Blogging Elsewhere: Eleanor Maine over on DarkSide DownUnder

DSDU = Dark Side Down Under: A group of Australian writers of romance and other paranormal genres has kindly hosted Eleanor Maine, today on their regular Wednesday, A Bite of... blog spot, where they are featuring her paranormal romance novella, A Gargoyle for the Hotel Gothica. 

First Page: Darkness and Light by C.M. Simpson

Darkness and Light is one of the short stories to be included in An Anthology of Gods and Older Magic. It is currently only available as a stand-alone short story.

Abselia has traveled a long way to reach the trading town. Shadows move at her arrival, and light shimmers in dismay. Can light’s champion find the stronghold of shadows, and solve the puzzle of its strength, or is she doomed to failure like all who have gone before?

Darkness and Light is a short tale of dark fantasy and a battle older than time. It is currently available as a stand-alone title at Smashwords, but will shortly become available at Kobo, Kindle, and iTunes. It is one of the stories which will be incorporated into An Anthology of Gods and Older Magic.

First Page

The day had been hot and the road dustier than usual. Abselia looked at where the town rose to make a dark silhouette against the afternoon sun. It was larger than she’d expected, and she felt a twinge of unease. The duty lying before her would be harder for having a large town overhead.

One of the guards rode his horse alongside the cart on which she'd purchased passage, and smiled down at her. "You sure this is the place?" he asked.

"This is it." Abselia left it at that. She'd been deflecting approaches from the guards all journey. She sighed, pretending to study the wooden palisade surrounding the town.

The guard allowed his horse to drop back.

The day had been too long, Abselia decided as they passed through the gates, with no more than a cursory check from the men stationed there.

And the journey, she thought, as she caught the overseer's eye and signaled she was leaving, near longer than I can stand.

She dropped from the back of the cart, making sure she dragged her knapsack after herself. Having reached the journey's end, unscathed and unattached, Abselia was glad to see the front of an inn and the back of her companions.

Abselia didn't stop to watch the caravan as it wound its way towards the town’s merchant's quarter. If she had, she might have seen the flickering of shadows that blurred the buildings' shade and the answering shimmer that shook the heat haze in the caravan's wake. As it was, she saw neither. Her attention was wholly taken by the coolness of the inn's interior and the promise of a cold drink, a decent meal and a soft bed.

She was even hoping for a private bath. The road's dust had formed a fine film over her skin and it would be good to feel the air moving freely against her face again. She walked purposefully through the main entrance. The heat outside the inn's door shimmered in frustration, and a flicker of shadow laughed in reply, as Abselia walked across to the counter at the bar.

The sound of her boots on the wooden flooring made the innkeeper look up. It was late afternoon. Travelers would be arriving with the caravans ending the day’s journey in town. He should at least welcome the first.

The shadows fluttered around him, running tendrils through his hair, and breathing soft words into his ear. He nodded at their reminder. He would not forget. They were due their tribute just as he was due his life.

He watched the woman approaching the counter and felt a twinge of regret. She was tall and trim, her figure as lithe as a cat's and her skin tanned honey brown. She was the first to arrive, and the shadows had made their choice in spite of who might come after. He hurried to greet her.

"Afternoon, lady," he called.

END FIRST PAGE

If you would like to read more, Darkness and Light can be found  as a stand-alone title at Smashwords, but will shortly become available at Kobo, Kindle, and iTunes.

 

First Chapters: Hunters of the Nile by Eleanor Maine

Hunters of the Nile was originally published under Eleanor Maine's pen name, Ellie Moonwater, but Eleanor decided it was too tame for Ellie, and took it under her own name. Hunters of the Nile is a tale of finding love and pleasure in the distant past.
 
When Callista wakes up naked after being abducted one evening from Inskip’s Stables, she discovers she is the subject of a modern day, but very secret hunt club. Running for her life, she tries to evade her pursuers by hiding in a cave, but she slips and falls into a strange mist, losing consciousness on the way down. When she returns to consciousness, it is to bright midday sun, barren desert and a hunt of a very different kind. Captured by an Egyptian noble, Callista must adapt to a new land, and a different era. Torn from all she knew, she must also learn if she has to face the future alone.

Hunters of the Nile is available from the Smashwords, Kobo, Kindle, CreateSpace and iTunes bookstores.

Chapter One: The Hunt

Callista—What a name to be saddled with… and speaking of saddling… Callista pulled the girth tight on Romany’s saddle and patted him affectionately.

