Sara Curran-Ross's Blog, page 10

News

Hi Everyone,

Just to let you know that The Organ Grinder is now to be published by Solstice Publishing in 2011.  I am very excited.  I will keep you up to date on developments as they happen.  In the meantime I would like to thank you for your support in visting my blog and taking the time to read my work.

Best wishes.

Sara.

Knight Of Coins (Work In Progress)

Hi Everyone,

I am in talks with a publisher over The Organ Grinder so I can't post anymore chapters.  In the meantime I am going to post chapters of Knight Of Coins.  It's a modern twist on my romantic victorian vampire novel, Knight Of Swords that is being published by Hellfire Publishing in april this year.  Hope you like it.

Best wishes.

Sara.


Chapter One

It was late morning, Halloween when I decided to kidnap Sabrina Collins. I had never kidnapped a woman before and I did not intend to make a habit of it and I confess the task made me more than apprehensive. But there was no other option. I had been patient long enough. Sabrina Collins would not come to me of her own free will and accept her destiny by my side so I had no choice but to take matters in hand and force her surrender.


The wind was picking up into a bluster in the dull grey sky as I followed her into the wood. It swirled colours of red and gold as it lifted the fallen autumn leaves from the floor and moved them in a vortex around me. Thankfully, she did not detect my presence as I watched her attractive mop of short blond curls bob in between the trees a small distance away.

I couldn't help but frown on her with disapproval at the careless way she took liberties with her safety when the change was now upon her. Turning from human to hybrid Taleian vampire was fraught with danger. It brought death to the human body in the first stage and then forced the agonising birth of the hybrid on awakening. If blood was not administered before and during the transition she would die a second painful death. As her fated Taleian mate I could not endure losing her. I had waited more than a century for her birth. She could not deny her identity as the child of a human and vampire union or dismiss my warnings any longer.

I brushed her consciousness with my mind rejoicing at how easy it felt to make telepathic contact with her through our natural Taleian bond. I winced when I felt the strength of the headache that pounded in her temples and the building of the fever that accompanied the start of her metamorphosis. Yet still she walked in the middle of the lonely woods unaccompanied on her way home from lecturing at the university. She was a stubborn woman just like the rest in the royal line and the Queen herself. She would learn in time that I would not tolerate it in matters of her protection.

I was about to make my move when I suddenly sensed the presence of two other Taleian's in the wood close by, stalking Sabrina like prey. I whirled around seeking them out. Slavers! The sound of a mobile echoed noisily around the small but crowded wood snapping my attention back to Sabrina. I shook my head cursing under my breath as she answered her phone granting the slavers the perfect distraction to make their ambush easy. One of them stood aiming a gun at her back as she slowed her brisk walk to concentrate on her phone call.

Their plan was a simple one. Shoot her down to bring on her quick death and the change faster so that by the time tomorrow morning came she would be fully transformed and hidden in a slave camp. Her body would then be rich in the healing properties bestowed upon the females in the hybrid race and they would callously rip the organs from her body to give to humans for a profit. For if an ill human could find no cure for his disease he could consume the flesh of a Taleian hybrid woman and keep himself in remission, if not cured. It made the price upon a female hybrid's head worth fighting over. And as her body healed the process would be repeated over and over again for an eternity.

Anger and determination that they would not possess my innocent mate fuelled my quick movement and I was in perfect time to knock her to the ground with the simple push of my hand and take the bullet square in my chest. I stood guard in front of my charge widening my mouth to bare the sharpness of my incisors and hiss my warning that I would kill any who attempted to take my her from me.

I glanced down at the bullet wound in my chest without a care, only glad that Sabrina was safe behind me now although a quick look told me I had pushed her so hard she had passed out cold. I had to hurry. The two Taleian slavers came out of the trees to face me at speed but I was ready landing a heavy punishing kick to the stomach of the first to reach me. He flew backwards to land between two trees on his back as I raised the back of my arm and knocked it into the face of the other.

I unsheathed the sword at my side and twisted it with natural ease in my hand as the first came to tackle me once more. I swung neatly to one side and sliced the ancient blade cleanly through his neck to sever his head in one satisfying moment.

I felt exhilarated as I moved to face the second man. There had not been many opportunities to test my strength and bravery as a Taleian knight for a long time. My energy and that of the other royal knights had been spent more in concealing our identity amongst the humans than in respecting our true nature in recent times. I moved to strike my sword at my enemy but he was giving up the fight and retreating like the coward he was. I lowered my weapon sensing no other apparent danger in the wood and dropped to my knees to tend to Sabrina.

Calling her name I gently turned her over and swept my fingers over her face. She was a beautiful woman. Small, curvaceous and coupled with a tempestuous temperament that would prove an inviting challenge in our relationship, she was all I could have asked for. I probed my fingers across the large purple bruise gathering on her feverish forehead. She was going to be unconscious for a while longer. At least it would make the execution of my crime of kidnap now an easy one. I slipped my arm under her legs and lifted her up into my arms to carry her to the car.

Sabrina didn't wake up until she was lying on the sofa in my study. I could have put her to bed but I was reluctant to leave her alone. I wanted her where I could keep my eye on her. The fever was getting worse and soon it would be time to give my charge her first taste of blood. I stood up from my desk and approached her stirring form watching her long black lashes flutter open only to briefly close and open again. This time her eyes widened and there was panic in them as she took in her unfamiliar surroundings. I felt her fear sting sharp and hot in my mind as she sat up with a start.

She winced and her hand flew to her head. I knelt down in front of her and took hold of her shoulders gently guiding her back down onto the pillow I had placed under her head.

'What am I doing here? Oh no it's you. I thought I told you last night at the party to leave me alone. Did you bring me here? What have you done? Kidnapped me? I don't believe this.' She closed her eyes with impatience.

I gave a laugh.

'Don't you ever shut up? I did what I had to. You wouldn't listen to me. I had no choice but to act. Besides you should be grateful, I took a bullet for you today,' I joked.

I stood up and undid the button on my suit jacket and with playful eyes I opened it so she could see the blood stain on my white shirt. Her mouth opened in shock and I knelt down to tilt her chin upwards to close it with great amusement.

'So, now will you believe everything that I have told you about your heritage and the dangers you face?'

Sabrina was suitably silent but it was not to last.

'I have to get out of here. You are mad if you think for one moment I am going to believe that I am a vampire in waiting. I am a scientist. I don't believe in things like that.'

I stood with a sigh and walked to the front of my desk, picking up the glass of cognac I had poured myself earlier and leant against it watching her throw off the blanket I had put around her. I took a sip of the fiery golden brown liquid and then looked up at her again as she continued her annoying rant.

'Wait until the media gets a hold of this,' she challenged using her hands and wide gleeful eyes for emphasis. 'I can just see what they'll print in the newspapers,' she said with venom. 'Hot rich playboy, Victor James, kidnaps lone woman in wood and tries to convince her he is a vampire when she rejected him. I mean, really. All this because I didn't fall at your feet like every other woman when you asked her out. I mean how many women do you want? You came to the party with two of them on your arm last night as it was.'

'So you think I'm hot?' I mocked.

'I get it. You don't take rejection very well. Tough. Don't you think your stunt has gone far enough?'

You never stop do you?' I said sarcastically. She was beginning to push my patience with her constant denial.

I was in her mind, I knew all of her thoughts. She desired me as much as I desired her whether either of us liked it or not. The bond between us was growing strong since I'd found her but she continued to fight it afraid of its strength. Others would come to challenge my right to her and do all in their power to break our link to take her for their own as per Taleian law. Some of them would ignore the challenge and simply rape her and make her their own and I would never be able to retrieve her. For once the mating ritual had taken place she would be lost. If I did not succeed in my quest to protect her from their violence she would be taken from me.

She swung her legs down on the floor and stood up, gripping the end of the sofa to steady her swaying form. It was an effort not to go to her but I stayed casually leaning against the desk watching her intently. It seemed to frighten her and unfortunately that was what I needed to do to force her to accept the truth. But still she persisted as though trying to test the boundaries that I had set upon her freedom.

'I am out of here before you go too far and do something you will regret, Mr James,' she told me fiercely and began to move. I took another sip of cognac and let her get as far as the door.

'You are not going anywhere,' I told her with a dark menace to my tone.

She stopped her movement and turned to look at me with fearful eyes . Good I was beginning to get through. Whatever it took to make her surrender to her new existence and to myself I would do it and damn the human part of my conscience.

'I have to leave, Victor, this is ridiculous . . .'

'Doctor Collins, I said you are not going anywhere. Now sit down and rest before I make you.'

My tone was deeper, more threatening this time and I meant that I would carry out my threat. I was fast discovering that the way to master Sabrina's temper was with a firm hand.

Fearful she made a sudden break for the door. I flicked my eyes ever so slightly towards it as she took hold of the handle and prised it from her fingers with my mental strength. I slammed it closed and locked it.

'Sit down, Sabrina,' I commanded making her jump as she stared at the door.

'How did you do that?

Her anxiety was at full tilt raising her blood pressure and pumping adrenaline around her body and too fast a rate for her sickening body. I grew concerned.

'I closed it with my mind.'

'No, ordinary people can't do that.'

'I can and so can you. I know from your mind you have been able to move objects before and you've kept it secret. We are not ordinary people,' I told her calmly. 'I said sit down.'

Sabrina put her hand to her head and staggered. I put down my drink and began to move towards her.

'Ok, ok, I will sit down before I fall down,' she told me putting her hand out.

I kept my distance as she struggled to sit back down.

'I will sit for a while and then I am leaving. You can't just keep me here. I've got flu or something.'

'Why do you continue to deny what you are?' I demanded with frustration.

'Because it can't be real. It just can't . . . I can't be something like that it's impossible and neither was my father one. My mother wouldn't have married a monster . . . What is that?'

I followed the direction of Sabrina's pointed finger to my sword as it lay propped against the wall. I walked towards it and picked it up, running my fingers along the blade as I held it lengthways and pressed the top of my index finger at its tip. Sabrina was both transfixed and unnerved by the weapon. I moved towards her and she pressed herself back in the sofa as I sat down next to her and brought the blade to her soft vulnerable throat, forcing her to strain upwards.

She spluttered her breath with fear. I felt no remorse. She need to be controlled or she would die. I lowered my voice darkly.

'This is what I am going to use to protect you from the slavers and the challengers who are going to come knocking on my door to take you from me the moment you are reborn as a hybrid. The slavers want your flesh and the challengers want to take you as their mate. As a female Taleian hybrid you should consider yourself an endangered species. Too many of you have been taken from us by the slavers and I am not about to let either of them have you because you are mine. But if you do not obey me I may decide to use it upon you instead. Do I make myself clear?'

She nodded furiously when I pressed the blade just a little closer. Satisfied at her capitulation I leaned over and brushed her lips with a kiss yearning for the time when there would be more to our intimate contact. I lifted the back of my hand to test the progress of the fever on her brow. It was nearly time for her death.

'Now, I think it is time you took your first taste of blood, Sabrina.'

Human Harvest

Hi Everyone,

Here is chapter three of The Organ Grinder.  I've changed the title to Human Harvest and added a pic for the book cover on which I would love to hear your comments.  This chapter is a bit of a steamy affair!  Hope you enjoy it.

Best Wishes.

Sara


Chapter Three


He'd taken her to the coffee shop in Camp Bastion when they released her from the hospital. He was as nervous as hell. The loud cat calls and whistling from some of his men sitting near them didn't help either. She'd just done a special report for AHG News and had interviewed him for it. It was going out on the ten o'clock news back in the UK. She looked beautiful. There was a softness about her since the day she'd been shot. The hard edge she had treated himself and his men to was gone. His men had made a fuss about her bravery. She had been embarrassed but touched. She had obviously judged it safe to let her guard down and she wasn't objecting to him pulling out a chair for her.

