been an acquaintance of mine since I was a little girl. You’ll like her son Nathan.”
“He’s coming into town tomorrow and I may never see you and papa again.” she whimpered.
“Oh honey, of course you’ll be able to see us again.” she consoled as she stroked her daughters head with a soothing hand.
“I’m too young to marry an old man. Why can’t I marry someone my own age?”
“Daphne I hardly think you can call Mr. Watson old. He’s only thirty-two.”
“But mama, I’m just seventeen!” Daphne started to weep again and her body shook from emotion.
Her mother smiled to herself and patted her daughter on the back to reassure her. “Sweetheart I think you’re getting all upset for nothing. You should be happy that a prosperous man like Nathan is to wed you. Living in poverty your whole life like your papa and me is not the way to live. You know how difficult it has been for us. Don’t you want more for yourself?”
Daphne shook her head. “No! I just want to stay here. Please, mama. You have not even seen this man since he was a kid. What if he’s horribly ugly?” She looked at her mother and pleaded. “I don’t want some ugly old man to touch me.”
Rosé Ella got up from the bed and walked over to the door bewildered. “I’m tired of coddling you Daphne. You are not a little girl anymore and it is time you start acting like a woman. You will marry this man no matter how horribly ugly he may be and nothing is going to change that fact.” Rose Ella turned around and walked out the door, leaving her bewildered daughter to cry alone.
Daphne was beside herself. She didn’t want to marry a man she didn’t have feelings for and even worse, a man she did not even remember from her childhood. Daphne got up from the bed and started to pack her some clothes in an old laundry sack. “I’ll run away first before I marry a man that I don’t love!”
Daphne was a waif like girl that had a long black mane that fell down to her hips. Her eyes, which were a beautiful color of sea foam green, were a marked contrast next to her fair complexion. Her short five foot two inch frame only intensified her dainty stature and made her look even more youthful than her seventeen years. She hid her belongings under her bed and decided to wait until evening to attempt her escape. When she was finished, she went into the kitchen and sat down at the dinner table, her body in a slumped position as she sulked in tears. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and sat there with a somber pout, her bottom lip pushed out with downcast eyes.
Her father considered her bewildered state, shook his head, and sighed. “Pouting like a child isn’t going to change our minds Daphne. Mr. Watson will be here tomorrow afternoon and you will be going home with him.”
“But papa, why do I have to marry this man? Just because you and mama made a promise to some friends when I was small does not mean I have to hold to that promise. Why can’t I choose my own husband?”
“It’s more than a promise Daphne it’s our word. I vowed to him years ago that he could have you and he has waited all this time until you were old enough to take as his wife. Now Nathan has been patient. He has waited for you for a long time now. When he comes to visit us tomorrow I’m not going to send him away empty-handed.”
“Why did you have to make some stupid vow?” Daphne broke into tears and her body shook with dismay.
“Renee was your mama’s best friend growing up and her husband was mine. They were born with money and they knew we had a hard life as kids. They saw how hard we struggled to get by when you were born and they told us when you were old enough that their son would wed you. They were doing us a favor Daphne, a big one. We didn’t want you to end up like us poor peasant farmers. Mr. Watson was born into money. He can take care of you like nobody else can.”
Daphne lost her appetite and only picked at her food. Her parents could tell she was distraught over the news and watched her with concern. Rose Ella became irritated and quipped. “If you’re not going to eat anything then go and take your bath. I want you looking sharp for your new husband tomorrow.”
Daphne got up from the table and went to her bedroom. As she slipped into her warm bath, she began to cry, and her tears fell about her creamy white cheeks. She scrubbed her face and washed her long black curly hair. She pulled the dampened curls about her shoulders and let them hang down past her right breast, then sunk deep into the tub. She wondered what kind of man Nathan Watson was and her mind became troubled.
When evening came, everyone had settled into bed for the night. Daphne waited until the house was silent and her parents were asleep before she attempted her escape. She grabbed her laundry sack that held her clothes, then tiptoed quietly through the kitchen and unlocked the front door. Within moments of her escape, Daphne hastened down the dirt road that led into town.
She didn’t care where she ended up as long as she went as far away from home as possible. The dark road appeared to cave in on her as the branches on the trees protruded out like crooked fingers, almost as if they reached toward her in the shadows of night. The moon was full and lent her enough light to see up ahead in the distance, but it swayed in and out behind the stormy clouds that passed overhead.
She picked up her pace as the sounds of crickets and frogs echoed into the stillness, and she shivered with fright when the howling of wolves came from behind her. Within the hour she saw the small village up ahead, its quieted roadways not inhabited with horse and carriage, and the vender’s tables that lined up about the sidewalk during the day were now empty. Nobody was about, the town asleep at that hour, and Daphne looked around the quiet roadway in hopes that someone could help her. The merchant ships wouldn’t be in until mid afternoon, and she had to find somewhere to stay until then. She heard a ruckus and turned around startled, and an old man staggered out of the local tavern. There were loud voices and people laughed in incoherent speech, and Daphne walked over to see if someone could offer her assistance.
She tried to peek through the dirty window, but the caked on mud made it impossible to see inside. With her dainty fingers, she rubbed a spot clean and peered into the tiny tavern. She saw women dressed in scanty clothes, their breasts precariously perched atop their corsets, as they roamed the room for love-starved men. She hesitated before she entered, for these people were not her kind. Her youthful innocence was a drastic contrast compared to the loose women within and Daphne found an unoccupied corner of the room and went to sit down.