“Now, see you behave yourself,” she whispered, leading the big bay out into the mounting yard. “Play nice, today.”

It was a vain hope, and she knew it. Once Romany Prince had taken a dislike to someone, the dislike tended to stay—and Romany had taken a grand dislike to Steven O’Sullivan. For once, Callista couldn’t fault the horse’s taste. Mr O’Sullivan was a prat.

Unfortunately, Mr. O’Sullivan was a well-paying prat, and the stable couldn’t really afford to lose his patronage. Callista only wished the man had taken her advice and accepted a different mount for the day.

Running a hand through her reddish-brown hair and walking into the yard, Callista sighed. Mr. O’Sullivan was dressed for battle, and his grey eyes sparkled with anticipation at the idea of a difficult ride. If Callista hadn’t known better, she would have thought he’d picked a fight with Romany on purpose, but that was ridiculous. Why would anyone deliberately pick a fight with a horse? It wasn’t as though you got anything for winning!

Taking in the man’s tight-fitting cream jodhpurs, black riding boots, an impeccably laundered, black, riding jacket, and the riding crop he was impatiently tapping against one thigh, Callista forced a brief smile to her face.

“Here he is, Mr. O’Sullivan. He’s raring to go, today.” If she was lucky, he couldn’t read the worry that shadowed her blue-green eyes.

“Oh please, Callie, you can call me Steve.” The man paused, glancing over Romany’s upraised head and flaring nostrils. “Well, he certainly looks the part. Let’s see how he behaves, shall we?”

Hiding her reluctance, and ignoring the way Romany’s ears flattened against his head as they approached, Callista led the bay over. Romany snorted as Mr. O’Sullivan’s hand snapped out and Callista laid the reins in his leather-gloved palm. The rider paused once his hand had closed over them, and looked at her.

“Have you ever been the fox, Callie, in a hunt with hounds?”

Callista felt her shoulders tighten in resentment. She hadn’t given him permission to use her nick name, hadn’t even told him what it was. And she didn’t approve of hunting, not even the sort that used human runners instead of a real, live fox. Choking down her anger, she raised her chin and surveyed him coolly.

“No,” she said, her voice declaring an end to that line of conversation.

“A pity,” he replied. “You’ve the look of a runner about you.”

He said no more, but swung the reins over Romany’s head and rose quickly into the saddle. Before Callista had a chance to respond, he had jerked the horse’s head around, and kicked him into a fast trot that was barely within the stable rules. He had Romany up to a gallop by the time they’d reached the edge of the trees that marked the start of the Forest Ride.

Heart in mouth, Callista watched as Romany disappeared into Velici’s Copse. Was it only hope that made her imagine a slowing of the pace? With any luck, she had not imagined it, and Mr. O’Sullivan had shown the sense to ease back to a trot.

The Forest Ride wound through Velici’s Copse for a good two miles, before reaching the summit of the Morrisman’s Knoll. It wasn’t designed for a gallop. The top of the Knoll, however, held a broad expanse of grass, where there’d be room to give Romany a good run.

Callista shivered, thinking of the tricks the horse might try at a slower pace, beneath the trees. In some ways, Mr. O’Sullivan’s rapid exit had avoided much of the big animal’s mischievous antics. She dreaded seeing Romany’s condition on the man’s return.

For the next hour, she readied horses for Mr. Inskip’s riding lesson. The children came only to ride and, much as she disapproved of the policy, they were not expected to either tack up before, or care for their mounts after, the lesson. The lesson itself was well underway when Mr. O’Sullivan returned, triumphantly riding a steaming and blowing Romany through the gate.

Like the children, Mr. O’Sullivan came only to ride, and it was Callista who walked the horse until he was cool enough to stable. All the time, she was raging inside. That arrogant sonofa… she bit back a growl and patted Romany’s neck. He’d been ridden hard, and she could see where O’Sullivan had used the crop on his neck, and rump and shoulders. If Mr. Inskip didn’t ban the blackguard now… then… Callista paused… then… well, what would she do? She couldn’t afford to quit.

Mr. Inskip had looked over Romany, once the children were gone, and their ponies cared for. He didn’t say anything, but the thoughtful frown he wore as he left, meant Romany’s condition had him thinking. It was just turning dusk, when Callista racked the last saddle and hung the last bridle on its peg.

“See you tomorrow, Mr Inskip,” she called, as she hurried past his office.