'How are you feeling?' he asked her, gesturing with his eyes to her arm in the sling.

'Better. They say I can take the sling off in a couple of days time. How about you?' She smiled nervously at him. Her emerald eyes sparkled like jewels at him under her long dark lashes holding him spellbound.

'Yes, I am doing fine thanks. My injury wasn't as bad as yours. Have you spoken to the counsellor yet?'

She lowered her eyes immediately and stared at the table. 'No I haven't. I don't really think they help.'

'I want you to go,' he said firmly.

'Is that an order Major Kane?' There was a challenge in her voice.

'I am responsible for your safety and care while you are here. I want you to receive the help you need. I told you there is no shame in asking for help. The counsellor is here for everyone. I want you to go,' he spoke softly but made sure his voice lost none of its firmness, leaving her in no doubt it was an order. He was learning how to handle her fast.

She raised her head and nodded. 'I will go. I promise.'

They'd chatted about home, family life. He told her about his autistic sister and she talked of her brother. She'd never mentioned her parents once and when he tried to enquire about them she changed the subject. He'd guessed that there was a feud, some disagreement between them and had not mentioned them again. He hadn't wanted the evening to end but he was suddenly aware that she was looking tired and in pain. He quickly said, 'I should let you get some rest. Maybe we should go out again and continue our conversation.'

He'd stood up expecting her to follow but she stayed still in her chair and stared down at the table. Her eyes shifted to the sides. She didn't seem to want to make eye contact with him. 'I'm not tired. I don't want to go to bed yet. Let's have another coffee.'

He frowned down at her with concern. She looked uncomfortable, nervous, suddenly very edgy. Something was clearly wrong. She tapped her finger on the table. He said, 'No, let's do that tomorrow, you need to rest.'

'OK you go, I will have one on my own.' He sat back down confused. She still refused to look at him.

'What's wrong?' he asked carefully. 'Why don't you want to go to sleep?'

He heard her give a sigh and then tell him with frustration, 'I can't sleep. I haven't slept properly in days. I keep seeing that man die, the man I killed. And the nightmares . . . I can't get any peace from them. I woke up screaming last night. That isn't me. I deal with things. I have seen pain and death before as a journalist but this . . . it's personal. I caused the death. I killed him.' He heard the emotion threaten to crack through her words but she held it back tight. 'I just want to be here . . . where there are people. I need company. I just don't want to be alone.'

He studied her for a moment. She was clearly distressed. He made a decision. He stretched out his arm and covered his hand over hers and stopped her finger tapping on the table. She looked up at him quickly. He picked up her small slender hand and curled it neatly under his own. He lowered his voice to a caressing whisper and gave her hand a gentle reassuring squeeze. 'You must get some rest but you don't have to be alone.'

Comprehension startled her eyes, widened her pupils. She paused and then nodded. He let go of her hand and stood up. This time she followed his lead and allowed him to guide her out of the coffee shop to her own private tented accommodation.

He zipped the tent up and turned to look at her sitting on the camp bed. She couldn't meet his eyes again. He sat down beside her and gently cupped the side of her face and lifted it up towards him. Her cheek was damp with one solitary tear. The pad of his thumb gently brushed it away halting it's progress. She stared up at him as he caressed the side of her face with his thumb. She asked him, 'Are you sure you want . . .'

'Shhh, I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to,' he whispered before leaning in and brushing her lips with the soft inquisitive touch of his own. He paused judging that she was happy with the intimate contact and repeated the simple action. He brought her closer, sweeping his hands around her small waist, pulling her to him with need. Satisfied she wasn't able to retreat from the small enclosed space of his arms he kissed her again. This time he went deeper. She moaned against him.

He moved his hand up to the back of her neck. He splayed his fingers and supported her there for a moment, holding her in place. His free hand moved towards the small band that restrained her long deep chestnut hair. She never took it down and he'd imagined night after night what she would look like with it free and wild around her shoulders in his bed, underneath him. He ached to thread his fingers through it, feeling it's seductive silky sheen.

Kane tugged the band away and felt her hair tumble onto his hand and weave delicately between his fingers as he steadied the back of her head. He wanted her closer. He began pulling her further towards him and then stopped abruptly, remembering her injury and the sling.

'Help me take it off,' she begged kissing him once more. 'I want to hold you.' He smiled and carefully undid the sling. She flung her arms around him and held on tight. He entwined his arms around her and pulled her up to sitting to face him on his lap. Although she didn't speak there was heavy emotion in the way she clung to him. She was trembling. He realised that she wanted him to make her feel safe. He responded instantly, protectively folding his arms around her tight. He stroked her hair as she pressed her cheek against his own and waited patiently for her to rouse from her emotion.

To hold a woman this close after so long was more than a treat. She smelled so good. The scent of soap and peach invaded his senses. She was so warm against his skin. This was heaven. He kissed her forehead as she moved her hands to his face. She cupped his chin in her hands and bent to kiss him long and hard. He took his cue and began undoing the buttons on her shirt.

He took his time undressing her. He wanted every part of her revealed to him slowly so he could savour the moment. Stuck out there in that bloody heap of rock and desert she was a Godsend. There hadn't been anyone for a while and he wanted to take his time. His fingers carefully slid the shirt from her shoulders, feeling the first touch of her soft smooth pale skin. They hadn't stopped kissing. His lips didn't want to leave her mouth. It was though her taste was some sort of drug he couldn't get enough of. He wanted more and more of her. But he made himself pause to look down at her body as he unveiled it.

He gently pulled her shirt down over her arms, careful of the bandage over her gunshot wound. He found himself holding his breath as he spread his fingers up her bare back to the catch on her bra. His gaze fell to her breasts and the full voluptuous cleavage as he undid the catch and pulled the bra from her arms. Their dark peaks thrust up towards him beckoning him to delay his touch no longer. Without further hesitation he curved his hands neatly around her breasts taking their weight, testing their heaviness. He curled his finger tips around one of the dark peaks and gently tugged it.

She threw her head back allowing him better access to her breasts. He squeezed, kissed and pinched the dark peaks with his teeth sending her into a frenzy. He couldn't help wondering how long it had been since she was last touched by a man in this way. The idea of any man touching her other than him created a spark of jealousy. He wanted her all to himself. It made him play harder and his hold on her breasts became a little harsh, possessive, almost cruel. His mouth was relentless, taking as much of the fleshy pink mounds in his mouth as he could, his teeth grazing her nipple sharply - pulling it taut. Her response was overwhelming. She gave a small pleasurable cry and pulled impatiently at his clothes.

He swept his hands around and up her back once more and lifted her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist not wanting to let go at first, pushing herself against his hardness. It was almost too much. He set her down firmly on her feet and tugged aggressively at the belt on her trousers. He just about ripped the buttons from them and pulled them down taking her underwear with them. His hands settled on her hips feeling the shape of her slim sumptuous curves with an intense pleasure. He pulled her to him roughly and caressed his fingertips over her full round buttocks surveying them with admiration.

One hand remained there whilst another slipped between her thighs. She was damp already when he stroked his finger between her lips. He rolled her clit between his fingers and pinched it. A flood of juicy liquid coated his fingers in response. Satisfied she was almost ready and prepared for him, he stroked his middle finger around her entrance in a tantalising teasing gesture. She grew softer, wetter, making her lips full and plump. Just the way he wanted her. To give her a taste of what was to come he stopped teasing her and thrust his fingers inside as deep as her body would allow. At the same time he probed her mouth, wrestling her tongue for dominance. He made sure the kiss was long and deep, as long and deep as his fingers moving inside her.

His wove his hand through her hair and grasped it as he deepened the simultaneous action further. He wanted her to feel consumed by him, to know that after tonight she was his and belonged to no one else. Her breath was coming in short eclectic gasps telling him of her pleasure and high arousal. Rebecca Eaton might have been a free independent spirit that allowed no man to control her in her day job but in bed it was a different story. She both needed and wanted to be firmly handled. He was more than happy with that paradox.

He withdrew his fingers but still covered her mouth and swept his palms over her bottom to cup each half. He squeezed her painfully tight and lifted her up into his arms once more. Again she wound her legs around him, impatiently pressing herself against him. He laid her down on the bed and tore at his clothes.

He considered that he was mounting a goddess as he lowered himself down on top of her. Her hair was lying tousled and curled around her shoulders. Those green eyes were satiated in glistening moisture and hooded. Her deep ruby lips highlighted against her pale skin were plump and full, mirroring those between her thighs. He took hold of her waist and then ran his hands down to her hips gently squeezing his hold. It's effect made her tilt her pelvis and her back upwards, thrusting her breasts and body up towards him. She was inviting him inside. She was awe inspiring, a beautiful siren. He wanted her now.

His first thrust was hard and sharp. Her deep pleasurable gasp told him she was appreciative. Her hands reached up to smooth over his muscled arms and down his back as he made the same rhythmic hard strokes inside her. Her pelvis rode up to meet him. He reached deep as her breathing gave him every indication she was ready to explode. In a mad moment he pulled her up to sitting with him, still heavy inside her. He wanted to be deeper. She sat against him rocking her pelvis to his dictated rhythm. He lowered her back over his arm and took her mouth prisoner to muffle both of their cries as they came together.

Beads of moisture lined her forehead when he gave her one final kiss before allowing her mouth to be free. She smiled in pleasure at him, raising her eyes to mimic her glee. He grinned and lowered her back down on the small uncomfortable camp bed. It was difficult to lie next to her but he turned on his side and just about hung off the edge as he determined to master the task. He covered them both with the blanket on top of it and cradled her against him under his arm. She turned towards him pressing her lips to his chest. He looked down at her and pulled her just a touch closer feeling that urge to be protective of her well stronger inside him. She was flushed. She looked happy. There was more life in those eyes than normal. He was taking a risk just being there with her . . . if he was caught . . . but it was more than worth it.

'I love being here with you, even squashed on this small camp bed in the middle of this desert with a ferocious enemy all around us. It all adds to the excitement,' she joked.

He grinned, 'Really, I hadn't noticed you like danger Rebecca.'

'Yes OK, but you make me feel safe,' her voice turned serious. 'I don't ever really feel safe. I know it is an odd thing to say but I don't. Whenever I am with you or even just knowing you're nearby I feel warm and safe.'

He smiled down at her, bemused and delighted all at the same time. He stroked her hair and kissed her forehead. But she reached up and found his mouth again. She pressed her damp body against his thigh and wound her hand around his length and squeezed. He was hard once more and she wanted him inside her again. As he rolled on top of her he decided that making love this time would be slow, deliberate. It would be about coaxing her into submission and binding her to him. There was no way he was letting her just walk away from him. For some reason this small curvy journalist was giving him all the signals that she was the one he'd been searching for. No way was she escaping.

Famous last words.

The Organ Grinder

Hi Everyone,

Here is chapter two of The Organ Grinder.  Hope you enjoy it.  Would love your comments.

Best Wishes.

Sara


Chapter Two



Charles gave him the lowdown on the plane, filling in the blanks left out by Harker and a copy of the medical report on Rebecca's injuries. It made tough reading. Kane had meant to read it objectively, keep his distance from the anger. He wanted to pretend that he didn't know the woman it talked about. But his attempt at professional indifference failed. A number of things hit him. First, she had clearly been interrogated, and not by terrorists. There was too much evidence of systematic torture, techniques for getting information used by the Southern Bundenese Army: he'd done his homework.

