Copyright © 2006 Canice Brown-Porter
All rights reserved, Freya's Bower.
By reading this excerpt, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are younger than 18 years old, you must exit this site at once.
She lay motionless on the wet ground to gather her wits before sitting up. Aubrianna raised her hand and stared at the two skeleton keys on a simple silver ring. Strange. Who carries skeleton keys? She slipped the key ring onto her index finger and struggled amidst her many layers of petticoats to stand. She straightened and glanced around her. Total silence. How odd, she mused. Even the birds and butterflies have disappeared? Sunlight vanished, and she looked skyward. Dark, angry clouds rolled across the sky. A loud crash of thunder startled her, and she jumped. Light rain pelted her face. Great! I'll be soaked by the time I reach the house.
Aubrianna cast a quick glance down to her feet while retracing her footsteps along the familiar path. Fog crept along the ground, swirling and wrapping its damp blanket around her. She quickened her pace. The fog thickened and raced ahead, creating an opaque gray wall.
"Crazy weather," she mumbled, turning a sharp corner. Her hand stretched out in front of her, she blindly found her way.
She stepped headlong into a solid, dark mass. A scream emanated from deep in her throat when two strong hands gripped her shoulders to steady her. A sharp tingle of awareness radiated down to the knot forming in her stomach.
"Who are you? What are you doing here?" A deep baritone voice soothed her frayed nerves, easing the tension in her body.
"I should ask you the same, sir." She steadied herself and wiggled her way out of his grasp. "We are closed for the day. Now, move out of my way. I'm getting soaked to the skin."
"Allow me." His fingers curled around her forearm and pulled her resisting body behind him. She struggled to free herself from the tall masculine figure.
Who the hell does he think he is?
* * *
Copyright © 2006 Canice Brown-Porter
All rights reserved, Freya's Bower.
Keane knew she was near before he lifted his eyes to see her enter. She strolled into the dining room, donned in a pale green muslin day dress. A single matching ribbon tied around her head. Her pale hair framed her face in a golden mane.
"Good morning, Bri," he said, rising from his chair at the table. Her lithe body moved in graceful, regal strides. "I trust you slept well."
She flashed a brilliant white smile, her eyes sparkling. "Quite well, Keane. And you?"
He chuckled. "Very well."
She certainly was not prone to protocol as young ladies were in present time. Not even a pale blush had colored her cheeks at his brazen inquiry. He seated himself again once she sat to his right.
"What would you like for breakfast?"
"Fruit and coffee will be fine."
Keane motioned for the servant to prepare her plate.
"What would you like to do today?" he asked once her plate had been set on the table before her.
"I'd love to take you to the maze..."