She concluded that she would wait there until morning, wait until the ships came in. Her parents would never think of looking for her in there, and she settled in for the remainder of the night. She felt someone staring at her and with a curious gaze looked across the room. A man peered at her from the corner of the tavern, his likeness hidden in the darkened shadows.
She felt her skin crawl as he studied her, his lingered gaze intense and never wavered, and she shivered from consternation. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair and laid her head upon the table. She tried not to notice him, tried to pretend that she was not aware of his fascination with her. The old bartender studied her also and staggered over to her table. “Missy, what do you think you’re doing coming in here?”
Daphne swallowed hard and with a shaky voice explained. “I’m waiting for the merchant ships. I am to catch a boat in the morning.”
“That’s a mighty long wait you’ve got missy, you can’t just camp in here for the night, it’s not allowed. If I allow you to stay the night, all the other homeless beggars will want to stay the night as well. This is not a soup kitchen.”
Daphne felt overwhelmed by her circumstances and she burst into tears. “But I have no where else to go.”
“A girl like you should be at home with her ma and pa.”
She shook her head as tears flowed down her cheeks. “I can’t go home sir, because I have run away. My parents have arranged for me to get married to a man that I’ve never met. He will be here in the morning and I must leave before he finds me. Please let me stay in here. This would be the last place my family would happen to look.”
The old man shook his head very sorry. “I wish I could help you missy, but I can’t let you stay in here the night. Unless you plan to buy booze and loose women I will have to ask you to leave.” He walked away from her and went back behind the bar. Daphne gathered her belongings and as she walked toward the door to leave, she could feel the stranger’s eyes bore into her. His gaze followed her and left an uneasy knot inside her stomach as she left the tavern. She walked around the corner and into the alleyway. She knew it was dangerous to stay in the alley after dark, but she didn’t have a choice in the matter, and she approached it with caution. She found a vacant corner and went to lie down, then rested her head upon her small laundry sack and used it as a pillow.
The night air was crisp against her skin and she gathered her shabby cloak about her shoulders. She heard noises up in the distance and with a careful eye studied the dark alley. She saw something moving in the shadows and sat up with a sudden fright. She pulled her bag into her chest and squeezed it against her with nervous anticipation.
“Who’s there?” she called out, her voice a fearful squeak. She heard faint voices in the dark and called out again. “Hello?” Within that instant, Daphne saw two men approach her through the shadows. She screamed and her shrill cries echoed through the alley. They grabbed her and swung her about.
“Look what we have here, Mel. We’ve got a pretty little girl left all alone.” He held on to Daphne’s arms with a firm grip and she could smell the liqueur on his breath. “What do you think we should do with her?” he laughed, his wrinkled face covered with gray dirty stubbles and his clothes filthy with soot.
“Maybe we should take her back to the cabin and take turns with her. When we get bored with her, we can sell her to one of the foreigners that come by our way every month. I bet we can make a handsome profit off of such a fresh peach as her.” The other man was just as repulsive, his greasy black hair plastered to his head, and his clothes grimy and torn. The smell of perspiration permeated the air for they hadn’t bathed for days and Daphne thought she would throw up at any moment from the offensive odor.
Daphne screamed out, her frightened words mingled with sobbing pleas. “Please don’t hurt me, please!” She struggled to free herself but found the men’s grasp much too strong. “I’m begging you not to hurt me!” The men began pulling her by the arms. Daphne struggled with all her mite as the strangers dragged her to their wagon. She saw someone in the shadows and called out with pitiful pleas. “Help me, somebody help me!” One of the men slapped her hard across the cheek to shut her up and Daphne fell limp into his arms. He carried her toward the street and as they approached the wagon, someone called out to them.
“Where do you think you’re going with that girl?” The man from the tavern who had watched Daphne earlier that evening approached them, his tall lean frame clothed in solid black velvet with a long cape draped about his shoulders. His steel blue eyes darted back and forth at the perpetrators and waited for one of the men to answer him.
The older man who carried Daphne responded to his intrusion quite startled. “We’re taking her home, sir.”
“Are you taking her to her parent’s house or to yours?” the stranger questioned, his patience running thin.
“Back to her parent’s house, kind sir.” The old man looked nervous. “She had run away and we thought we would take her back home to her parents.”
The stranger nodded his head in acknowledgement and smiled at the two old men. He didn’t buy the man’s story at all. “So who are her parents or do you even know?” The stranger walked closer to them and stood to his full height. He towered above the older man’s short frame and opened his arms. “Perhaps I should be the one to take her home, kind sir, since you appear confused as to where her parents live.”
The old man trembled, the stranger much bigger than he, and with a shaky voice answered. “I don’t want any trouble. You can have her all to yourself if you like.” He put the girl in his strong arms and the stranger smiled well pleased.
“I would like that very much. I’ve never been fond of sharing.” He held the girl firmly in his arms, her body light as a feather in his grasp, and he turned away from them and carried her to his coach in haste. He approached his horse and carriage and the coachman opened the door for him. He entered inside with Daphne still in his arms. “Take me to my ship so I can see after the girl.”
“Yes captain, right away.” The coachman boarded the carriage and wasted no time in getting his captain to the waterfront where his ship docked for the evening.