The Bundenese Liberation Army, or BLA, were out and out terrorists who took their hostage's heads or limbs depending on the warning they wished to send out to the world. The punishment always fit the crime. The torture detailed in the report represented the government's army. It was methodical, clinical – they had even used condoms when they had raped her. Rape was a standard interrogation practice used on both women and men by the Southern Bundenese army and others around the world. The terrorists would have simply taken her head.

Rebecca had been beaten, and cut with a knife on her chest area and arms. It looked like the torture had lasted several hours. But it appeared she had held up well. I don't expect anything else from you, Becca but I wish for your sake you had given it up, whatever it was you were hiding. What the hell was it that made you risk your life? Get beaten and raped for? Who the hell were you protecting? Can't be Somwan. Something that she told you that affects others? Has to be! You are always championing somebody's cause but your own. For once I wish you would think of yourself.

He looked at the photograph of her face taken whilst she slept. He touched the image gently with his fingers feeling anger knot inside him, tightening his whole frame rigid. There was bruising to her face, forehead and jaw and she sported one black eye. The only anomaly in the report was that her stomach and back area had been untouched. In fact all areas near her surgical wound were clear of injury.

The report surmised that the beating had taken place before the surgery. That would mean that she had been considered as being a kidney donor before the interrogation. He'd heard the tales of kidney stealing and organ selling scare stories from around the world. Don't they have to run tests to make sure it is worth taking the organ? Compatibility tests? Would they really just take it? Not likely. She's been ear marked as a donor. Maybe before she left the UK? Doesn't make any sense. Too many bloody questions to answer. I hope you get your memory back Becca.

He loosened his tie and glanced once more at the report he held in his hand with distaste. He put it down on the table in front of him and found himself staring at it. The anger he had been trying to control and swat down for days was getting harder to control. He wasn't just angry at the bastards who had done this to her, but also at Rebecca for putting herself in that position in the first place.

If he had been anywhere else but on an aeroplane he would have punched the wall and let some of the frustration loose. He'd never felt like this before, not even when his ex-wife walked out of the door after only six months of marriage. He had just felt relieved. I hate fucking flying. Aren't we there yet?

He made a concerted effort to look around, not at the report. But it kept drawing his obsessive attention back. He kept focusing on key words on the front cover. They disturbed the order of his thoughts, triggering off his imagination – laceration, rape, violation. He ran his hand over his face in frustration and decided to order a drink from the co-pilot who attended them. He hadn't allowed any unnecessary crew on the flight. He wanted to down the brandy in one go and order another one but he forced himself to be patient. Besides he needed to be alert the moment he stepped off the plane.

He looked out of the window wishing it was land he saw and not fluffy white clouds or the sun glinting off the wings blinding him. 36,000 feet. Jeez I am stuck in this tin can at 36,000 feet feeling like I am going to blow my top any moment. I need another drink. No. Hell Rebecca, I know more than anyone just how tough you are, but how are you going to pull through this one on your own?

He took another gulp of his brandy, starting to worry about what mental state he would find her in when he got to Kamol, the closest city to the border with South Bundhara. The Rebecca Eaton who stole his heart almost two years ago when she came to Afghanistan to do a special programme on the Royal Marines fighting the Taliban was a tough class act. She had even left his own men in awe. She risked her life to get to the truth and make damn sure the whole world knew about it. The programme won her a BAFTA. Some of the men in the tank corps even named a tank after her, said it would bring them luck and, funny enough, so far it had done.

He put his glass down on the table only to see it jump in the air as the plane shuddered and dipped with unexpected turbulence. I so wish I could get pissed. Get a grip. You are a decorated officer, an ex Royal Marine who has faced death countless bloody times and you are afraid of a stupid plane ride? Give me the enemy to fight any day. I don't want to die a pointless death in this metal coffin where I can't do anything to save my life. Relax, remember when you first met her.

He discreetly checked his seatbelt and pulled it a little tighter. He sat back in his chair and stretched out his long legs in front of him and closed his eyes, trying to ignore his obsessive need to be alert to every damn different noise the plane made. He sank back into the past. It was cliché but he remembered the day she walked into his life just like yesterday.

He was never any good at loving people. He always got it wrong. Someone always got hurt and in this case it was Rebecca. He had been moaning to his fellow officers in the tent that passed for a mess hall about being assigned to supervise a visiting journalist in Helmand Province, Camp Bastion. Yet everyone he'd moaned to was envious when they found out who the journalist was – Rebecca Eaton.

He'd heard of her, seen her on TV a few times. Yeah she was pretty, but reckless, dangerous. Every time he saw one of her reports she always seemed to be in the thick of it, bombs going off all around her. Everyone was starry eyed but he didn't trust journalists and it was dangerous having them on the front line. She might have proven too much of a distraction for his men. Still his CO overruled him.

'We need all the good press we can get, Kane. She is an army favourite. She was instrumental in getting the government to pay attention to the lack of kit the men had out in Iraq that was costing lives. She shouts loud and gets results. We need her to show the good old folks back home what a bloody good job we are doing out here on their behalf, show them their tax money is being well spent. Get used to it Kane.'

Kane would never forget the way the men around him reacted when she came to introduce herself. But it wasn't on the same scale as his own reaction. Thank God he was more practised at hiding his feelings than the rest of them. A destructive failed marriage tended to make it a far easier task. He wasn't going to let any woman get the better of him again. Still, he was pleasant, although non-committal and slightly aloof. As far as he was concerned she would consider him a closed book. He made sure of that. But just like the rest of them he was hypnotised by those sparkling emerald eyes that shone mischievously at him. Those eyes that told him he was trapped, that she knew his game despite his rather cool subdued reception of her. He knew that was one of the things that gave his attraction to her away. She always liked a challenge she'd told him later. His eyes always communicated his feelings whether he liked it or not, she'd also said. They betrayed him every time.

She was quite small, 5"3 or 5"4? Funny, she'd looked taller on the screen. She was clearly trying to meld in, be one of the boys with her outfit in a large desert-coloured shirt and trousers. But there was no way she could hide those tantalising sumptuous curves. No, she had him hooked and she knew it. All of his attempts to avoid her net and keep her distant only seemed to make her more determined to reel him in. The more she tried, the more he wanted her and the more he slipped up. It was all leading to an inevitable conclusion. He hadn't expected it to kick off on the front line. Not on the day she was shot.

They were out on an operation to move the Taliban out of one of their strongholds. She was talking to the camera, crouched low behind a wall with him as they began shelling the enemy. He wondered how she could concentrate with all the noise going off all around her. It had to be distracting and frightening, even for her. But she remained coolly professional. She never failed to impress him. She was doing a damn good job of telling the public just what he and his men had to face every day on the front line. She'd done her research, knew their situation and the political situation inside out. She had got to know his men, capturing their thoughts and feelings on the war. He admired her for having the guts to come out there and put her life at risk.

The enemy was firing on both sides. She was down, squashed against the wall telling Jed and her director to do the same. Kane told her to follow him and crawl with the rest of his men along the ditch between the wall and a field full of maize that was providing them with flimsy cover on the other side. She'd kept up with him, only pausing to relate what was happening to the camera or to tell Jed to get down. The man was often a damn nuisance trying to catch every angle of the fighting.

She kept asking him questions about what was going on around them and his next intentions. She really was the original grace under pressure. The only indication he got of any fear was a slight tremor in her voice.

They headed towards a small shell of a building he knew wasn't far off. It should have been safe enough for them to take shelter there. They finally made it after being face down in the dirty, watery ditch, being under almost constant fire from the enemy. Miraculously, no one had been hurt, maimed or killed for a change.

The small building wasn't much of a comfort. Four walls and a partial roof afforded little cover, but it would have to do until air support could arrive. He had instructed Sgt Major Slater to radio for it when there was a sudden lull in the gunfire. He remembered feeling suspicious. He looked all around. He'd known something was coming that day. He'd felt it all morning. Then it came, a shot, straight in Slater's arm, then another in his stomach, a third in his chest as he radioed for the air support. Shit. Snipers.

One of his men shouted, 'Incoming.' An explosion shook the ground nearby. Thankfully, it had missed it's intended target, them. He turned quickly to find one of the enemy on top of what was left of the roof. One of his officers was leading Rebecca and the others under cover when he was shot and killed. They were surrounded. Kane killed the man on the roof before he could take anyone else out and ordered Rebecca and her crew to stay behind two of his own men firing over one of the walls. He and Lance Corporal Adler cleared the covered part of the building killing two of the enemy.

He ordered Rebecca and co to the shelter of the wall. He remembered hearing the Taliban rustling through the maize towards them, ready to storm the building. His heart was pounding so hard that day. He had an extra responsibility: three civilians who were relying on him for protection, which he took very seriously. Slater was still alive – barely – groaning in pain. Two of his men moved to bring him under cover helped by Rebecca who was doing her best to be of assistance, even though he knew it was futile. He'd gotten good at predicting death by this point.

As they moved they came under more fire. They never made it under cover. He pushed Rebecca behind one of his men under the wall that surrounded the half demolished building. They were in real trouble – this was an ambush. The intel had been crap, but then the Taliban were always relaying false info, knowing the allied forces were always tapping into their communications. One of his other men was radioing for air support, taking up where Slater left off, relaying their position. They were all pinned down behind the wall.

He sent three of his men to head off the enemy through the maize and concentrated on firing at those over the wall. Jed was still filming, the camera trained on Rebecca as she did her best to help Slater. She was wrapping the special bandage she had been given in her kit around one of his wounds. She also gave Slater the morphine injection she was instructed to carry, her fingers shaking as she did so. He wanted to tell her to save it. Slater would be dead in a minute. But by now he had learned that Rebecca would have chided him and never given up trying. It was what made her so strong and yet vulnerable all at the same time.

Kane glanced at Jed panning the camera around to himself and his men. The director was pinned against the wall, too terrified to move his backside and help with anything. Where the fuck was air support? The medic that Rebecca was assisting was shot in the shoulder and nicked in the top of his leg as two of his other men were also injured. That left only him protecting their position behind the wall. He couldn't see the enemy. There were too many men down. Everything was going pear shaped for the first time in his illustrious career in the Royal Marines. He looked at Rebecca, weighed her up and made a decision.

'Eaton,' he snapped, commanding her attention instantly above the noise of the gunfire. 'Get over here now, next to me. Looks like you get to be soldier for a day. You remember the compulsory training you were given before they would let you come out here? You remember how to fire a rifle?' He grimaced as he remembered the condescension in his voice.

She had nodded furiously, ducking her head to avoid a stray bullet.

He shouted to the badly injured medic, 'Corporal Tate, give Eaton your weapon.'

Kane watched her stare at it with fear before she crawled over to take it. He saw Tate give her a wary expression. Jed had the camera trained on her the whole time. Kane ignored it, this was a matter of life and death, no time to argue. Male manners, rightly or wrongly would have made him pick Jed to take the weapon because he was a man, keep Rebecca right out of it. He knew it was old fashioned to women but it was just the way he was wired. Not this time though. Instinct told him that Rebecca was the one he could trust to come through for him.

He kept returning fire, after hearing his two men he'd sent to flush the enemy out shout their positions to him. There were four of them. His men went to deal with two of them in the north east position, leaving Rebecca and himself to deal with the two directly in front of them. He felt Rebecca brush his arm as she settled in beside him and positioned the rifle over the wall. He glanced at her, seeing the mental concentration tense her face as she remembered what to do. She was quiet, waiting patiently for his order. He hoped he was doing the right thing. She looked as white as a sheet and for a brief moment he thought she might baulk out. He quickly told her where to aim. He checked once more.

'Are you sure you remember what to do, Eaton?'

