The Cotton Lass & other stories, page 9
If he was setting her up for a naughty week, he was in for trouble. ‘I think you’d be better with another reporter.’
He was still smiling at her, so she decided it was best to be blunt. ‘I don’t go to bed to get my stories. Not with anyone.’
His smile faded. ‘Very flattering. I don’t have to bribe women into my bed, thank you very much. Are you always so mistrustful?’
‘Yes. I’d like to check with Steve first.’ She pulled out her mobile phone and looked at him.
He waved one hand. ‘Be my guest.’
Steve made it very plain that this was a scoop of major proportions and that if she did anything – anything at all – to spoil it, she would be looking for another job.
She put the phone away in her bag. ‘Very well, Mr Gilson. Give me your address, tell me what time you want me to turn up in the morning and I’ll be there.’
‘It’s a little more complicated than that, I’m afraid.’
‘Complicated? What do you mean, complicated?’
‘Well, I have an appointment in Western Australia tomorrow, which necessitates us flying out from Sydney this afternoon. All right with you?’
‘Flying?’
He raised one eyebrow. ‘Anything wrong with that?’
She gulped. ‘No, of course not.’ Which was a lie. She hated flying.
‘Look, I promise to be on my best behaviour. No more jumping to conclusions about you. As long as you don’t make a habit of throwing yourself into the arms of strange men in shopping centres, that is?’
She had to smile. And she had to take the offer. ‘Very well. Just let me go home and pack my things.’
‘We’ll drive you there on the way to the airport. My things are in the boot already.’
Of all the embarrassments, he insisted on coming up with her to the tiny studio flat. Then he washed the dishes while she packed. Her kitchen had never looked so tidy.
At the airport, she found they’d be flying in a private jet. Which was marginally better. But she still had to force her stiff legs to walk up into the plane.
She let a stewardess settle her and tried to look nonchalant. But it was no use. As the engines began to roar, she gulped and clutched the arms of her seat.
A warm hand covered hers. ‘Not comfortable flying, Nell?’
‘No.’ She clutched his hand gratefully and closed her eyes. If she didn’t look out of the windows, if she didn’t see them taking off, she could manage – just – to control her fear.
Once the plane was airborne, she let out a breath in a whoosh. ‘Thank goodness that’s over. And … um, thank you for holding my hand.’
She tried to let go, but he held on to her hand tightly. She found it hard to breathe. And the way he was looking at her said he was affected too.
He gave her one of his gorgeous rueful smiles. ‘That’s why I wanted you to do this assignment. I couldn’t stop thinking about you and our mock kiss in the shopping centre. Only it didn’t feel like a mock kiss.’
She shoved his hand away. ‘You’re just sweet-talking me.’
‘I’m telling the simple truth. Look, if I promise not to touch you again without your permission, could we just see whether our mutual attraction leads anywhere?’
She looked at him doubtfully. Either he was the best actor on the planet or he was sincere. But how could a rich guy like him fancy someone like her, who was always tripping over her own feet or getting into trouble?
‘Steve thinks well of you – and no, I didn’t ask him directly. He says you’re not the most skilful journalist but you have a good heart.’
‘Oh.’
‘Will you give me a chance, Nell? Will you play along with my hunch that we’re meant for each other?’
What could she say but yes?
But she also intended to prove that she was a damned good journalist and make Steve eat his words. Talking of eating, the stewardess was holding out a tray of hors d’oeuvres. She took a few to put her on till she got a proper meal.
He chuckled.
She had to laugh at herself.
And suddenly the world seemed brighter and she didn’t even mind flying.
The Lady of Silverbrae
Introduction
This is one of my favourite short stories of all, if not THE favourite. It was written one Christmas, when I was just starting the tradition I have of giving myself a few days off my normal writing to do something different for pleasure – a busman’s holiday, but I love it.