“Good night, Callie.”

“Yeah, good night Callie,” another voice echoed, as she stepped into the dark outside.

Callista barely had time to register it, before an arm coiled around her chest, and a hand covered her mouth and nose with a wad of damp cloth. Her cry of shock never made it past the bitter-scented fabric as she was dragged into deeper shadows. When her struggles ceased, her captor swung her lithe frame into his arms and carried her to the waiting jeep.

*   *   *

Nausea was the first thing Callista registered when she opened her eyes. Nausea, almost overwhelming thirst and the discomfort of bare ground beneath her. She was staring up at a star-lit sky. No, she blinked and slowly moved. No, she was staring up at leaves, the leaves of a great many branches that arced overhead and shifted in the night breeze. The stars were really the moon, its shape broken as shone down through the branches.

Rolling onto her side, and then into a crouch, Callista noticed two other things. One, she was naked. Naked! She groaned, thinking That can’t be good. And, two, there was a note. Or, rather, an envelope, which must surely contain a note, taped to a tree.

It was a silver envelope, and taped beside it was the oblong outline of a torch. Callista reached for them both, her hands trembling, the nausea she felt no longer the sole result of the drug she’d inhaled. With the help of the torch, she could read the single word printed on the outside,

Callie

It was ‘her’ envelope. Callista took it down and carefully unsealed it.

The envelope was heavy and contained two things. The first was a watch face with a large crack across its middle. It was from a man’s watch, silver and black, with luminous numbers and glowing hands that she could see in the dark. To her surprise, it was only ten o’clock. The second item in the envelope was a sheet of good-quality paper, creamy-yellow in the torchlight, and displaying the following message:

Have you ever been the fox, Callie? Well, now’s your chance. If the clock reads 10 pm, you’re running out of time. We left the kennels at 9:55. The hounds have your scent and you’ve a long way to run. If you can make it over the river, we might never catch you. If you can’t, your tail is mine.

O

For a moment, Callie thought she would drop the letter with its poisonous words. Her heart beat sped up in panic. What did it mean? Forcing down the bile threatening to rise, she read the note again, but it wasn’t until the faint barking of dogs reached her ears, that O’Sullivan’s words came back to her and she understood.

She was the fox! Those were dogs… and she was the fox! She had to run. She had to outrun the dogs. The words in the note leapt to mind. She had to make it to the river, or…

Her tail? She wasn’t sure she wanted to understand exactly what that meant. Foxes had a tail; she didn’t, well, not a fox tail per se. No, she decided, I really don’t want to know that last sentence means. And there was only one way to make sure she didn’t find out.

The sound of barking dogs drifted faintly to where she crouched.

Who knows how far away the kennels are from here… Who knows how long it will take them to reach me… to reach … here.

She didn’t want to be anywhere near here once the dogs, the hounds, started casting about for her scent.

Using the shafts of moonlight as her guide, Callista rose to her feet and took stock of the country around her. She was in a forest, an open forest, she noted with relief, with not many bushes to block her path. She was also standing on an incline, which meant she was on a hill. From the top of the hill, she might see the river.

Moving now, Callista began to hurry upwards, moving towards the crest of the hill. She dared not run. Her feet were too tender, and her eyes were still adjusting to the dark—or was that her mind. She didn’t stop to figure it out. Clutching the note, the torch and the watchface in one hand, she scrambled towards the summit.

If I can see the river, I can run towards the river. If I can reach the river, I can cross the river. If I can cross the river, I can be safe. The words repeated through her head like a mantra. If I can see the river, I can run towards the river, If I can reach the river, I can cross the river.

Her determination took her to the top of the hill, and the moonlight showed her an outcrop of rocks that might give her a vantage point over the trees. Hurrying across to it, and using the moonlight to light her way, Callie began to climb.

If I can cross the river, I can be safe. If I can see the riv…er…

Behind her, the barking grew louder. Now she could hear the sound of horses making their way through the forest. She could hear the low murmur of voices. Surely there weren’t women in the pack that was searching out her trail?

Forcing herself not to panic, Callista, reached the edge of the outcrop and looked out. She was on a hill, alright, and one that descended into a series of valleys and undulations. Halfway to the horizon, she could see the gleaming silver ribbon of a river. It was the only river in sight.

If I can see the river, I can run to the river, Callista repeated to herself, scrambling quickly back off the rocks. Moving quickly around the outcrop, she picked another series of boulders and began to jog towards them. Running was out of the question. If she ran, she might fall. This shuffling jog was the best she could do. She could only hope that it would be enough.