'Y..yes. I was a good shot.'

'Show me.'

The enemy had moved onto the roof of an opposing ruined building. Rebecca started to fire at them with him. At first her shots went all over the place, probably because her hands were shaking so much. He made short work of dispatching one of them. But the other made a direct shot that caught him in the top of his arm. Sly bastards. They weren't a dumb enemy. It passed out of his arm cleanly. It was a familiar pain. He'd been shot a couple of times before. He would survive.

He heard Rebecca swear low, unaware that he had been shot. She was frustrated at herself. He watched her take a breath and aim again. This time she proved she was a decent shot, catching the enemy in his shoulder. That was when he heard the fast roaring of the American jets come racing to give them air support. But they were still too far away to be of any use. He heard the medic shout, 'Slater's dead sir, he's dead.'

He tried aiming again but it was difficult with his injury. The damn enemy was moving in on their position. Rebecca was staring at the dead man who had fallen from the roof after Kane had killed him. He would never forget her face under the large helmet that almost hid it. She wore an expression that haunted him to this day. It was a look of pain and futility that summed up the whole bloody war. He worried she would falter when he really need her. He urged her on and tried to fire again as she stared. He remembered thinking she was losing it. But he knew now that Rebecca Eaton never disappointed anyone in a moment of crisis. She always came through.

His shots were going off target and his arm felt slightly numb. Rebecca started firing again and this time she was better but the sniper was moving, coming dangerously close and she couldn't hit him. Kane knew that the man would be carrying a grenade. He had seen this all before. Rebecca was their only hope or they were all dead.

He remembered hearing Rebecca cry out making him wonder if she had been shot. But she was still trying to aim at the enemy who was doing his best to evade her shots and succeeding with ease. She just wasn't up to it. It wasn't her fault, she'd done her best. He'd obviously given her some sort of hopeless look of desperation because she returned it with one hell of a glare that told him that she wouldn't let him down. She took a deep breath, took time to aim correctly as the enemy came towards them. She fired once, missed, twice and caught him in the stomach. Brilliant. But he was still coming and holding up that grenade to throw into the compound. He told her firmly, 'Take him out'.

There was brief hesitation. He knew she was finding the realisation of the meaning of his words difficult to accept. He wanted her to kill the man. But a shot slamming into the wall near them convinced her of the necessity of what she had to do. She aimed and caught the enemy in a shot to the head. He hit the deck like a ton of bricks, arm still outstretched to throw the grenade. Kane quickly pushed her head down behind the wall and leaned over her as he shouted a warning to the rest of the men.

The grenade went off with a bang making her jump against him. Slowly, he lifted off her checking it was clear, and let her sit up. She coughed hard in the cloud of dust settling around them. He remembered rubbing her back and smiling at her. Unfortunately she couldn't return the smile. She went a shade of green he hadn't seen in a long time and turned away from him and threw up violently.

He laid a hand on her shoulder and kept rubbing her back, urging her gently to get it all up. She cried quietly in between bouts of sickness. He could feel her body convulsing with the strength of her emotion. It wasn't easy killing for the first time. That first death of war seemed to stick with you. Jed was asking if she was all right but at the same time telling her how fantastic she was and how he'd filmed the whole thing. Kane felt irritated that Jed was crowding her and told him to give her some air and keep back. That hadn't gone down well with Jed. He got the guy's trademark scowl that would have put most people in their place. But Jed was messing with the wrong man. Jed obviously had feelings for Rebecca and he was treading on the man's toes. Too bad. It was a shame because they had got on well with each other until Kane got involved with Rebecca.

She went quiet after a while. She sat still with her back to him, vainly attempting to hide her emotion. He made no effort to remove his hand from her back. He kept rubbing it in a soothing circular motion. She needed comfort. She made no effort to stop him as he patiently waited for her to collect herself. The other two men he'd sent to look for the Taliban returned safe after extinguishing the threat. They started to help the injured men. They couldn't move yet, air support was still clearing the area. When it was safe they would meet transport back down the road and get the injured taken back to the Camp.

Kane leaned in close to Rebecca and quietly asked her , "How are you feeling? Are you ready to move? We need to get everyone out of here and I am going to need your help again. You came through Rebecca, saved our asses.'

'I killed a man. I actually killed someone.'

He told her softly, 'Yes, you did but you saved a lot of people in doing so.'

'I am not sure I can get my head around that right now.'

'No you probably won't. When we get back I am going to have the counsellor talk to you about this.' She was silent. He noticed she kept her eyes from the body that was now in bits thanks to the grenade. He moved his arm to get a better look at his wound and asked one of his men to help him quickly tie a bandage around it. He asked her, "Did you get hurt? I heard you cry out?"

"No . . . I . . . don't know. I don't think so.'

Kane checked her arms not convinced. He hadn't seen any blood when he'd rubbed her back but she was holding one of them awkwardly. He gently took a closer look making her face him, carefully turning her right arm over. Sure enough she had been hit just above her elbow. She was obviously still numb from shock and adrenaline and couldn't feel it yet. Without a second thought he began ripping the material of her shirt sleeve up the middle. She looked at him confused.

He rolled up the remnants of her sleeve and looked down at the wound. She was lucky it was like his own. It had gone clean through but her wound was a touch deeper than his. She looked down at it wearing a mask of both interest and horror on her face. Suddenly Jed was in Kane's face trying to get a close-up on it. He bit his tongue realising this was part of Rebecca's job. She remained silent, trying to give the camera a brief smile. She was in shock and even Jed got the message. 'Jed I need your help, hold her arm, carefully. Keep it up while I get a bandage and some morphine.'

Thankfully Jed stopped filming and did as he was told. Kane searched for a bandage in his kit aware that Rebecca looked hot, pale and out of it. Now she knew the wound was there the pain was beginning to register in her brain. Her features pinched and she gasped with the sting. He wrapped the bandage around her wound tight and took care of her arm back from Jed telling him to help the others. He gave her the morphine injection and gently turned her arm back and forth checking his handiwork on the bandage.

She was still quiet. Only her tense features told him she was in a lot of pain. He moved his thumb along her wrist. It was absent minded, a comforting gesture as he watched her with concern for a moment. She raised her eyes and stared at him with warmth. Her features were soft and although tears brimmed once more, she was making every effort to rein in her emotion and her reaction to the pain. She didn't make one complaint and did not mention the man she had just killed again. She was a strong woman. She'd demonstrated that from day one. That made her all the more vulnerable to Kane when she showed any emotion. It meant she felt it deeply and it was a wound she would carry with her always. It made him feel powerfully protective of her. He hadn't felt that way about a woman in a long time.

He asked her, 'Do you think you can move?' She nodded and started to rise to her feet. He rose with her and reached out to hold her arms when she wobbled. He steadied her. He frowned. 'I don't think you should walk. I will carry you.'

She'd cut him dead quickly. Snapped back at him. 'Don't you dare. I am fine. You need me to help you get the injured back. I am walking wounded. I don't need carrying Major Kane. I don't see anyone offering to carry you and you have the same injury.'

Kane remembered putting his hands on his hips and staring straight at her with irritation out from under his helmet. 'OK. Point taken. But you have just had one hell of shock. You had to kill someone and to be fair your injury is much worse than mine.' He pointed at her injured arm. 'It's bleeding badly and needs treatment. You are not used to these conditions, neither are you a trained soldier and prepared for the effects. You will most likely collapse. You are not immune, Ms Eaton, just because you believe yourself some kind of action hero. First time I was shot in the arm somebody had to carry me because I had the same dumb attitude as you. I bled so much I passed out. I do not wish that to happen to you.'

He kept a tight hold on his temper. He made sure he stayed polite, quiet and calm to soothe her rising anger that was more than likely provoked by the shock. In a roundabout way she was accusing him of treating her differently because she was a woman. He'd be wrong if he said it didn't influence him just a little but he knew the heat, the pain and the blood loss would all conspire to get her. It was simple. He was a lot stronger, fitter and more used to the terrain. It would affect her much more, like it or not.

'I am more than capable of handling myself. I can help.'

'I never said you weren't,' he said gently. 'But you are wobbling all over the place. Let me help you.'

'I said I can handle it,' she raised her voice making everyone turn and look.

She flushed with embarrassment and looked at the ground obviously unable to bear the silence that settled over the compound. He maintained his stance watching her intently, sympathetically, undeterred by the silence.

Her voice was lower when she spoke again. 'I don't need you acting like Captain Caveman and rescuing me. I am needed here. I can help. Now let me do so.' He shook his head at her but let her go, watching her sway and hobble over to the injured medic that Jed was trying to help.

He stared at her, hands still pressed against his hips. Captain Caveman? Isn't he the hairy guy with the club off that cartoon? Didn't he shout his name loudly every time he appeared? The one who always helped the female detectives he travelled with? Yeah, that was a great programme. Haven't seen that since I was a kid. Maybe I should get a shave.

He played along with her need to prove herself as good as the next man but kept a close eye on her. She was supporting the weight of one of his men around her shoulder. Jed was supposedly helping her, holding the soldier's other arm. But Jed was too busy fiddling with his camera and letting Rebecca shoulder nearly all of the weight. The soldier was in a hell of a lot of pain with two shots to his leg and Rebecca was doing her best to get him along the road. Her legs were shaking and she was ready to drop. He'd seen enough. He shouted to Jed to come and help with the injured he was supervising down the back of the line and swept the soldier's arm around his neck pulling the majority of the weight from her. It was a job well done, no dent to her ego or so he'd thought. But her disapproving look told him otherwise.

He ignored her. She was impossible but he had to admire her. She had both guts and staying power. Medics came running when they reached the transport and took the soldier away leaving them both free of their burden. He watched her move away and bend over putting her hands on her knees trying to catch her breath. He shouted for a medic. She started walking towards the truck refusing his offer of assistance.

She told him politely, 'Thanks but I can manage Major Kane.'

He let her walk past him. He shook his head at the pure concentration on her face at attempting an upright stance without the fatigue of pain. No way was she going to last on her feet. He remembered counting under his breath, one, two, three, four, five, as he picked up his pace following her. He was right behind her when her legs gave way. He heard her give a surprised cry as he bent and swept his arm around her legs on cue as she started falling. He hoisted her over his shoulder easily. His friend Tom ran past him carrying one of the injured men. 'Looks like I get to be Captain Caveman for real after all Eaton. Even though it means I have to drop a rank to do it. There is no shame in getting help.'

'Put me down. I can manage. You can't carry me, you are injured.' she told him drowsily.

'Stop struggling and relax. I am fine. I've done this before. There is no way I am putting you down. Besides you can't walk. Just enjoy the ride. Now I have got you to myself and you can't escape, how about telling me you will come out for a drink with me.'

'Are you asking me out on a date Captain Caveman?' There was amusement in her weary voice.

'I suppose I am.'

'Ok. I would really like that. But first I need to ask something. Is it all right if I pass out now?'

'I give you permission Eaton. You are safe with me. Get some rest I want you fit and well for our date.'

Before he finished his sentence he felt her body weight slump over his shoulders. She was out cold. He carried her to the transport vehicle quickly, really feeling the pain in his own arm now. She wasn't the only one ready to drop.

News

Hi Everyone,

Hope you all had a great Christmas and a very happy new year!  So what has 2011 in store for you?  I am working towards the publication of my gothic romantic victorian vampire novel, Knight Of Swords by Hellfire Publishing at the end of April.  It is the first in the Swords saga and all being well will be followed by Ace of Swords which is already completed.  The third novel, The Hanged Man is currently a work in progress and will in turn be followed by the final book yet to be named.  I will be showcasing chapters on my blog and website, http://www.saracurranross.com/ in the near future.