It’s very different from the sort of story I write most of the time. It was first written under my Shannah Jay pen name. I wrote fantasy novels for a while as ‘Shannah’ and they’re still for sale as ebooks. I loved writing them and creating whole worlds out of my imagination. But the historical stories were selling better, making more money, so I pursued that avenue. And anyway, I love writing them too.
Writing is, as I’ve said in another of these preambles, a business. Should it be? I don’t know. People have to make a living, after all. And if you write purely for yourself, you’re missing the joy of giving other people pleasure. I love putting pleasure into a world where there’s increasing violence and mayhem.
Anyway, back to this story: it’s best described as a spoof fairy tale for adults, written with tongue deeply embedded in cheek. I did it for sheer fun one Christmas. I chuckled as I wrote – and I chuckled all over again recently as I polished and extended the story for this collection.
I’ve always thought ‘The Lady of Silverbrae’ would make a good Walt Disney movie. I certainly ‘saw’ it with that sort of animation as I wrote it. I’m a very visual writer, and I always ‘see’ the scenes my characters are living in very clearly as I write.
I hope you enjoy reading it. It is definitely not meant to be taken seriously.
The Lady of Silverbrae
Through the eyes of his magical shadow self, the wizard watched Annora ride through the forest on the most beautiful white mare he’d ever seen. He had heard so much about the young woman and was intrigued to find her even more beautiful than they said. If he could have gone to her family’s castle, he’d have seen her sooner. But he could only go there by invitation. Now that he had seen her, he knew what he must do.
She was demurely clad in a flowing blue velvet cloak over a white silk gown with a high neckline and long sleeves. But she didn’t look demure, because the gown clung to her body so closely it showed her delightful womanly curves. Her slender waist was encircled by a sword belt bearing a weapon in a gilded leather scabbard. Her skirts were carefully draped to hide her legs, but rumour said they were exquisite too.
Gavyn took a deep breath and told himself to concentrate. But it was hard to because a strand of silver-blonde hair escaped from her filmy white veil at that moment and she brushed it away impatiently with one slender fingertip.
Her eyes were glorious, of a vivid green in colour. Young men wrote poems to those eyes. Sickly stuff, that poetry. It could never do the real thing justice.
As he watched, it seemed as if she looked straight at his shadow self and knew he was watching her. No, she couldn’t have known. No one could penetrate his invisibility spell.
Behind her rode a huge ox of a fellow, completely hairless, dressed in studded leather and carrying several weapons. No jewels on his scabbard, only deep gouges from previous battles.
Gavyn’s shadow moved along beside them, eavesdropping when they spoke, which wasn’t often.
‘Beautiful countryside, eh, Otho?’ she commented. ‘I don’t know why my father was so insistent that I keep away from Upperlea.’
‘This forest is dangerous for the Silverbrae family. You should have let me fetch the mage to you.’
The wizard snapped his fingers in scorn. As if anyone could have coerced him to do that!
Her voice was low and musical. ‘He wouldn’t have come at your bidding, Otho. I’m the only one left with the right to compel him, now my father’s dead.’
She spurred the mare on, to hide the tears that welled in her glorious eyes.
Was she really weeping at the loss of her father? It showed a proper respect, but he’d been a nasty, suspicious fellow. Gavyn knew that from personal experience.
Rumour said Annora Silverbrae was shrewd and heartless, not soft and womanly in nature as she seemed to him. It would be interesting to find out where the truth lay.
He’d let her reach his home before he did anything.
He brought his shadow self back and dispelled it with a certain phrase repeated thrice, before going to stand by a window that overlooked the entrance. He wanted to watch her enter his domain.
He was, he admitted reluctantly to himself, intrigued by Annora, far more intrigued than he’d expected to be. Who would not be drawn by such exquisite beauty? This quest he’d set himself would be a pleasure to pursue.
Annora reined in her mare just inside the gateway and stared round. The habitation was picturesque, not exactly a castle but not a humble dwelling by anyone’s standards. Scarlet thornflowers climbed its aged stone walls. These plants had the longest thorns and the most vivid flower cups she’d ever seen. Heavenspur thrust up blue spears in shady corners, its stems caressed by an abundance of misty green fronds.