If I can run to the river, I can…

Behind her, a dog raised its voice in a yelp of victory.

No! They can’t have arrived already! Picking up her pace, Callista lurched forward. The torch dropped from her hand as she reached out to fend off an oncoming tree trunk. The note followed it a short time after when she ran full tilt through a tangle of bushes.

Dammit! There goes the evidence! her thoughts wailed as she slid on a thick carpet of leaves and flailed for balance. The boulders she’d set her sights on loomed closer until, in a few short breaths, she slithered around their red, granite bases, using one hand to steady herself.

Behind her, another hound had raised its voice, and another, until there was a chorus of baying yelps echoing through the forest.

Only madmen would do this, she thought, and found herself answering the comment with an angry jeer. Oh yeah? Well, did you notice the moon? Full moon lunacy. And might I ask you what brings you out tonight, my dear?

She couldn’t quite stop the hysterical giggle that escaped her lips, and then had to stifle a yelp of pain as she stepped on something that bruised the sole of her foot. Not now! Christ that hurt! Callista limped two or three steps, before the pain faded enough for her to go back to her shambling run.

A hound started to bay. Closer now, so close. Callista sighted on another rocky outcrop and plunged downward. All her energy was going to keeping her feet as the slope grew steeper, and she left the more open forest for the wilder foliage that crawled up the base of the hill.

It’s hopeless, she began to think, but she didn’t want to give up. If I can cross the river, I can escape. Surely the undergrowth would slow the dogs. It would certainly hinder the horses. It was assuredly slowing her! Perhaps if she could find somewhere the dogs couldn’t reach, and the horsemen couldn’t get to her.

With renewed interest, Callista began scanning the moonlit forest around her, her eyes taking in the looming shadows of another outcrop of rocks with hope. What if there were caves? What if there was a whole network of caves? She could find a cave and push rocks across the opening and…

The sound of crackling leaves and snapping twigs came from behind her. The sound of the dog’s baying changed in pitch as it caught a glimpse of her pale skin and waving arms. Callista could not stop the sob of fear that wrenched itself free from her chest.

They couldn’t catch her like this! It wasn’t fair. Forgetting her fear of lurking spiders, and trying to ignore the sharp-edged rocks and twigs beneath her feet, Callista lunged towards the outcrop. Praying that there would be a cave, or a crevice, or something in which she could shelter, and hoping she didn’t step on anything else, she broke into a full run.

The dogs sounded bare meters behind. The outcrop was bare meters ahead. It seemed like forever. A branch caught in Callista’s hair, but she didn’t stop, didn’t notice what had happened until there was a sudden pain in her scalp, and then a crack as the twig ends gave way, releasing her. With another sob, Callista stumbled to the base of the outcrop, her vision momentarily stolen by the darkness of their shadow.

Using her hands to feel her way, she frantically patted the towering side of the formation. Behind her, the dogs’ baying changed note as they lost sight of her.

“Please, please, please,” Callista whispered, moving around the outcrop, her hands searching for a place to lay hold of, or for a hole to hide in.

“Please,” she sobbed, as she reached its lowest point and had to choose between searching the other side of the outcrop or running further down the hill and then either following the valley around, or climbing the next hill.

“Oh God, please,” she begged, as she chose to keep searching and the moon lit the formation’s side.

She came face to face with the dog, and a closely-following rider as her hands met empty air and her eyes registered the blackness of a deep hollow in the formation’s side. For a moment, they stared at each other, she, deciding between the possibility of meeting a spider or snake and the possibility of what might happen if the rider caught her, and he, for it was most definitely a he, rejoicing at his unexpected luck.

There’d been a wager that she would reach the bottom of the hill. If she did, then he’d have to share her. If she didn’t… He lunged, just as the dog jumped towards her. Callista stumbled sideways with a shriek, and disappeared into the darkened hollow between where two massive boulders reached for the sky.

“She’s mine!” he exulted, and called the dog away.

*END-EXCERPT*

Should you want to read more, Hunters of the Nile is available from the Smashwords, Kobo, Kindle, CreateSpace and iTunes bookstores.

First Chapters: Secondhand Sweetheart by Madeleine Torr

Secondhand Sweetheart is Madeleine Torr's first full-length romance. Set in both contemporary Melbourne and Tasmania, Australia, it is the tale of betrayal, recovery and how not everything is as it seems.