In the meantime I have decided to post some chapters of my self published action adventure, The Organ Grinder which is available at http://www.amazon.com/.  I am currently looking for a publisher for this novel and would be grateful to hear from any interested parties.  Hope you enjoy them.

Best Wishes.

Sara



THE ORGAN GRINDER

Prologue




Asia – North Bundhara border



The young British UN soldier watched an unidentified truck rumble along the broken pot holed track they called No Man's land. A suicide mission? The question rattled loud and fierce in his mind. He stepped out onto the road amidst the steady stream of refugees making their weary way to the precarious safety of North Bundhara. Part of his job was to assist their evacuation, the other to protect them with force if needed. The truck was swerving, scattering the rag tag band of people in its way to either side. The soldier aimed his standard issue SA80 rifle. He felt a strange cocktail mix of fear and excitement swirl noisily inside his stomach. At last he was about to see some action.

The truck stopped dead in front of him but still some distance away. He shouted at the frightened people to take cover and move away. Shrieks and wails of fear echoed all around him dispelling the quiet of the surrounding forest. Small, tattered clothed children were lifted from carts leaving bewildered horses wondering where their human loads had disappeared to. Everyone scuttled down the banks of the road to take cover. The soldier glanced to his side noticing that a North Bundenese soldier was now standing near, providing support.

The doors of the truck opened and two men got out. He couldn't make their faces out in the dimming light. The South Bundenese didn't take too kindly to people deserting their country for their decadent immoral neighbour. This could have been one of those army missions to round refugees up and execute them for treason. He shouted halt but his command was ignored.

The soldier felt his palms begin to sweat as the figures moved around to the back of the truck. He stretched his fingers along his rifle feeling them begin to tighten with tension. He repeated his command, this time with the intention to shoot if they did not obey him but his threat appeared idle. He knew that he had to make a decision.

It was so damn hot. He could smell the heat all over his wet body under his fatigues. Fixing his fingers more firmly on the rifle he took a couple of steps forward repeating his threat once more. He had to play it cool, firing was the last option. They were his orders. A trickle of moisture ran under his helmet, down his neck and onto his chest. It irritated his skin making him desperate to rub it away. The two men lifted something heavy out of the back of the truck and brought it around to the front. 'Make your mind up, make a decision. Shoot to kill or be killed. But what if I am wrong? What if it is the wrong call?' he muttered to himself under his breath.

The soldier's finger jumped on the trigger as they carried the bag between them and threw it on the ground not far from him. Only the realisation that it was a body bag stopped him firing. He guessed it was the same for the North Bundenese soldier who stood at his side. He tried asking them about the bag, but there was no reply. One of the men returned to the truck and brought out a round object in another bag. It was the shape of a football. The soldier's heart started to thud inside his chest louder than it had ever done. He had a bad feeling about this object.

His gut twisted painfully. His finger jumped once more on the rifle as the man took the object out of the bag and rolled it along the ground towards him. He froze. As it tapped against the toe of his boot he closed his eyes waiting for the anticipated explosion. It had to be a bomb. He hadn't expected his new career to end so abruptly and so soon. He looked down deciding to face his fate and found his football bomb was a bloody, jagged, decapitated head.



Chapter One



London – Docklands – Three days later



Dominic Kane sat in Anna Harker's penthouse office overlooking the Thames. He studied Harker as she leant against the front of her large ornate desk next to his chair, watching the news on the middle of three LCD TVs on the wall ahead of her. She was now in her late sixties and was one of the most powerful noises in the British and global media. She was a strong ruthless businesswoman who didn't suffer fools. At twenty seven she had run the small press Dolls House Publishing and later bought it from its owner when he was financially ruined. By the age of forty she owned a string of successful newspapers and publishing companies and turned her attention to cable networks. This was the woman who fought off a massive takeover bid of her holding company Turnstile Communications from her hospital bed when the vultures smelt death last October.

She was also the woman famous for being attacked one night in Central Park and successfully fighting off her assailant, armed only with an umbrella, at the age of sixty-three. A fierce supporter of human rights and the abolition of violence against women, Harker wasn't afraid to speak out and cause a stir. She was a powerful woman and needed to be handled with great respect.

She was still a good looking woman. Her appearance was immaculate, crisp and clean in her black suit. Her blonde hair was cropped in a no nonsense short bob and her attractive hazel eyes told Kane that she knew more about him than he was comfortable with.

He turned to watch the screen once more. ATM's newsreader Monty Turner was serving up the latest on their missing star correspondent. She had been found at the North Bundenese border less than twenty-four hours ago. She had been making headlines all around the world since her disappearance in South Bundhara three days ago, straining the tense relations between Britain and the US who were threatening air strikes and retaliation if South Bundhara decided to make good on its threat and invade North Bundhara.

Another glance at Harker's face told him of her concern for Rebecca. Kane had done his research. Rebecca wasn't just another employee of her channel, ATM, she was one of Harker's friends. Harker was almost a replacement mother figure and like him she had been listening to the harrowing rumours of torture, rape and other physical crimes forced on Rebecca's body. The woman looked ill with worry. He turned his attention to the screen once more, back to the interview with the UN soldier who had found Rebecca. It was the sixth time he had seen the report.

'She was just walking along the road behind some of the refugees. She looked out of it. I didn't recognise her at first. When I ran up to her she backed off. She tried to make a run for it down the bank into the trees. I am sure it was my uniform that made her frightened. I took off after her and brought her back. She was so dazed she didn't even know her own name.'

'And what condition was Rebecca in? I mean, was she injured? I am sure you realise how concerned we are at ATM,' one of the correspondents crowding around him jostling for position asked. Kane watched the soldier smile and nod, clearly loving the limelight.

'Yes of course I do. She was exhausted, dehydrated, I guess. She had obviously been beaten and she was clutching at a wound on her left side that was bleeding. She collapsed in my arms. She has been taken to hospital now.'

The interview continued to play but Harker talked over it. She spoke suddenly, the emotional strain clearly audible in her voice this time. 'I want you out there.'

Kane simply nodded. Inside he was elated. 'I take it the rumours are true then?" he said carefully.

There was a pause from Harker. She turned to face him directly and he could clearly see tears brimming in her eyes. 'Yes, they are. She's been beaten, tortured, raped, starved . . .' Another pause. Kane noticed she took in a breath before she started again.

'And that's not even the worst. She's been cut open, operated on. One of her kidneys has been removed, stolen. She was butchered. It wasn't a neat job and from what the doctors can gather there were some intra-operative complications.' Harker raised her eyes to the ceiling and took another breath as she composed herself once more.

She continued, 'That's where the mystery comes in. Those complications appear to have been dealt with well, as though someone skilled intervened in the operation to tidy it up. But her surgical wound has become infected and the doctors are worried that she might develop pneumonia. She can't remember anything that has happened to her. She can't remember her own name or her past. Not even her family or friends.'

Harker paused, watching the screen once more, 'They call it dissociative fuge. It's some form of amnesia that occurs after a traumatic experience. And you will already know that an attempt was made on her life when she was brought into the hospital.'

Kane gave her a confused look as he noticed her eyes suddenly look down at his hands on the chair and widen with surprise. He followed her gaze. He felt his mouth tense. He was gripping the arms of the chair so tightly as she talked of Rebecca's injuries that his knuckles had turned white. He had betrayed himself and given the whole game away.

'I know you and Rebecca have a history,' she said eyeing him closely. 'Together. And I also know your parting wasn't exactly on amicable terms. But I can see that you obviously still feel something for her. I hope this won't be a problem and that you won't let it affect the way you do your job. I want her to have the best security money can buy. You come highly recommended from the powers that be.'

He felt uncomfortable. He made a conscious effort to loosen his hold on the arms of the chair. She was waiting for his response. She would be judging as to whether or not he was telling the truth. He was going to have to be careful. She wouldn't respect him for denying his feelings.

He spoke softly making sure he held eye contact with her. 'I don't allow my personal life to interfere with my work and I am not about to start now. I am flattered that you believe my company worthy of providing high calibre security, but I have to warn you I am not so sure this is the best for Rebecca. When her memory returns she is liable to be obstructive and distrustful of my presence.'

'Yes, I can more than imagine.' Her lips crinkled into a knowing smile. 'But I am also aware that you won't let that stop you. That is why you are sitting here now and why you got your stepfather's influential friends to recommend your company to me. I know that you have been planning to go out there anyway whether I chose you or not. From all reports, Mr Kane, you were packed and ready to go with a team to get her out of South Bundhara the moment you heard she'd disappeared. Unfortunately for you that proposed mission was stopped because there was already a team out there looking for her.'

He felt uneasy when she talked about his stepfather. It was the one and only time Kane had asked for his help. He hated the man who had wormed his way into his mother's life and taken it over. He had never needed anyone's help to get a contract for his company, Kane Security & Close Protection Services. But this was one job he didn't want to take his chances on. Rebecca's safety was worth the humiliation and condescension he'd had to take from the man. Still, Kane knew that his step father would do anything to get him on side for the sake of his mother and he had taken advantage.

He smiled and told Harker confidently,' I will bring her home safely.' The smile on Harker's face widened and then receded quickly. She nodded. She appeared convinced. He watched her return to her throne behind the desk. She carried her small frame awkwardly, shuffling her walk, a cause of recent surgery on her feet, the removal of a toe he'd heard, another effect of her crippling diabetes. She had been in and out of hospital recently and the rumour was she was living on borrowed time once more. The woman had no kids, no family to speak of, and he couldn't help wondering who would inherit her fortune.

He got his mind back on the job at hand and started gathering as much information as he could. He wanted to be aware of all the facts so he could arrange effective protection for Rebecca, so he started questioning Harker. His first question was the one burning a hole in his head, the one that had kept him awake night after night whilst he'd waited for any news of Rebecca. 'Why did she cross South Bundhara's closed border? What was so important that she had to take a risk like that? Why was she sent out there?' He made every effort to hide his frustration but he could hear it slip past the polite tone he used as a barrier to disguise it.

Harker sounded irritated, 'No one sent her anywhere, Mr Kane. Her little trip was unauthorised.' He wasn't the only one who was frustrated at Rebecca's latest reckless stunt to bring in the news.

Harker continued. 'No one knew apart from Jed, her cameraman.'

'Does she know about his death? That his decapitated head and body were found at the border?'

Harker squirmed and shuddered in her chair before she answered. 'No. I keep thinking that could have been her.' Kane bowed his head, the very idea making him feel nauseous.

'She and Jed made one hell of a team, Mr Kane, as I am sure you well know. She will take his loss very badly when she remembers. I believe they were once linked romantically. But Rebecca is a very private person, even with me. She likes to keep you guessing. Maybe you know more than me on that one?' He smiled and remained silent. He did and, yes, she was right, but he wouldn't betray Rebecca. There was obviously some reason why she hadn't told the woman. 'You are very loyal, Mr Kane.'

Harker sat forward, leaning her elbows on the desk and looking directly at him. She continued, 'I don't agree with the rest of the media that she was tortured by this Doctor Tasanee Somwan and her terrorist group, "The South Bundenese Liberation Army". I have been told that Doctor Somwan asked Rebecca to go out there and interview her. She would only trust Rebecca to present her peaceful request to the British government for their help. She had something to offer them. Besides, Mr Kane, MI5 intercepted the e-mails Somwan was sending Rebecca. They encouraged her to go, asking her to carry a message from the British government.' Harker shook her head with disbelief as she finished her last sentence.

'They gave her no support?' Kane asked.

'They said she had to go it alone. If they were seen to be involved in negotiating with a terrorist there would be political hell to pay for the government.'