An elderly hound lying across the threshold raised one eyebrow at them, uttered several deep coughing barks, and continued to stare at the visitors.
As Otho dismounted, the hound stood up abruptly, waist-high and muscular. It raised its head and howled, a long pulsating challenge that echoed round the courtyard.
But still, no one came to the door to greet the visitors.
‘Ho there!’ roared Otho, looking annoyed at this slight to his mistress. ‘Attend your door, Wizard! You have company.’
The wizard sent his voice echoing round the visitors. ‘Go away or I’ll change you into a frog.’ In fact, he almost did that to the man-at-arms to see how she’d react.
‘Knock again!’ ordered Annora, fingers tapping impatiently on her scabbard.
Otho’s fist crashed against the door several times. ‘We’re not going away! Come out, damn you!’
The wizard sighed. Well, perhaps it was time. But he’d been enjoying watching her, he had to admit.
He flung the door back on its hinges and strode out, sending Otho staggering back to the side with one touch. He ignored the man and concentrated on the woman, wanting to see her reaction to him.
He kept himself in good trim, if he said so himself. He was tall and well-muscled. A fine figure of a man, his mirror always told him. Today he’d chosen to wear a pair of tight black breeches, which left little to the imagination, and a sleeveless leather jerkin over a full-sleeved white shirt, open at the neck.
His hair was dark as midnight, with one silver streak along the right temple. It fell back from a peak and was tied back loosely at his neck by a leather thong.
Ah, thank goodness! He was having his usual effect, making this woman stare at him as others did. He hadn’t been quite sure about that. She was, after all, a Silverbrae, if not an outright enemy, definitely not a friend. And that could cloud your vision.
‘Don’t you know it’s dangerous to disturb a wizard at work?’ he demanded, posing carefully at the top of the stone steps to accentuate all his best points.
Annora was betrayed into a gulp and was immediately annoyed with herself. She’d never even seen a wizard before, because they were banned entirely from Silverbrae. She could see why now. Oh my, yes!
Wizards, her father had always said, were nothing but trouble. And they consorted with unicorns, which were even more trouble. Jasper Silverbrae wasn’t breeding either his mares or his daughter to such creatures.
As Gavyn of the Forest walked slowly to the top of the stone steps and stopped there, Annora’s breath caught in her throat and a pang of longing shot through her belly. In her experience, men like this were only to be found in dreams. The man her council wanted her to marry was a spindly fellow, given to reciting bad poetry to her at the drop of a hat – poetry so appallingly bad that she’d been hard put not to laugh.
The wizard scowled across at her from the same level as she was on her horse. ‘You must be a Silverbrae. No one else has hair that colour. What do you want here?’
She took a deep breath and followed her plan, though it was an effort to appear unmoved.
Swinging her leg across the saddle, she deliberately allowed her skirt to ride up and display the creamy flesh of her legs. She saw his eyes linger on them and regained some of her confidence. Look your fill, Wizard, she thought. Take the bait I’m offering.
Slowly, slowly, she slid down from her horse and took up the pose she’d practised in front of her mirror.
‘I have come here today to claim your help,’ she said, in as sweet a voice as ever sang. She had spent even more time practising that sweet tone, and very hard it was to get it just so.
Gavyn was surprised by how her voice affected him. It took a huge effort to tear his eyes from the tender swell of her bosom. Then a sudden pang of conscience struck him, because she was still so young. ‘Lady, I wish you personally no harm – no red-blooded man ever would – but you would be wise to ride on or I cannot be answerable for my actions.’
‘I’m not leaving till I’ve got what I came for. You owe my father one favour and I’m here to claim it this very day.’
Well, he’d tried to do the decent thing.