Damian considered the small girl in his arms, her body limp and helpless in his powerful embrace, and found the idea of those two old men almost taking advantage of her enraged him. She was much too beautiful and innocent to inherit such a fate. He stroked her head and smoothed the long black tresses away from her delicate face. Damian could see why she would tempt the older men. She was unusually beautiful, her features perfect in every way.
Once they reached the ship at dock Damian carried Daphne aboard and took her to his cabin, then laid her down upon his bunk being careful not to wake her. He stood above her, his arms above the bunk above his head on a high beam, and admired the young girl before him. He smiled to himself at the thought of such a beautiful young girl asleep in his bed. He leaned down to undress her and admired her body as it laid motionless in her unconscious sleep, and with seeking fingers began to remove her ragged clothing.
Her flesh was warm against his fingers, her skin flawless white like a porcelain doll, and he admired her innocent yet sensual beauty. Her raven black tresses lay scattered about her shoulders, the cascade of ringlets in a curly mass about her breasts, and her dainty frame seemed to disappear amongst the mound of covers. He ran his hand down her side and trailed the gentle curve of her waist and well turned hip, and rested his dark hand upon her creamy white thigh.
He leaned down and inhaled her intoxicating scent, the smell of rose water still fresh on her skin. He ran his fingers through her silky hair, the long black tresses begging to be touched, and he ached for her deep within his loins. It had been too long since Damian had satiated his need for physical love with a woman, too long since he had found comfort in the softness of a woman’s femininity. With every ounce of his strength, he backed away from her. His body ached to find release in the warmth of her womanhood, which could not be any more beautiful and perfect. He covered her gently with a blanket and with a quiet stride left the room so his little friend could sleep in peace.
IN THE ARMS OF LOVE is about a young woman who lost her mother to cancer. The day she buried her mom she found out the only home she ever knew would be ripped away from her. But will this yong woman find herself out on the street, or will a valiant savior come to her rescue?
CHAPTER ONE
IT WAS A SUNNY APRIL MORNING AND Christian Vaughn Elliot decided to pay a visit to Brook Haven, his recent investment in Sweetwater, Oklahoma. Being a real estate tycoon from Fort Worth Texas, he rarely let anything stand in his way when buying a good piece of property. He felt lucky to find such a raw piece of land, a hundred acres to be exact, and looked forward to making use of the multiple ponds and streams when developing his future residence.
Sweetwater was a growing town, yet the quaint atmosphere gave the impression of hominess. Christian was going to make this his permanent residence. Christian was born and raised in Fort Worth, his parents and their families raised in Sweetwater, and several years ago they moved back to be close to family, leaving Christian in Fort Worth. When his parents heard he had recently become engaged they were overjoyed. They wanted their son and their future daughter in law to be close to them and convinced Christian to move.
Christian was reluctant at first. His social ties were a strong reinforcement to stay in Texas, but found the pressures of big city life and desired a change. He was in high demand and business was booming better than ever, but Christian was thirty-five years old and he was beginning to feel the need to settle down and start a family. Traveling all over the world buying and selling property, developing land and owning his own construction company, Christian didn’t have time to settle down. His business kept him on the go, flying from state to state, and Christian was beginning to tire of the hectic lifestyle of a high profile job and the politics of the corporate world.
His fiancée, Tara Reid, was a native of Fort Worth Texas and she didn’t look forward to moving away from high society life. Christian met her at a charity ball a year before. Immediately they were attracted to each other, but Christian often wondered if his deep pocketbook had anything to do with her aggressive admiration. She grew up in high society life and it was common knowledge among the elite that he was the most eligible bachelor, as well as the one with the most coveted checking account.
Tara wasn’t the kind of girl who would be attracted to a man that didn’t have monetary substance. Though Christian had his concerns in regards to her intentions, he had developed some feelings for Tara throughout their courtship, though he couldn’t quite say he was madly in love with her. She was unusually beautiful with her sparkling blue eyes and golden blond hair that only complemented her deep sun kissed skin. Tara was a model; at one time being in high demand among the most coveted magazines, for her tall five foot eleven inch frame gave her the look of a golden haired Goddess.
Though Christian was attracted to Tara physically, he didn’t find her over glamorous style that becoming. The fakeness that usually draws some men to women was the very thing that didn’t appeal to Christian. He wanted to feel comfortable in the presence of a woman. He wanted to be himself at all times. Christian wondered if he would ever be able to accept that side of Tara, but surmised that in time he would grow more accustomed to her materialistic self-centered ways.
Christian drove his black Lexus onto the dirt driveway at Brook Haven and parked underneath a flowering red bud. They seemed to be one of many of an assortment of trees that littered the area. He sat in silence for a moment and looked about him with careful observation. He could already imagine his future home before him and made mental notes as to where he would build his house and stables. Opening his car door, he stepped out, shut the door, and began walking across the grassy field. The sunflowers were already in bloom and dandelions were scattered across the landscape, the tiny puffs blowing in the gentle April breeze.
He heard people talking and looked over toward the old house that was the only structure on the land. There were people going inside and he noticed the previous owner Raymond Jacobs walking in and out to welcome his guests. Being curious as to what was going on since the land did belong to him now, Christian walked over to Mr. Jacobs. As he walked onto the porch, the older gentleman approached him with his hand outstretched and a smile on his face.
“Christian Elliot, it’s good to see you again.”
Damian gripped the old man’s hand and looked about him. “Mr. Jacobs, what are all these people doing here?”