It was almost a black op. Harker broke into his thoughts. 'I really believe it was the South Bundenese government who were holding her. I also believe Somwan told Rebecca and Jed something that was going to provoke the British and Americans into action and stop them sitting on the fence on whether to authorise air strikes. Anyway, I don't know what is going on and I want you to find out. I want whoever is responsible for doing this to Rebecca held accountable. Whatever it is she knows, the information is enough for them to want to kill her.'

'I have a plane and a team ready and waiting at Heathrow.'

'Good. I need you there, Mr Kane, as soon as possible. Hospital security is practically non-existent and the police that are guarding her are inadequate, hence the attempt that was so easily made on her life. I will have you flown from here to Heathrow by helicopter.' She sat back in her chair suddenly grimacing with pain. She turned pale for a moment making Kane wonder whether or not he should get help. But she waved her hand at him when he politely expressed his concern.

'I'm fine. The North Bundenese police don't exactly have the best reputation in the world. Apparently the custom is to offer a bribe if you want their co-operation – and they will be awkward in surrendering Rebecca's security to you. They will be loving all the attention from it. I am sending my personal assistant Charles with you. He will get you any funds you require. He will also handle the media.'

Kane wanted to object. He didn't want anyone else along for the ride. He was taking a large team of men out there, a bigger number than he would normally use, purely because he was unsure of what to expect. If a war did kick off he wanted to focus all of his attention on getting Rebecca out of the country not worry about another mark. But he nodded in agreement. The client was always King. He started to move from his chair to get on his way but she raised her hand making him sit back down again.

'There is something else you should know. There are some Embassy officials out there hounding Rebecca for information about her interview with Somwan. I am pretty sure they are MI5 trying to keep their involvement under wraps. They have managed to get the doctors to stop her medication to keep her lucid so they can pump her for information. She can't remember and she is in agony without pain relief.'

There was a fierce anger boiling through Harker's speech, displaying a hardness in her eyes. 'They are putting her at more risk of developing pneumonia. She could die, Mr Kane. It's nothing short of torture.'

He told Harker quietly, firmly, 'If I know Rebecca she will be giving them a hard time back. She is a fighter, she will hold up until I get there. They won't be allowed near her after that. I will personally make sure of it.'

A brightness slowly returned to Harker's eyes. 'I don't doubt it.'

The door opened making them both look up and turn towards it. A young man of Indian English descent came into the room. The man smiled at them both.

'Charles, come in. This is Charles Beaumont, my personal assistant. One more thing before you both go. Michael Eaton, Rebecca's brother is already out there. He left the moment she was reported missing. You never met him, I know . . . he may get in your way.' She raised her eyebrows and smiled with sarcasm as she spoke about Michael.

Kane got the impression that Michael Eaton was not one of her favourite people. 'He's the tall dark and handsome type, an internationally renowned cardio thoracic surgeon, who really believes he is something. Just like most surgeons in my experience. But he is a notorious womaniser and a gambler. He's arrogant and believes he always knows what is best for everyone, especially his sister when she is in trouble. He thinks he can look after her and get her home on his own. He won't trust her safety with anyone. Rebecca and he are very close, very protective of each other. I suppose you can't blame them. They are all they have, there is no other family. Did she ever tell you about her parents and what happened to them?'

'No. I knew that she had a brother she doted on but she always clammed up when I mentioned her parents.' Kane watched Harker with interest, always eager to learn something new about Rebecca. She had never given much away.

'Their parents were murdered in front of them when she and Michael were children.'

Kane stared hard at her.

'They were journalists, well the wife, Janice. She was an award-winning photographic journalist. They did a piece together on a Mafia sex-slave ring in 1981 and made some dangerous enemies. When the gunmen finished with their parents they went looking for Michael and Rebecca. She was only eleven, Michael was eight. She hid Michael and faced them alone. Michael told me – she would never tell me anything. They hit her several times but she wouldn't give up Michael's whereabouts . . . they tore the place up looking for him. But the Eatons lived in a large old cottage and there was many a nook and cranny. He could have been anywhere. Turns out he was right under their noses and could see everything that went on. They put a gun to her forehead . . .'

Harker recounted the tale with disgust now but her hard tone was punctuated with bitter emotion. Kane just felt numb as he listened in horror.

'Michael, he wanted to go to her aid but she had locked him in this vent or whatever it was . . . I don't remember . . . not that he would have been able to do anything. He watched the man holding the gun to her head pull back the trigger. He really thought she was going to die. He told me that he would never forget how courageous she was, how she faced her fate with dignity. Tears were rolling down her face but she didn't flinch with fear. To him, she was regal, serene, braver than he could ever be – he will never forget the way she protected him with her own life. I think he is in awe of her: it's the way he talks about her with such pride. If the police had been a second later in barging through the door she would have been dead. They shot the gunman dead and he fell on top of her. Michael said he remembers screaming with her and he is sure a part of him still is.' She paused for a moment before continuing, 'Michael will get in your way and try to control the situation. He won't trust anyone with her protection. He believes he owes her that much.'

Kane suddenly realised he was still staring at Harker. But he was looking through her. He was stuck in the scene she had described, watching Rebecca as a child facing death in the eye. He felt pain, loss, anxiety beginning to gain a strangle hold on him. It was the culmination of the fear he had experienced wondering if she was dead or alive. A reminder of how close she had come to death before he could make it right between them. He'd been wasting time. No more.

He was going to make her see that they belonged together before her job got her killed. He always said she had a death wish. Now he knew why. She had been repeating the same scenario over and over in her mind. She must have thought she should have died along with her parents. She'd been trying to get herself killed. She must have felt guilty about surviving. It explained so much about her. It was almost a textbook manoeuvre.

She was starting to make sense to him now. You are more messed up than I thought Rebecca. Trouble is, you never counted on the part of yourself you showed me, the part that is damned if it is going to let you kill yourself to prove a point. No more games. This is going to end. I am going to make you see sense whether you like it or not.

'Mr Kane, are you all right?' He raised his head quickly, jumping to Harker's attention. She gave him a sympathetic smile. 'I am sorry, Mr Kane. I should have been more careful how I told you. I can see how much you still care for Rebecca. Now I am even more convinced that I have chosen the right man for the job. She doesn't need some faceless security expert who will boss her around. She needs emotional support.'

Kane felt uneasy again. He shouldn't really go. He was too involved with Rebecca, albeit their relationship was in the past. It was unethical. He shouldn't be involved with the client, it stopped you doing an effective job. It made you careless. But then this wasn't any ordinary assignment and he was too stubborn and, dare he say it, arrogant to let anyone else provide her security. He was the only one he trusted with her life. He stood up fastening his suit jacket and moved to shake Harker's hand.

'I will call you when I have seen her.'

'Mr Kane, if Rebecca does not co-operate with you and fails to follow your instructions just tell her she is fired. When she gets her memory back that will help you to keep her under control and stop her from trying to sort this mess out on her own. We both know that is what she will try and do. It's too dangerous. Tell her I want her safe or she is out of a job and I mean it.'

He grinned and followed Charles. She'll love that!

The Vampire Lover's Diary (Work In Progress)

Here is the next instalment of The Vampire Lover's Diary.  Hope you like it.  I am going to take a break over Christmas.  Check out my publisher's blog at http://hellfireherald.blogspot.com/ and readers group, http://groups.yahoo.com/group/hellfirereaderspub/ where I will be able to chat to you about the publication of my victorian vampire novel, Knight Of Swords.

Merry Christmas & Happy New Year.  Hope you have a great holiday!

Sara

Thursday 23rd December 2010


I found myself going stir crazy today. My daughter Darcy is away staying with her father and his new wife until Christmas Eve tomorrow and I have been cooped up for days in the house on my own. The heavy snowfall hadn't exactly made me want to go out either.

I saw that man in the garden again last night. I know I am not imagining it now. I should never have looked out. It reminded me of that movie, Salem's Lot. You know when the boy opens his curtains at night after hearing a scratching sound at the window and finds his dead friend turned vampire floating at the window scratching his nails down it! Ugh. I couldn't open the curtains for two months after watching that movie as a teenager. Still not happy doing it. Huh and me a dark fantasy/horror writer. What gives???

I couldn't see his face for the shadows but I just had that feeling that he was looking up at me. Then he seemed to vanish. I heard a scratching at the back door and what sounded like the whining of a dog. I froze as the scratching got louder and louder. My heart began to thud. Somebody or something was definitely trying to get in.

My small spaniel, Puzzle went bananas barking and took off down the stairs to investigate and defend me from the would be intruder. It spurred me into action. I searched for something heavy and found my bronze lovers statute a friend had bought me for my birthday years ago. What a thing to hit someone over the head with. Still, it was heavy as hell and would do the trick should I need to go that far to protect myself.

The scratching turned into unmistakable clawing as I descended the stairs with weapon in hand. Heart thumping until I thought it might escape from my chest and run down the road I opened the locked door to the kitchen that Puzzle stood barking outside and ran through it. That's when I remembered Roman's card with his telephone number on. No, I decided I would prove that I could look after myself. My pride was still wounded from the other morning and there was no way I was calling him.

I ran into the laundry room off the kitchen with the dog and stood in front of the frosted glass door paralysed. I could see a large dark shape of animal. I know this sounds ridiculous but it looked like a wolf from where I was standing. I put my weapon of choice down on the floor and moved to the door and it's lock ready to confront it, all the time shouting for it to go away I was armed with a deadly weapon.

The door began to rattle and shake just like my body. I suddenly decided that opening the door might not be such a good idea and I began to step back scooping the dog up into my arms. I was paralysed waiting for whatever it was to come through the door. I would have rang the police but my mobile was upstairs and I couldn't move with fright. I felt doomed!

The door suddenly partially opened making me jump. I took another two steps back feeling tears in my eyes. I glanced down at the statute and picked it up. The door banged again and I gave a cry as I saw the black eye of a large wolf stare at me through the door. Just then I saw the tall shape of a man against the frosted glass. He lunged for the animal who whined. Frosty air blew through the door still holding on to its hinges and locks for dear life and the two figures disappeared.

Shocked I ran forward letting the dog go and pushed the open part of the door closed. I found some boxes I still hadn't emptied from my move and pushed them up against the door to keep it closed. I raced back upstairs putting on every light and climbed into bed with Puzzle and my weapon. I sat listening to every creak the house made with fear for hours. I debated whether or not to ring the police but what could they do and besides I doubted whether or not they would believe me. It was a nightmare. As though one of my gruesome books was coming to life!

Eventually I must have fallen asleep after consoling myself that it was just a dog trying to get in. A bloody large dog but nonetheless just a persistent stray. There was no way it was a wolf. It was dark I got it wrong.

I just wanted to get out in the fresh air and find some company especially after I examined the door and saw the huge claw marks down the back of it. I got my friend Susan's husband to come around and fix it for now. He was amazed and asked if I wanted to come and stay the night with him and Susan to recover from my fright but I declined his kind offer. Anyway, I took the dog for a walk.

I was coming out of the house all booted up and covered in layers, stylishly though I may add when I see Roman come out of the house with Connor and a man who looked exactly like him. They were carrying shopping in from the car. I didn't know he was one of identical twins! Double the fun!! Huh, double the trouble!

He looked over to me and caught my eye despite my best efforts to pretend that I had not seen him. He smiled widely and I returned it with a awkward nervous one of my own. I put my head down and tried to carry on but he began speaking to me and I was forced to stop and acknowledge him as he crossed the road with his brother and Connor. You may wonder how I could tell them apart. I couldn't really I was just going on who spoke to me as being Roman. He introduced me to his twin Julian and to Connor. We chatted about the good and bad points of having a twin and then he startled me my changing the conversation to about last night.