When Lisa Montgomery resigns her job as a flight attendant so she can mend her relationship with her long-time boyfriend, Duncan Holland, the last thing she expects is to have to face the prospect of a future with another man. Photographed in a compromising situation with one of the airline directors, and then compromised a second time by the same photographer, Lisa’s future looks bleak, until she decides to take control and see what she can do to repair her tarnished reputation.

Secondhand Sweetheart is available from Smashwords, Kobo, Kindle, and CreateSpace.

Chapter 1: Nightmare Flight

Lisa knew she shouldn’t have gone to work with a headache—but the flight wasn’t that long—just Perth to Melbourne. Besides she’d rather work it than sit and endure the mindless hours of travel from a passenger’s seat. It would help her stretch her last pay packet, too.

Before working for the airline, Lisa had trained as a secretary, and still had references from the temping agency she had worked for in Brisbane. She knew she would be able to find work; she just didn’t know when. Lisa sighed. She was going to miss being a flight attendant. It wasn’t just the travel, it was the variety of passengers she met, as well as the people she worked with, who made the job worthwhile. She didn’t mind working in an office, but she’d rather walk a flight to Perth or San Francisco than drive a desk all day.

None of this mattered, of course. It was her relationship with Duncan Holland that mattered—and if that was ever to have the chance it deserved, then she had to stay in one place for a while. Duncan’s distraction over the past few weeks was proof enough of that. Promising career or not, Lisa knew where her priorities lay, and a life with Duncan was more important than serving the jet set crowd at thirty thousand feet or more.

This afternoon would see her walk off the plane in her flight attendant’s uniform for the last time. She wondered how Duncan would take it. He’d be over the moon, probably. No more trips away, with him complaining of loneliness until she got back, and using her absence to excuse the most outrageous behavior.

Nadine, who often flew with Lisa, had said she’d seen him dancing the night away with a striking brunette the last time Lisa had taken the Perth flight. And when Lisa had questioned him about it, Duncan had denied it. That is, he’d denied it until she’d said who’d seen him.

“That lying bitch!” he’d exclaimed viciously, and had been about to embark on a tirade when Nadine’s voice had entered, sugar-sweet, into the conversation. “Would you like to see the photos, Dunky?”

Faced with the proof on Nadine’s mobile phone, Duncan had been forced to admit that he had, indeed, been out with another girl, “but it meant nothing,” he’d said. “It never means anything unless it’s with you.”

Nadine had rolled her eyes before snapping the mobile closed and walking away. It was, after all, Lisa’s decision to make. They both already knew Nadine’s opinion on what should be done. Lisa didn’t agree, and the two friends avoided any discussion of ‘The Duncan Problem’ unless one, or the other, of them thought it important enough to bring up.

Lisa breathed a sigh of relief. At least Nadine wasn’t on this flight, and they’d probably not see each other too often after it, given that ‘The Duncan Problem’ was the reason Lisa was quitting, and that this had been the cause of one of the few arguments between the two friends. Lisa expected they’d meet for coffee once or twice on the next few occasions Nadine touched down in Melbourne, but then they’d finally drift far enough apart to not see each other anymore. It would be a pity, but that was the way life sometimes went.

She stowed her cabin luggage in one of the forward compartments, and turned, smiling pleasantly, to greet the passengers as they boarded. All the time, the dagger-like pain in her temples continued to build until, by the time the doors had been armed and cross-checked, she was wondering if she would make it to the end of the flight. She hadn’t had a headache like this for ages!

Turning, Lisa disappeared into the crew’s compartment and took a couple of painkillers. There, that should take the edge off it for a while. She gathered the safety gear, and went out to give ‘The Talk’ to the first-class passengers. Brenda caught her by the arm as she reached the door. “Are you alright? You’re looking a bit pale.”

Lisa managed a comforting smile. “I’m fine, just a bit tired. It’s been a long week.”

The other girl nodded sympathetically. “Of course. Big decision and all. You’re sure you’re doing the right thing?”

Did everybody know? Lisa turned up the wattage of her smile: “Of course I’m sure. This relationship is worth it. I’d be silly not to give it the best chance I could.” Not wanting to hear any more negative comments about Duncan, she stepped out into the passenger aisle before the words forming on Brenda’s lips could be spoken. The dark-haired financier was the best thing to happen to her in a long time, and she wasn’t about to throw it all away because her job kept her from him. There were other jobs she could take that would let her stay by his side.