The old man opened his arms wide. “I’m having an auction. I know I was supposed to get my affairs in order before you signed the contract, but I ran into some problems at the last minute. I do apologize for the delay.”
Being a reasonable man Christian understood. “What kind of problems are you having? Perhaps I can help.”
Raymond hesitated before answering. “There’s nothing you can do, really. I promise you I’ll be done by the end of the day and this old heap will be yours to tear down.”
Christian sensed the man was hiding something and walked toward the door and peeked inside. The old two-story house did indeed need lots of repair, but structurally it still looked sound. What bothered Christian was the house still appeared to be occupied. Raymond had told him the house had been vacant for years. “Do you mind if I take a look around?”
“I doubt you’ll find anything in here that would be of interest to you, Mr. Elliot. Other than a few antiques there’s really nothing to see.”
Christian got the feeling that Mr. Jacobs was trying to get him to leave and with a small smile he quipped, “I love antiques.” He stepped inside the house and the old man walked close behind him. Christian then went upstairs.
The old man began to be agitated and pleaded, “There’s nothing up there, Mr. Elliot. You’re wasting your time.”
Christian heard someone crying and dismissed Raymond’s pleas. Once at the top of the stairwell he turned the corner and peeked into a small bedroom. He saw a young girl weeping upon her bed. Her long brown hair fell down to her waist with shorter strands grazing her fair shoulders. She brought her hands up to her face to hide her tears. She looked young, her ethereal beauty curled up into a helpless heap on the corner of the bed, and he could hear her pleading desperately.
“Please, don’t let them take my mothers things. It’s all I have to remember her by.”
An older woman in a deep blue business suit stood before her, her face wrinkled with concern for the young woman. “I’m sorry, miss, but the auction is taking place in the next thirty minutes and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. As Mr. Jacobs’s attorney, I have to tell you that you have no rights. Your mother had many debts and Mr. Jacobs has a right to be paid.
“Perhaps Mr. Jacobs will reconsider!”
“No, miss. I’m sorry.”
Christian turned about and pushed Mr. Jacobs into the hallway. He demanded, “As the new owner of this property I have a right to know what’s going on here, Mr. Jacobs. Either you tell me or I’ll reconsider our contract. Who’s that girl and why is she crying?”
Raymond confessed, “The girl’s name is Tiffany Anne Williams and she lives here.”
Christian felt his temper rise and tried to stay calm. He chose his words carefully. “Is this the problem you’ve run into? You told me that this house was vacant and that no one had lived in it for years.”
“Mr. Elliot, this really isn’t any concern of yours.”
Christian turned on his heel and walked into the room where the young girl sat crying. Tiffany heard someone approach her and she looked up. Christian’s hazel eyes bore into her green ones and she felt herself sway. For a moment, she lost her breath, the intimidating man that stood before her left her speechless and she swallowed hard. He was tall, roughly six foot two, and his black wavy hair and deep hazel eyes gave him a mysterious quality. He was muscular and his dark tan chest peeked out from underneath the white silk shirt that was only partially buttoned. The contrast between the two left her mind swimming. Never had she seen a more beautiful man in all her life.
With a shaky voice she whispered, “Who are you?”
Christian found her delicate features pleasing to look at and he had an unusual need to console the young girl in front of him. “My name is Christian Vaughn Elliot. I’m the new landowner.”
Tiffany began to cry again and spat, “Because of you I’m losing my home! How dare you come into my house! Get out!” Her hysterical screams did little to sway him.
Christian didn’t budge. Instead of leaving, he pulled up a chair and straddled it, and sat directly in front of her. He studied the young woman and etched her delicate features inside his mind, and searched her teary green eyes for answers. With warmth he spoke, his voice tender with compassion, “I’m afraid your anger at me is somewhat misplaced. I had no idea anyone lived here.”
Tiffany didn’t understand and her facial expression denoted that. “But Mr. Jacobs said that you wanted me off your property as soon as possible. I asked him if I could speak with you to see if you would give me a little more time, but he said he wouldn’t do it, that you had construction plans and they couldn’t wait.” Tiffany lowered her head and covered her face as she wept.
Mr. Jacobs’s attorney entered the room. “Miss. Williams, the auction is about to begin.”
Tiffany lifted her face to the old woman and begged, “Please, don’t let them take my mothers things!”
Christian didn’t understand what was going on and reached his hand out instinctively to stroke her on the head. Her pitiful cries made his heart ache to console her, but he didn’t know what else to do. He touched her chin and lifted her face to meet his own. “Where is your mother and why are these people taking her things?”
“My mother and I were supposed to move by the end of last week, but my mother was very ill. She had been suffering with cancer for some time now. She died three days ago. I just went to her funeral this morning. Not only did I lose my mother, but I’m losing everything that belongs to her as well. They’re auctioning my mother’s belongings to pay off some of her debts to Mr. Jacobs. After today, I will lose the only home I’ve ever known and I have no where else to go.” Tiffany turned her face away from the stranger and leaned into the bed, then cried into her pillow. Her sobs caused his heart to break for her.
Christian arose from his chair and made his way outside where the auction was getting ready to take place. He approached the attorney and tapped her on the shoulder. She turned to face him and he questioned, “May I have a word with you?”
“Yes, of course.”
“I’m assuming you’re the one that is here to settle the debts for Mr. Jacobs?”
“Yes, I’m the one in charge of it. The debts are owed to Mr. Jacobs for back rent and personal loans.”