'How are you? I haven't seen you for a few days and I wondered if you were all right last night. All of your lights were on when I came in from the club at 3am,' he enquired in that melting dark chocolate voice of his. 'I couldn't help feeling concerned. There have been some burglaries in the area recently and a couple of women have been abducted from the streets in the Peachum village and one from her home at night. Please call me if you feel unsafe.'

Julian seconded his words, 'We look out for each other here, especially the ladies who live alone.'

My eyes widened with surprise. There was more than concern in both of their voices, there was fear for me. I had never heard about the abductions or the burglaries and I now wondered if I would ever sleep again. Still my stubbornness to prove I did not need a man to exist safely on the planet forced me to smile and say that everything was fine. I had just felt a little unwell. Something I had eaten.

Roman's beautiful dark eyes stared at me hard and I am sure I saw disbelief in them. Feeling guilty I made an excuse about wanting to walk the dog before it got dark and left with the promise that I would indeed come to the party on Christmas Eve.

I carried on down the street seeing one of my neighbours come out of her house and get into her car. She looked cross and paid me no attention when I called out to say hello to her. A man came out of the house behind her as she drove out of the drive. He bellowed at her, 'Where are you going? If you are going where I think you are . . . Claire, it's not safe . . . he won't listen to you.' But she was away and passing me by in her car.

I made my way on to the field and let Puzzle off the lead and took in a large breath of icy air. I trailed after Puzzle admiring the wintry landscape and the red plump berries on the holly laden down with snow. I carried on down the path that led to the woods. It was good to get out.

I called for Puzzle as I rounded a corner between the trees and prepared to find my way out when I stumbled on something. I fell flat on my face and landed hard on the frozen ground. I banged my head and when I tried to lift myself up I felt woosey and dazed. I tried to focus on what it was that tripped me up and to my horror found it was a woman's arm. I looked sideways with fright and found myself looking at the full on dead body of a woman.

There was blood everywhere but it was dry and caked. The smell was awful. Part of the young woman's face had been ripped away and it looked as though she had been savaged by a wild animal. I scrambled to my feet watching my world spin and then I heard a noise. With a gasp I turned to the trees behind me and could of sworn I saw a figure. More rustling in the undergrowth and the person was getting close. Terrified I looked around for Puzzle but she was nowhere to be seen. I saw a figure run from behind the tree towards me in a blur and I decided to make a dash for it in the opposite direction.

I could feel the person behind me and I didn't think I was going to escape. But I was brought to a sudden halt when I ran straight into a tall dark man. I looked up to find Roman Price holding me in his arms. That wasn't exactly how I'd planned to get in his arms but here we were. I felt woosey again and had difficulty in focusing. I sank but he held me up asking me what was wrong? And how did I get the cut on my forehead?

I told him all I could as he cradled me warmly in his arms gentling me with words of reassurance that I was safe with him. His fingers swept around the side of my face to tilt it to one side and examine the cut.

'We must let Julian take a look at that. He's a doctor,' he turned to his son who was standing at his side looking at me with shock. 'Connor, I want you to stay with Amanda and don't let her leave. It is very dangerous for her to be alone. Do you understand?'

'Yes, father. I won't let you down.'

'Good.'

Roman made sure I could stand and then disappeared in the direction of the body. I suddenly remembered Puzzle. I called her name but she was nowhere to be found. Distressed I wanted to go and look for her but Connor caught my arm when I tried to leave.

'No, you must not go anywhere. You will be safe here with me,' he commanded with a bit too directness for a child his age.

'I appreciate your concern , Connor, but I am worried about my dog. I will be fine. Let go.'

'I can't. You are in danger . . .'

His grip tightened. I couldn't have moved if I wanted to.  I was about to remonstrate with him when Roman returned carrying Puzzle. He handed the dog to Connor and took firm hold of my arm from Connor. He nodded with approval to his son before a speaking to me.

'Let's get you home and call the police. I want Julian to have a look at your injuries and you need a drink,' he told me softly slipping his other arm around my waist. 'Then you are going to tell me exactly what terrified you so much last night and I am not going to listen to any of your excuses to avoid talking about it. There is a dangerous predator on the prowl who has his eyes on you and Julian and I are the only ones who can protect you from him.'


Evening

I am at home and the police have just been. Roman has taken command of the whole situation. Not sure I approve but then I feel too sore to object and its quite nice somebody wants to take care of me for a change. Julian is in the kitchen cooking my tea. I can't believe it. I can't remember the last time a man cooked for me. It feels kind of cosy and I do feel more safe knowing they are here but Roman has been looking at my back door and I think I am about to get the third degree about last night again.

He is like a dog with a bone between his teeth and I have begun to feel as though I am being interrogated. I don't think he believes my story about it being a dog. In fact he raised his eyebrows with impatience and shook his head. And he is still yet to explain why only he and Julian can protect me from this so called predator. Scary chat up line if I ever heard one. Oops, better go he wants my attention. He's giving me a rather sexy do as your told for your own good and don't push me look. Will write later.

The Art Of Retaliation (Work In Progress)

Here's chapter seven of The Art Of Retaliation.  I will post another instalment of The Vampire Lover's Diary tomorrow.  Hope you enjoy it!


Chapter Seven


I hurried down the stairs relieved to see my brother. He opened his arms and embraced me before I reached the end. He lifted me to the ground and held me tightly.

'Pamela, I was so worried. Has he hurt you?' Andrew enquired with genuine concern.

'No, on the contrary I have been treated with the hospitality. I am so glad you are here . . .'

'Where is Kate?' Lord Ramsay demanded with impatience, interrupting our conversation as he descended the stairs.

Andrew brought me to his side and gripped my hand tightly.

'I have not brought my wife,' Andrew informed my kidnapper raising his fair head to smile triumphantly at him.

I tried to move from him in an outrage but he would not let go of my hand and increased his grip until I gave a gasp of pain.

'You married her?' Lord Ramsay did not appear to expect an answer. His words were more of an angry exclamation.

'I did the moment I knew you had kidnapped my sister.'

There were no further words to be spoken. Lord Ramsay was filled with the same rage I had seen him entertain Lord Simon with in my room. He lunged at Andrew from the stairs forcing my brother's hold on my hand to loosen. He pushed him back against the wall by the lapels of his coat and held him there.

'Have you consummated the marriage?' He demanded to know.

Andrew dared to laugh.

'No, my wife is incapable of making love at present. But I am sure we will find away to ensure consummation takes place,' Andrew riled. 'Her constitution is too weak and sickly. Sometimes she seems out of her wits and quite mad. I wonder if I might have to lock her away in one of those new asylums. I do not believe she will be my life companion for much longer. She is in such poor health.'

'Andrew, how can you be so hurtful and cold?' I asked him horrified by his callous words.

Both Lord Ramsay and Lord Simon had spoken the despicable truth about my brother. The gambling had made him change. He was no longer loving but self serving and ready to hurt to achieve his devious ends to raise more capital for pursuing his addiction. Why had he not come to me for help or sisterly counsel? We used to share everything. I no longer knew who he was to me.

Lord Ramsay raised his fist and struck my brother with force against the side of his face. I winced but I warrant he deserved it. I was ashamed of our family connection.

'You can take out your frustration on me as much as you wish, Peter, but I hold all of the cards,' Andrew gruffly told Lord Ramsay. 'I have a proposition . . .'

'No proposition. I have your sister in my power,' Lord Ramsay threatened. 'Bring my sister back to me so I can arrange for an annulment to the marriage or I will give Pamela to Lord Simon for a bride sale.'

Andrew became violently angry and began struggling with Lord Ramsay. I became distressed wanting to separate them but Lord Simon caught my arms and pulled me back against him. I shivered in his hold and he gave a small chuckle. I felt his lips brush the side of my cheek to soothe my inconsolable fear and began to struggle for my freedom.

'I will bring back your sister unsoiled if you give me a sum of money to pay my creditors and satisfy my needs. I will also want my sister back. I will not see her ruined with that man,' Andrew instructed with disgust in a lull in his fight with Lord Ramsay.

'Your first thought should be for your sister's protection, yet all you can think about is how much money you can obtain for your crime. You do not deserve, Pamela.'

'But from what I have seen of your interest in her, you believe you do. When you return my sister I expect her virtue in tact or you will pay a heavy price.'

'No doubt in money. What kind of a man would place a price on his sister's virginity?' Lord Ramsay snarled striking out at my brother and catching him low upon the jaw. The compliment was returned with a swift blow from my brother.

I closed my eyes feeling the pressure of humiliation weigh heavy upon me. I wanted to run from the scene appalled by the control my brother and Lord Ramsay executed over my fate. A woman's lot was not a happy one. But Lord Simon was to hold me still as the fighting escalated across the hall.

'Why do you not stop their fighting?' I questioned Lord Simon with sharpness.

'It is good for Peter to rid himself of some of his anger. Who better to take it out on than your brother. Does he not deserve such treatment?' Lord Simon whispered in my ear.

I leaned away from him but I was to find no escape. I glanced at Lucinda who appeared senseless of her brother's fighting and more preoccupied with Lord Simon's attentions to myself. She wore a petulant scowl that distorted her handsome dark features.

'He does not just fight for his sister but he fights for you, Pamela.'

I trembled as Lord Simon moved to wind his arm around my waist and pull me backwards and closer to him until I rested against his chest. His fingers stroked the length of my throat as he unashamedly watched the two men continue to fight. I felt tears of fear sting the back of my eyes. I tightened my composure so that I might bear Lord Simon's touch without allowing them to spill and display my weakness.

'He is in love with you, Lady Dashwood. He will pay your brother not only to ensure his sister's safe return but to protect you from me,' he continued to whisper. 'But he will be defeated and I will make you my bride even if I have to carry you off over my horse and tie you up to get you to the altar. I will do whatever it takes. I have never seen such a strong attractive beauty as yours and I must have you. In time you will come to learn that I am the right man to tame your spirit with marriage and motherhood.'

'You flatter yourself. I will not be broken and forced to your will. I will do my worst to stop you. Let me go.'

Lord Simon's hand spread across my throat and squeezed making me fight for breath.

'Your lesson in wifely obedience and punishment starts now, my darling,' he told me with cruel humour.

I heard Lucinda give a groan of impatience and flounce off. I continued to struggle for my breath as Lord Simon tightened his hold. To my relief Lucinda was to quickly return with three young sturdy men from the kitchen and stables. The fight was brought to a swift end and both my brother and Lord Ramsay were to be held apart from each other. But to my dismay Lord Simon would not lessen the pressure on my throat and my tears were now beginning to brim over.

'Pay me the money and your sister is yours again,' Andrew shouted.

'I'll give you what you want when you return Kate unharmed. Now get out. James throw him out,' Lord Ramsay ordered to one of the young men who was only eager to comply.

Lord Simon removed his hand from my throat as Lord Ramsay shrugged off the hold of the men that held him back from Andrew. He stood straightening his attire and turned his attention towards me on hearing me cough hard as air travelled into my lungs once more. He looked down at Lord Simon's hold upon my waist and narrowed his eyes darkly. He walked with purpose towards us. He took hold of my hand and drew me protectively to his side in one violent movement. Thankfully, Lord Simon did not offer him any resistance and simply laughed heartily.

'I told you to keep away from her,' Lord Ramsay told him menacingly.

'Someone had to hold her back. She was all ready to stop your fight and she may have been harmed.'

I continued to cough and rub at my throat. Lord Ramsay looked upon me quizzically and then he saw the red marks upon my throat. I felt the depth of his anger as he glared in Lord Simon's direction.

'What did you do to her?'