It wasn’t until she was serving drinks later in the flight that her comment about the relationship being worth it came back to haunt her, and with it, her headache. Promising to become a full-blown migraine, it struck without warning, a sharp, stabbing pain that obscured her vision for a few seconds. With an effort, she suppressed a gasp and held her smile in place. “There you go, sir,” she said, hiding her pain and handing the man his coffee-nothing-stronger-thanks.

He smiled back, and then frowned with concern as he looked at her. “Are you all right, Miss?” he asked. “You’ve gone as white as a sheet.”

“Oh, yes, fine thanks,” Lisa replied, feeling as though she was smiling from behind a curtain of fuzz. “I’m completely fine.” As she said it, the pain faded to a tolerable level, and the fuzz cleared.

It wasn’t true, of course. Lisa felt far from fine. As well as the dull ache that the headache had become, she was beginning to feel mildly nauseous. She hoped she didn’t commit the cardinal sin of throwing up on a passenger. Handing him the sugar he’d asked for, she moved on to the next person. Studiously ignoring the concerned look from her colleague, she continued to work. “Would you like anything to drink, ma’am?”

Somehow she got through the first half of the flight, but she hadn’t realized how much it would take out of her. I must be coming down with something, Lisa thought. I feel exhausted.

Concern about her deteriorating health was interspersed with worry about Duncan. She’d been away on flights for the past week now, with no time between them to really go out and be with him. He’d said it was okay, that some project at the office was taking a large amount of his time, and that she wasn’t to worry—they’d make up for the lost time when she touched down for a break. Lisa only hoped that the project he was working on had more to do with finances and accounting, than someone with a pretty face and nice legs. Surely he wouldn’t betray her again?

Lisa scowled. She hadn’t told him this would be her last flight, or that she’d be moving in with him once the lease on her flat ran out. She’d wanted it to be a surprise. Now she was beginning to doubt her wisdom. Surely he wouldn’t have found someone else since she and Nadine had caught him out the last time. She was hoping she meant more to him than that. With an effort, she pushed aside the thought that there’d been another betrayal before the last, and maybe there had been others. That possibility didn’t bear thinking about.

And besides, it was her own fault. She’d known he needed companionship. It was what had attracted her to him in the first place, and what had made her hold off telling him what she did for a living. When she had finally revealed her job, he hadn’t seemed to be too worried. That had come later, the first time she’d been away for three days in a row.

He’d been sweet about it then, she realized, concealing his concerns behind phone calls every night, and ensuring there were flowers waiting for her at each airport. It had almost been embarrassing to have someone cling to her like that. After a while, he had seemed to grow used to it. The phone calls still came—that was natural in any relationship—and the flowers still waited for her, although not at every airport, just her end destination. It was still sweet, and not as clingy. A more mature approach, she’d decided, and one that boded well for the relationship. Lately, though, Duncan’s attitude had appeared to change.

He had seemed distracted when they were together, and the flowers no longer waited to meet her when she reached the flight attendants’ lounge. He’d stopped calling her when she was away saying, in spite of her protests, that he thought he was still being too clingy, and smiling apologetically when she mentioned it. He blamed it on a busy patch at work, but then there had been the red-head, and now there’d been the brunette. Could it be that she was doing too little, too late? Had she already lost him, and he just hadn’t gotten around to telling her yet?

Lisa hoped not. She had just sacrificed a promising career to give their relationship the chance it would have had, if she’d had a normal job in the same city as her boyfriend. Of course, it had also meant that she might need to give up her flat until her new career path was established, but Lisa didn’t think Duncan would mind. He’d probably appreciate the excuse to have her nearby, and he’d love the fact that she would be there every night to keep him company. At least, she hoped he would.

Masking these concerns with a smile that didn’t quite warm her eyes, and pushing down a rebellious wave of nausea, Lisa stepped out into the cabin to serve the first in-flight meal. The painkillers had taken the edge off her headache, and the short respite had allowed her stomach to settle—although how much of the nausea was from the headache and her fear of appearing less than well to the passengers, and how much was worrying over her errant boyfriend was something Lisa didn’t want to think about. If she was very lucky, she’d make it to the end of the flight, call Duncan, and be able to collapse in the car as he drove her home.