“How much money would it take to pay off Miss Williams debts so she wouldn’t lose her home or her mother’s belongings?”
“The debt is ten thousand dollars. However, I doubt we’ll make much of anything from this auction. The girls mother had very little to call her own and most of these items don’t hold much value, except a few of her antiques.”
Christian reached into his pocket and pulled out his checkbook. He wrote out the check and handed it to the woman. She looked down at the check amazed and questioned, “Are you sure you know what you’re doing, Mr. Elliot?”
“Would you do me a favor?”
“Anything to help.”
“Tell Miss Williams that she doesn’t have to move and let her know that none of her mother’s belongings have been sold off.”
“I’ll do that, Mr. Elliot. This is charitable of you. I’m certain that Tiffany will be most grateful for your generosity.”
Christian turned around and walked toward Mr. Jacobs. The old man walked away from him as quickly as possible, but he didn’t get far before Christian’s strong hand grabbed his shoulder. “Mr. Jacobs, we need to talk.”
The old man turned to face him. “I have nothing to say to you, Mr. Elliot.”
“I just wrote a check for ten thousand dollars to pay off that young girl’s debts, most of them being owed to you. Now, what I don’t understand is this urgent need to sell off her things when my purchase of this land made you a very wealthy man.” Christian was agitated and his jaw tightened. “Are you so callous that you couldn’t give this girl time to grieve after her mother’s death? You lied to her and to me, and told her I was the one who wanted her gone. You coward, you disgust me.” He looked down at the old man with scorn and shook his head in disbelief. “Don’t you ever come around my property again, Mr. Jacobs. If you do I’ll have you arrested for trespassing.”
Christian couldn’t stand looking at the old man any longer and strode off to his car. He couldn’t get the image of the innocent young girl out of his mind and he continued to think about her as he left. She was lovely, with her teary green eyes, her slender girlish frame, yet the undeniable loveliness of her soft womanly curves. How he wanted to embrace her, to hold her in the safety of his arms and protect her from harm. He had never felt the need to coddle a woman before, never yearned to nurture and protect such a delicate creature as herself in all his life. He found the very thought of her unnerving and pushed her out of his mind.
***
A few days had gone by since Tiffany encountered the handsome Mr. Elliot. She walked to the kitchen to make her a cup of hot tea. She found her mind wandered to the larger than life man who rescued her from total devastation. Her heart still ached from the recent loss of her mother and tears came to her eyes as she went to sit down at the small kitchen dinette. She held the hot mug between her shaky fingers and sipped the heavily creamed brew. The generosity of this man left her heart tender, for like a white knight he came to her rescue and just as quick disappeared.
Tiffany wanted to repay him for his kindness, but she knew that with her limited income working at the coffee shop in town that it would take the rest of her life to pay back such a debt. Her mother’s funeral was expensive and what little they did have in savings went to medicines. Tiffany had spent the last three years taking care of her mother. Her father died when she was just five years old, a factory accident at the chicken plant taking his life, and leaving her young mother to fend for them both in poverty.
Tiffany finished her tea and walked back upstairs. She was determined to thank this man personally and let him know what his generosity meant to her, and to apologize to him for her hysterical outbursts. He wasn’t responsible for what happened. Yet she was quick to blame him for it. She should have known better to trust Mr. Jacobs. He had been dishonest many times in the past and Tiffany often wondered if her mother’s debts to him embellished on his part.
Her stomach quivered at the thought of seeing Mr. Elliot again and she became lightheaded. Tiffany had never dated, her only experience with a boy was Derrick Longstein, a boy she knew her freshman year and they went to the school dance together. Nothing ever serious happened between them, besides an innocent peck she gave him on the cheek when he took her home. She was never popular in school and tended to hang around the quiet students so she could avoid ridicule over her impoverished lifestyle. Tiffany had never felt comfortable being forthright with men and seeing Mr. Elliot made her more than a little nervous.
Tiffany fixed her long brown hair and swept it up into a feminine coif that showed off her slender neck. Tiny wisps of hair fell about her face and she twirled the strands with her fingers so little curls would form. She put on a light yellow sundress that hung from two slender straps about her shoulders. A satin yellow ribbon weaved through the eyelets underneath her breasts and she tied it into a tiny bow. The hem reached the tops of her knees and she wore sandals that had tiny spring flowers on top.
Tiffany didn’t have much to wear. The apparel in her wardrobe was items she had purchased at the local Care and Share, an organization that helps the needy in the community. They knew her mother well, for that is where her mother had always shopped for her ever since she was a baby. Tiffany finished off her look with an antique choker that belonged to her mother. The pink velvet fit snug against her skin as the small cameo dangled below it. It was the only valuable piece of jewelry her mother owned. Its eternal worth was by far the memories of it gracing her mother’s neck.
Although her wardrobe wasn’t an expensive one, Tiffany always looked lovely. Her simple style of peasant clothes gave her a whimsical charm. Her attractiveness came from the naturalness of her complexion and the rosy hue that graced her lips and cheeks. Tiffany picked up her purse and walked outside to her car. Her lime-green seventy-one Volkswagen bug parked under a nearby tree. As she sat down in the driver’s seat, Tiffany buckled up. She was thankful and grateful that she was able to keep her old bug.