He leant against the doorpost, allowing his expression to show only boredom. But as his eyes flickered over her body, breath whistled softly into his mouth. Something about her appealed to him more than any other woman ever had. Not only was she lovely, but she was spirited too. He had never liked meek women. And that long fall of silver hair – ah, how it gleamed in the sunlight, making him itch to run his fingers through it.
‘I owe the favour to your father, not to you.’
‘My father’s dead. I’m the only Silverbrae left. Therefore I require and demand your help.’
He flicked an imaginary speck off his sleeve. ‘You could find a hundred swordsmen willing to lay down their lives for you, lady. Why come to me? I’m not the most skilful wielder of swords.’
‘I can defend myself against mortal flesh.’ She patted the hilt of her sword. ‘But I can’t fight against magic.’
‘You’re that good a swordswoman?’ he mocked. ‘Please don’t take me for a fool, lady! A woman hasn’t the strength to best a man.’
She moved forward up the steps to stare him in the eye. She was tall for a woman. He liked that about her, too.
‘Will you keep your family’s promise and answer Silverbrae’s need, Gavyn of the Forest, or will you break your word? My father saved your father’s life once.’
He sighed. ‘I suppose I do owe you something, then. But I’m right in the middle of a fascinating new spell to summon wood nymphs. Very friendly creatures, wood nymphs.’
With a quick wave of his fingertips he made sure Annora could feel his breath on her cheek, and that it burnt her like a lover’s kiss. She took an involuntary step backwards, staring at him, breathing rather more quickly than before.
Gavyn let the silence lie heavily in the air between them before continuing. ‘A man can get lonely sometimes, you see. And wood nymphs can be delightfully playful.’
He hid a smile as he saw his visitor’s tongue flick across lips gone suddenly dry. ‘Well, lady, tell me your need quickly. I’m a busy man.’
‘We have ogre trouble at Castle Silverbrae.’
‘Get your knights to kill the damned thing. Ogres aren’t that hard to dispose of. It’ll only cost you a knight or two.’
‘At first there were several ogres. And we did kill them. How do you think my father lost his life? But after we’d driven them away, a black ogre came in their place.’
‘Aaah. Now, that is a problem. It’s a long time since I’ve dealt with a black ogre. It might be … interesting.’
‘So you’ll help us?’
He waited, watching her lean forward slightly, so eager for the answer. ‘Well …’
‘Well, what?’
‘I’ll come and rid you of it.’
He put his fingers to his mouth and whistled. Out of the woods came his unicorn, a tall white stallion with a wicked glint in its eyes and a huge jutting horn on its head, as well as the usual masculine appurtenances below. It took one look at the mare and trotted over to nuzzle her.
The mare stood still, trembling slightly.
‘I’m not having that – that thing in my castle, upsetting everyone. Look at what he’s doing to my mare.’
‘He’s just greeting her. Perssim’s a tame unicorn, very polite with other steeds,’ Gavyn said mildly.
‘I’ve heard the tales. No unicorn is that tame. And no mare is safe from them.’
‘He doesn’t get the urge to mate all the time, you know, just every now and then.’
‘That’s still too often for me.’
Gavyn folded his arms. ‘Either I ride my unicorn to your castle or I don’t come.’
Annora lowered her lashes to cover the triumph in her eyes. ‘Well, in that case I’ll have to put up with him. But you’d better keep him away from my mares while you’re there. I want no unicorn blood tainting my breeding stock.’
‘He’s not in the mood for an orgy at the moment. You’d notice it if he was.’
She couldn’t help blushing at that. She had, after all, been raised a lady.
‘But I have to warn you that if Perssim grows hungry for one of your mares, not even I will be able to stop him satisfying that hunger.’
The way the wizard’s gaze ran up and down her body made heat run through her.
‘And … like master, like man,’ he murmured softly.
She had to make a huge effort to speak briskly. ‘Well, you’ll both starve in my castle, then. Only my husband will ever touch my body!’
He didn’t allow himself to smile. He didn’t want to frighten her off. ‘Let’s go, then.’
She went back to mount her mare.