Disaster struck when she was about half-way down the aisle. She’d been distracted by that male passenger again. The other attendants had already commented on how good-looking he was, and they were right. His hair was so dark it was almost black, and his eyes were that deep, solemn blue of summer skies. What was even cuter was the light sprinkling of freckles across his nose and cheeks. She noticed, also, that the suit he wore was cut by an Italian designer, and his shoes were Italian as well. Whoever he was, he was one of the wealthy elite, like many of those who traveled first class. Even the subtle scent of his cologne reeked of expense.

Lisa suppressed her body’s spark of interest with a snort of derision. He probably knew just how gorgeous he was as well and, judging from the contemplative frown on his face, he still thought there was something wrong with her. She knew the type, though. Once you’d gained their attention, they’d stare at you as though you were something unpleasant found on the bottom of their shoe, while contemplating if you’d agree to help them become a member of the Mile High Club. No doubt he’d be overjoyed if she made a mistake—and the way she was feeling now, she was bound to.

The thought had no sooner crossed her mind than the headache returned with a vengeance. The cabin spun as Lisa turned to give the meal—a creamy chicken and mushroom paella—to her next passenger. She was aware of a startled shriek of horror, and of the tray and her world tilting sideways, as everything went grey, and the headache whited out all other sound.

When her vision had cleared, and she could see again, Lisa found she had not quite fainted, but neither had she imagined things tilting. The contents of the tray were spread from the crown of the female passenger’s head, to the expensive silk skirt covering her lap. “I am so sorry,” Lisa mumbled, clutching the back of the seat for support. “Let me get something to clean you up.”

“No, let me help you to a seat.”

Lisa startled. That masculine rumble had come from right behind her! She turned to face the source of it, and the world spun again. There was a surprised oath, and she was aware of the world graying out as strong hands caught her and drew her into the supportive circle of a set of stronger arms. Her last thought before the world went completely dark was of the cleaning bill for the silk suit she had just ruined—and how the airline would never have her back, even if things went bad with Duncan and she changed her mind. Interwoven amongst it all was the alluring scent of an expensive cologne…

Mitchell Davidson looked down at the crumpled form in his arms and bit back the urge to swear. Although she weighed no more than a feather, she was awkward to hold, and he was embarrassingly aware that all eyes in the first-class section were on him.

Wisps of chestnut hair had escaped the French plait the attendant wore and her face was as pale as spilt milk.

“I’m going to sue you for every penny you’re worth.” The female voice came from the passenger that had been covered in paella.

Mitchell suppressed a sigh and glanced up at her.

“Now, Cassy, you and I both know the airline is not responsible.” He held up a hand to still her protest. “However, as a personal expression of regret, I will help you replace your suit.”

“You do know it’s a designer one-off, don’t you?” Cassidy Lawrence’s voice held a hint of triumph.

Mitchell could have argued that, with a sick woman in his arms, he didn’t care if the suit had been unearthed from the most exotic tomb of a lost civilization, but he bit his tongue just in time. Cassidy didn’t need the incentive to take him for all he was worth. Besides, flattery would do far more to smooth her ruffled feathers than sarcasm, no matter how well deserved.

“I could tell,” he said, “but I’ll equal its value, when you find another you like.”

There was an intake of breath from more than one passenger at his offer. He decided to sweeten the deal, hoping he wouldn’t regret his generosity later.

“And I’ll take you to dinner.”

“You know where…” Cassidy taunted him.

Mitchell managed a smile designed to charm.

“I know where. Call me to organize when.”

Looking like a cat that had caught a canary and managed to cover it in cream, Cassidy succumbed to another flight attendant’s offer of assistance. Mitchell watched as she was led off to get cleaned up in private, before returning his attention to the woman in his arms. Even with the pallor of illness, she was beautiful, and he felt his heart lurch.

“Can I help you, sir?” The blonde flight attendant who had been hovering on the edge of his vision leant towards him.

Juggling her unconscious colleague in his arms, Mitchell fumbled for his wallet and took out a card.

“If you would let me use the telephone in the staff kitchen,” he said, “I’d be grateful.”

The attendant glanced at the card and paled.

“I’ll need to confirm, sir,” she said. “It shouldn’t take too long.”

Mitchell nodded, then focused on the task of lifting his burden clear of the aisle and settling her into the empty seat beside his own. Helping himself to a pillow and blanket from the overhead locker, he made her as comfortable as he could and waited for her colleague to return. 

All the while, he was wondering exactly what he’d done, and what on earth he was going to do next.

*END-EXCERPT*

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