Tiffany’s drive wasn’t far from her home, four miles at the most. She appreciated Mr. Jacobs’s attorney, Beth Adams, for giving her Mr. Elliot’s address and phone number off of his check. Otherwise, she wouldn’t know how to contact him and let him know how much his generosity meant to her. Though he was a fine dressed man, Tiffany didn’t get the impression he was overly wealthy and worried that his charity toward her put him in a financial strain. The thought of burdening someone else with her financial problems troubled her and she continued to think of a way to reimburse Mr. Elliot.
Pulling into a paved driveway, Tiffany marveled at the large estate that was before her. All the time she had lived in Brook Haven she had never once drove into the Briarwood community. Tiffany always felt that the wealthy people who lived there would look down on her as so many other people did, because she was poor. Sweetwater was an elite community and that was one of the reasons Mr. Jacobs wanted Tiffany and her mother Rebecca to move. He knew their old shack brought down the property value and with the right buyer, he could come into a large chunk of change. She marveled at how money could make people grow heartless, the way Raymond Jacobs had become, and a twinge of discomfort settled in her stomach as she parked in the driveway.
Tiffany hadn’t called to inform Mr. Elliot she was to arrive, her phone shut off due to nonpayment, and worried he would find her intrusion an unwelcome one. Perhaps she would be a reminder of a financial transaction he regretted making. She hesitated before getting out of her car. Then mustering every bit of courage she had she exited the vehicle, her legs wobbly as she stood in front of the mansion before her.
She approached the front door and rung the doorbell. Her heart beat faster the longer she stood there. She heard someone approach the double doors and an older Hispanic woman dressed in a black and white maid’s uniform looked at her with a smile.
“May I help you miss?”
“Yes, I’m looking for Mr. Elliot. Is he at home?”
“Mr. Elliot is indeed in, but he’s in the back at the pool taking a swim. Come with me and I’ll take you to him.”
“Wait…If he’s busy I can come back another time.” Tiffany felt uncomfortable with the idea of seeing his half-naked body poolside. He left her breathless fully clothed. There was no telling what kind of affect he would have on her in a bathing suit.
“Oh he’s not busy. Come with me and I’ll take you to him.”
The old Hispanic woman motioned for her to enter and Tiffany was at once in awe of her surroundings. As the maid escorted her through the house, Tiffany admired the expensive furnishings and marveled at the detailed carvings in the wood throughout the house. They reached the patio doors and the maid opened them and motioned for her to go outside.
“He’s swimming. You can go to him now.”
Tiffany walked with a slow stride. Her heart beat anxiously and she felt she would lose her breath. Mr. Elliot didn’t know she watched him and she neared the pool and managed to squeak out his name. “Mr. Elliot, may I have a word with you?”
Christian immediately recognized her voice. How could he forget? He turned about and looked in her direction. She was as beautiful as he had remembered her, only this time she hadn’t been crying. He swam back to her side of the pool, his massive strokes making his muscles bulge with every movement, and Tiffany ached to touch them just once with her shaky fingers. He exited the pool and walked languidly toward her as if he were a Greek God. His tall six foot two inch frame was lean and strong.
Tiffany thought she would faint as he neared her. His dripping wet body was nearly naked in his tiny black bikini bottom that left nothing to the imagination. It was obvious that he was very confident with his body, not seeming the bit uncomfortable with his maleness, and Tiffany surmised that this god like man could no way be a native to Sweetwater. In all her life, she had never seen a man such as him. He was magical, appearing out of nowhere, just like the day he became her knight in shinning armor, the day he rescued her from complete devastation.
Christian looked down at her and smiled. He didn’t realize how small in stature his little friend was. The day he seen her she was curled up balling at the end of her bed. “What do I owe this unexpected pleasure?” His voice was smooth as his warm gaze trailed up and down her slender frame. She was indeed dainty, but she appeared even more fragile standing next to him.
He towered over her, her short five foot two inch frame left her feeling vulnerable in his presence, and with a shaky stance, she took a step back. Her voice trembled as she spoke, “I wanted to thank you for what you did and to apologize for accusing you of wrongdoing. I never have to tell you how much your generosity meant to me. By the time I found out you had already left.”
Christian took a few steps toward her, reached over, and grabbed a towel off the nearby table. With a gentle smile he spoke, “It was my pleasure. It’s not every day I get to rescue a beautiful damsel in distress. I take it everything’s better now?”
That was the first time Tiffany had ever heard anyone say she was beautiful and her face went pinkish in color. “Yes, sir, everything is much better. Thanks to you.”
He could tell he embarrassed her and could read her adoring green eyes as she looked at him. She had a hard time keeping eye contact, her lashes fluttering down every few moments to break contact with his. Christian was a master at reading women. His own good looks affording him the luxury of having women fall all over him wherever he went. Because of that, he became well acquainted with the charms of the opposite sex. However, Tiffany was different. There was an innocent quality to her gaze. It left him fascinated. Motioning to the table he asked, “Would you care to sit down?”
He broke her concentration from his bulging muscles in his arms and chest. Tiffany shook herself from the entranced gaze that left her speechless. “Oh no, I didn’t want to intrude.”
“But you wouldn’t be intruding. I’m inviting you to sit with me and have a drink. I’m going to have a beer. Would you care for anything?” He pulled the chair out for her and not wishing to argue with him over the matter, Tiffany sat down. He took a seat beside her and motioned for Maria his maid to come to him.
“Yes, Senor Christian.”
“Would you bring me a beer please?” Christian looked over at Tiffany and said with soft laughter in his voice. “I would ask you if you’d like a beer, but I’m for certain you’re not old enough to drink yet. The last thing I would want is to serve alcohol to a minor.”
Tiffany blushed. “You’re right, I am.”
“And how old might you be, Miss Tiffany?”
“I’m twenty.”
Christian was having less than innocent thoughts about his houseguest. The idea that she was only twenty years old made him feel a little uncomfortable with his attraction for her. “Perhaps you would like a Shirley Temple then?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know what that is.” Tiffany smiled for the first time and a warm glow seemed to surround her features like a veil.
Her innocent smile overwhelmed him and he turned to Maria who was waiting patiently for her order. “Bring a Shirley Temple for the lady, please.”
“Yes, Senor Christian.”
He turned his gaze back to the young woman who sat beside him. “May I call you Tiffany?”
“Yes, of course.”
“You can call me Christian.”
“I came to see you for several reasons today. One was to thank you for what you did for me and the other was to discuss reimbursing you.”
Maria sat the drinks down before them and he took a long drink of beer. He sat the glass back down and shook his head. “We have nothing to discuss on that subject. Your debts with your creditors have been cleared and in no way do I require reimbursement.”
Reaching into her purse Tiffany pulled out an envelope full of money and she sat it in front of him. “But I just got paid and I wanted to make my first installment on the debt I owe you. I know it’s not much but I assure you I can pay you back in time.”
In all of Christian’s years, he had never once had a woman offer him money to reimburse the price of a gift. He was a gentleman and a gentleman didn’t take money from women, they gave money to women. “Perhaps you didn’t hear me earlier but I said we had nothing to discuss.” He pushed the envelope back over to her and Tiffany became frustrated.
“Listen, I really appreciate what you did for me but I just don’t feel comfortable knowing you spent over ten thousand dollars to pay off my debts. I want to pay you back, please.” She handed him the envelope but Christian never attempted to take it, his hazel eyes digging deep into her timid ones. She then placed it in front of him and arose from her chair ready to leave.
Christian reached his hand out and grabbed her arm, then gently pulled her back down to her seat. Though his touch was tender, there was no denying the power in his grasp. “Don’t go. We can discuss this further if you wish.” The heat from his fingers sent chills up Tiffany’s spine and she shivered. Christian lowered his hand from her arm. “Are you cold? If you are we can go inside.”
His concern made her melt even further for him and she stuttered. “I...I’m fine, really.”
“Now, you want to talk about reimbursement.” He handed the envelope back to her and explained, “Until my home at Brook Haven is completed I’ll be living here. I won’t be around to keep an eye on my property as much as I would like and there will be many materials left about while it’s under construction. You could reimburse me by keeping an eye on things while you’re at home.”
“How is keeping an eye on things a payment for what I owe you? Wouldn’t you rather have money?” Tiffany asked confused.
“Miss Tiffany, look around you, darling. Do I look like I’m hurting financially? The measly ten thousand dollars I spent to help you out was nothing to me. I give ten times as much as that to various charities throughout the year. Whether I give money to the American Cancer Society or a neighbor in need, it’s still charity. It’s a tax right off and it makes me happy to do it.”
Tiffany lowered her head and seemed distressed, her gentle features burdened with a wrinkled brow. “So that’s what I am, charity?” Tiffany’s heart ached from his reference to her as charity, although in reality that’s exactly what it was. It was an act of kindness from a complete stranger out of the goodness of his heart. A part of her wished his act of kindness were of a far more personal nature. She had on many occasions throughout her life wished that a handsome knight would come rescue her from all her troubles, a man who would love her as she was, and there was this hopeful part of her that wished he were her knight. However, Tiffany realized that this mans kindness was not because of an interest in her, but because he was just genuinely a good person.
Christian studied her expression. Her apparent distress over the matter concerned him. “I’m sorry if the word charity upsets you. I didn’t mean anything derogatory by it. I’ve been known to do things as equally generous for others when the opportunity presents itself. It’s one way I can give back for having such a blessed life. I hope you can forgive me if that in any way offends you.” Christian didn’t want his new friend to be wounded by his perception of the matter.
Tiffany smiled and felt somewhat let down that what he done for her he had done for others. She wanted to be special. Her lowered gaze lifted to meet his own. She wanted to be different, to be special to this man above other men, but realized he was probably a lot of women’s knight in shinning armor. “I will always be grateful to you, Mr. Elliot. I will do as you wish and watch over your property while it’s under construction. It’s the least I can do.” Tiffany arose from her chair and stuck the envelope back in her purse. The reality of the matter was that she didn’t really have any extra money to give him. It was all she had left after paying her bills to buy a little food. Christian got up as well and wrapped a black terry cloth robe about him. He left the robe unfastened and his lean build exposed. “I’ll walk you out.” He pressed his hand to the small of her back and Tiffany shivered again. The very presence of his large hand between her shoulder blades made her feel vulnerable in his presence. He could crush her if he wanted too. His gladiator type body was like nothing she had ever seen before. It would not be easy to forget his handsome face and tone physique, for there had never been one such as him.
Christian walked her to her car and opened the door for her. Tiffany turned to face him and looked at him one last time. She knew her instant infatuation with this mysterious man was all it would ever be, an infatuation. She was not his kind. His life of money and power was foreign to her and a painful ache pierced her heart. “Thank you again, Mr. Elliot.” She turned to get into her car and Christian wondered why she had looked at him with such an intensely sad expression. He sensed something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.
“You’re welcome, Miss Tiffany.” He shut the door for her and watched her drive away. He wished she would have stayed longer and wished he were free to know her better.
PRINCE OF PASSION is a contemporary romance novel about a girl moving away from the only home she has ever know, a Catholic orphanage. She finds a job working at Ashton Estates, the home of a well known prince, and finds herself tempted of the very thing she was taught against by the orphanage nuns. Will she be able to keep her restraint, or will her heart give in to the prince of passion?
CHAPTER ONE
IT WAS A CRISP SEPTEMBER MORNING at Ashton Estates. The grounds had been covered with a fluffy layer of snow and the fireplaces were lit to take out the morning chill. Fresh cinnamon rolls were baking in the oven and cappuccino was brewing for the master of the house.
“Good morning, Martha. Are you making your famous cinnamon rolls that I love so much?” Michael came over and pecked the grayed haired woman on the cheek. His smile tender with affection for the older woman he had known since childhood.
“I’m suppose to be serving you breakfast in bed. That is what you pay me for isn’t it?” She gave him a playful grin and patted him on the cheek.
“Under normal circumstances that would be acceptable, but since I was busy entertaining last night I didn’t think it proper to have you come up to my room. My guest hasn’t left yet and I didn’t wish to disturb her.” His eyes gleamed mischievously as Martha rolled hers.
“I’m beginning to lose count of all your guests.”
“I only have a few women that I see on a regular basis and that is with an understanding that nothing serious is happening. I just don’t have time to get emotionally involved, you know that.” They looked at each other for a moment before Rachel, his secretary, popped her head through the swinging kitchen doors.
“Michael I’ve been looking for you. I just wanted to remind you that Saint Mary’s Orphanage will be sending over one of their graduates for an interview this morning. They also wanted to thank you again for your generous contribution. If you’re too busy I can have Frank do the interview.” She reached for a fresh cinnamon roll and poured herself a cup of java.
“Go ahead and have Frank do it. I have a meeting at ten o’clock this morning.”
“Oh, before I forget. Your guest left a little while ago and she wanted me to tell you thank you.” Rachel giggled to herself as she took a big bite of her roll. Martha gave Michael that look he knew all too well.
“Why do the two of you always gang up on me? I need more testosterone in this house.” He walked out of the kitchen shaking his head.
Later that morning Frank, Michael’s assistant, was working on profit statistics when he heard a knock on his office door. “Come in.” A young woman walked toward him.
“My name is Sarah Love and I’m here to apply for a job. The orphanage sent me over.”
“Please sit down and tell me about yourself.” Frank studied the young woman and considered what position would best suit her there at the estates.
“I’ve been at Saint Mary’s all my life and I just graduated not long ago. I’ve been working in the office for several years filing and answering phones.”
“How old are you, Sarah?” Frank studied the young woman, who had an angelic face that belied her age, and found that he appreciated her simple yet graceful beauty.
“I just turned eighteen.” Nervously she stroked a few stray hairs behind her left ear.
The older man smiled at her as he tapped his pen a few times against his desk. He questioned secretly whether it would be wise to have such a young vulnerable girl working with the prince. Michael was known for his womanizing skills and Frank worried that sweet Sarah would be at a disadvantage. “So what position are you interested in?”
“At Saint Mary’s I was Sister Agatha’s personal assistant for three years. She said I would do well to apply for that position since I have experience in that area. Is that position still open?”
“Actually it is still available. From looking at your records all the sisters thought very highly of you.” Frank thought for a moment and wondered if she would be able to handle the job. “At the orphanage you were mainly surrounded by females am I correct?”
“Yes, sir. We were an all girl orphanage.”
“So you have little experience dealing with men?”
“I’m afraid I have no experience dealing with men. Everyone at the orphanage was female. I hope that won’t be a problem?” Sarah looked worried that he may not choose her for the job and a look of disappointment washed over her delicate features. She wanted so much to get out of the orphanage and begin a new life.
Frank saw her disappointment and eased her concerns. “I’m just trying to ascertain if you would be comfortable in a male oriented atmosphere. If you’ve never been around men you might find it difficult communicating with them on a daily basis. Things can get pretty stressful around here and the men can be, lets just say, rather difficult to deal with.” Frank chuckled as he tapped his pen against the table again.
Sarah considered his statement and gave him a playful smile. “You’re a man and I’m not having trouble communicating with you am I?”
Frank couldn’t help but be charmed by her. “No, you don’t seem to have a problem with it at all. Would you be able to move in tomorrow?”
Sarah responded with enthusiasm, “That’s not a problem. I’ll go home and pack right away.” Frank got up and walked her to the door. Sarah then turned to face him, her eyes wide and bright. “Can I see my room? I’ve never had one all to myself before.” She beamed with happiness at the notion she’d have her own bedroom. At the orphanage she’d always had to bed down with the other girls. There was no such thing as privacy where she was from.
“Of course you can. Follow me.”
After Frank showed Sarah to her room he went back to his office to work on some unfinished business, but he couldn’t help but wonder what Prince Michael would think about Sarah, his new personal assistant. In the past only male assistants were hired to tend to Michael’s needs. Frank began to question his decision to hire Sarah. Michael would no doubt find the young woman appealing physically, but would he be able to control his urges when faced with such a sweet temptation?