Lord Simon opened his arms in a mocking innocent gesture.

'I did nothing. I believe she is ill again. Perhaps she should be put to bed.'

'Perhaps I should make you answer for your treatment of her.'

Lord Ramsay started towards Lord Simon but I pulled him back and shook my head.

Lord Simon smiled, 'Oh please not another fight. It is all you seem to do nowadays, Peter. You used to be so much fun, so much more reckless. Besides you should treat me with more care. I am the catalyst for making Andrew return your sister. Without my presence there is no threat for him.'

Lord Ramsay made to go towards him again but I begged him to stop and pleaded with Lord Simon to leave. He bowed and with an ungracious wicked laugh departed. Lord Ramsay's cool gentle fingers were examining my tender red throat before I could raise an objection. He trembled with anger.

'I should kill him for this,' he told me loudly. 'I have let you down again.'

'You should kill no one. I am fine. At least your sister is to be returned. You were right about my brother. I do not know him anymore. I am sorry for the trouble he has caused both yourself and your family. Soon I will be gone and you can put this tragic matter behind you.'

I moved away feeling a great weary tiredness consume me.

'I don't want to . . . that is I don't want to put you behind me. I . . .' Lord Ramsay began.

I hushed him.

'Please you heard my brother,' my voice was downcast. 'There can be nothing between us and you cannot save me from Lord Simon. He will continue to pursue me and I fear I will need to leave for pastures new to escape him once I am free. Now please, if you don't mind I feel a little unwell again and should like to return to my room.'

I turned on my heel and hurried to the stairs but he was to catch my hand.

'I don't want you to leave,' Lord Ramsay told me firmly. 'I won't let you.'

'You will not stop me. Good afternoon.'

'I will find a way,' he smiled gently.

I ignored him and left quickly seeking the sanctuary of my room.

The Vampire Lover's Diary (Work In Progress)

I am still going to be posting chapters of The Art of Retaliation but I've been indulging myself with writing a humourous story today.  Hope you like The Vampire Lover's Diary.  If you do, please let me know if you want more of it on the blog.  Enjoy.


The Vampire Lover's Diary


Sunday, 19th December 2010

I finally met him tonight. My daughter and I moved in here over a week ago but I have only ever seen my mysterious neighbour getting into his car at night. He lives straight opposite my house in a cul de sac of ten large exclusive properties with a private gated entrance. I was making a quick dash to my car to get my i-touch that I left in there and he came out and caught me. And by caught me, I mean with no make-up on, hair in need of a wash and style and grey joggers. Curses!

He came out of his front door between the pillars dressed to the nines in a black tuxedo. I leaned in the car and kept my head down as though I was rummaging about and couldn't find what I was looking for. I hoped to hell he didn't notice me but I couldn't help lamenting the chance to get a look at the tempting eye candy. I never heard his car start and I couldn't stall any longer. I wondered if he had gone back in the house and I could make a cool sharp exit. I quickly looked up to check if the coast was clear.

He gave me one hell of a fright when I found him standing right next to my bent figure leaning into the car, bum pushed out towards his face. To humiliate myself further I jumped and banged my head off the roof of the car. He was so apologetic, so eager to make sure I was all right. I just wanted to die.

It was pure magic when he spoke. He has one of those voices that roll over you like a gentle caress making you just want to hang on to every word. I rubbed my head attempting to laugh off my injury, all the time wanting to scream with embarrassment more than from the pain it caused me. This is not how I normally look I wanted to say, I can do better. Instead I asked him to excuse the mess I was but I was a writer and I liked to be comfortable when I worked. I was suddenly more afraid that he would take me for a ditsy divorcee living off her ex- husband's money and living it up instead of forging a new independent life. Well, it matters to me what people think. There was the inevitable discussion about my writing and the first dark fantasy novel that had just been published.

I forced a smile wishing he would let me escape and at the same time just wanting him to talk more so I could listen to his voice.

'Sorry, I haven't introduced myself,' he said after our short conversation. 'I am Roman Price.'

Roman for hell sake! A name straight out of a Harlequin romance with the looks to match! Tall dark, brooding and extremely well groomed. He looks around my age, late thirties, early forties. Perfect. He has dark brown eyes and short hair to match and there is some very sexy designer stubble around his mouth and jaw. Very nice but more than likely out of my league. Such is life. Anyway I am digressing . . .

I gushed as I told him my name and shook his hand when he offered it. He seemed to hold my hand for longer than necessary or maybe that was my imagination or wishful thinking! He owns a nightclub in London. Sounds like a swish place. It's called The Midnight Lounge. He enquired whether I was settling into my new home well and was there anything he could do to help make it any easier?

Oh yes, you could put an end to a year of frustration, I thought as I smiled and told him no thank you everything was fine but thanks for the offer. His gorgeous lips curled seductively into a smile and he stared straight into my eyes just as though he'd heard my thoughts. I know he couldn't possibly have but his dark eyes told me a different story. I swear I blushed. Hell, if he'd heard . . . Mental note just in case he is telepathic or something, don't think naughty thoughts around Roman Price. Well, you never know, do you?

Roman has a son called Connor. He's around eleven. The same age as my daughter. I asked about his wife. I thought it rude not to enquire if he had one! Besides I had to check before I got my hopes up anymore than I already had done. So much for my resolve not to get involved with men ever again after my divorce. I'm not really serious about finding another man but I needed to know if he was attached for future reference, just in case. I had never seen a woman at the house.

No he isn't married, anymore that is, he told me. His wife left himself and Connor two years ago. He changed the subject very quickly. Whoopsie! Hit a nerve. Shame but score! As if a man like him would look at me! I could dream. He began talking about the other neighbours. All the time he was talking I couldn't take my eyes from his. They were so hypnotic, drawing me in until I felt lost inside them. It was unnerving but exciting at the same time.

The other neighbours sound friendly enough but I have to say I rarely see them. They often have parties and are having one on Christmas eve at Roman's house. He wants me to come and bring my daughter. I think I blushed again when I thanked him for his invitation. Then he started to leave. I was about to make a quick exit when he suddenly stopped and turned back to speak to me again.

'Oh by the way, if you need anything or you get frightened by something at night, give me a call. Living at the end of the street next to the woods like we do can be a little frightening at night when you are on your own,' he smiled.

'I'll be fine,' I told him surprised by his concern. I can look after myself. 'But thanks for the offer.'

As I spoke he took his wallet out of his inside pocket and removed a card. He handed it to me.

'Here is my number. If I can be of help do not hesitate to call at any time,' he told me firmly not appearing to take no for an answer.

I nodded. He flashed me a warm infectious smile. I said goodnight and walked back towards the house noticing that he stood by his car watching until I was safely inside. What a gentleman! I sneaked a peak out of the window and wistfully watched him get into his sleek black Mercedes and drive off.

I had a hard time working that night. I began fretting about what I should wear for the party and spent most of the night going through my wardrobe for a special outfit before deciding I had nothing to wear. I will go on an emergency shopping trip tomorrow.

It was past midnight when I locked up and decided to go to bed with a hot mug of tea. Yes I know you shouldn't drink caffeine at night but there is something soothing and comforting about sipping tea as you read and prepare to spend a lonely night in bed. Anyway, I was just going up the stairs when I glanced out of the window on the small landing before continuing up the other steps and saw a man standing in the back garden.

He was a tall dark silhouette and I could not make out any features. Startled I looked closer and the moment I did he disappeared. I was trembling all over trying to decide whether I had imagined it, perhaps seen a shape made by one of the trees blowing in the breeze or whether I really had seen someone. I consoled myself that it was probably my imagination but I could not put myself at ease.


Monday, 20th December 2010 Morning

I have to confess that I did not get much sleep last night and when I did I slept with the light on. I woke up early at 6am when it was still dark. Thankfully, my daughter is now on holiday and there was no rush to make the school run so I pulled on my dressing gown and went off to make some breakfast. It is always my custom to have a quick look outside to see what the weather is doing in the morning. The met office had predicted snow. But so far so good.

When I looked a car was driving up the street. It was Roman Price. Wow, he really did stay out all night. He got out of his car still looking devastatingly handsome with his shirt collar undone and his bow tie hanging unmade around it. He walked around the other side of the car to open the door for his passenger. He handed out a gorgeous tall blonde woman, all long legs and skinny. You know, the Paris Hilton type. I could hear her simpering and giggling as he kissed her hand and tugged her behind him towards the door.

He must have sensed someone watching him as he put the key in the lock because he quickly turned around and looked straight up at me. I nearly died on the spot, especially when I saw him give me a knowing smile. I shut the curtains quick and stood paralysed for a moment, horrified at my discovery. I caught a sideways glimpse of myself in my mirrored wardrobe doors and stared with dismay at my hair all over the place and my childish Hello Kitty pj's and dressing gown. What must I have looked like? How bloody depressing. Twice He'd caught me at my worst and the second time snooping!

How could I have possibly thought even for one second that a man like that might find me attractive? Especially when he could get skinny tall blondes by the bucket load. I don't want to go to the party anymore. I will make an excuse and spend another Christmas alone. At least I won't make a fool of myself.

The Art Of Retaliation (Work In Progress)

Chapter Six


Both exhausted and relieved I sat back in bed the moment Lord Simon left the room. My body was trembling with the exertion of having to fight for my virtue and my face burned with the sting of Lord Simon' s slap upon my cheek. Lord Ramsay was breathing hard staring at the door in a frightful temper. I did not know what to say to him and I resolved that silence was the safer option.

Lord Ramsay's younger brother, Patrick was to speak first. He was most anxious to comment on my injuries and to be assured that I felt well. I reassured him as best I could but he quickly left to call for Louise to come and attend me. Lord Ramsay had watched me intently as I conversed with his brother and now when we were alone he would speak to me.

'I am sorry for Julian's behaviour towards you,' he paused and volatile anger pierced his eyes as they came to scrutinise my damaged face. 'It was nothing short of a brutal assault. I fear for what would have happened if Louise had not entered your room and for that I will never forgive myself. I assured you of my protection and I feel that I have let you down.'

He turned away and frowned clearly distressed by his own perceived failure on my account. And then he ventured closer to the bed bending to lift the covers around me. 'I hope you will find it in your heart to forgive me, Lady Dashwood and that you will put your trust in me once more.'

I pulled the covers further up around my body seeking their protection after being so exposed. I was perturbed by his confusing thoughts upon the matter.

'You seek to protect me from Lord Simon yet you are ready to give me over to him so he may force me into wedlock. I do not see how I can ever trust your protection, Lord Ramsay. I should be glad to be free of it and on my way home,' I finished with distaste.

I turned away from him feeling my acute displeasure overtake my senses until I was afraid that I might become impertinent. Politeness dictated I should spare him it but I did so want to argue the matter further with him. Silence settled like a pervading frost in the room and it was a long moment before Lord Ramsay was inclined to speak again.

'Lady Dashwood, I understand your feelings upon the matter. I wish with all my heart I could set you free but if you knew the delicacy of my sister's mind and her health you would understand my motives . . .'

I could not help my interruption.

'Allow me to speak to my brother,' I persisted. 'I will make him send your sister home and ensure she is cared for . . .'

Lord Ramsay slowly shook his head.

'I regret I cannot. Your brother did not wish to listen to my request for him to end his courtship with my sister and he stole her from our home in the middle of the night. He will have what he wants and I do not believe you will hold any sway over him on the matter. He must be made to learn there are consequences for his actions,' he told me with firmness.

'I must disagree with you, sir.'

'Then we must agree to differ.'

'You talk of trust, Lord Ramsay, but you will not put yours in me.'

'I wish that I could but there is too much at stake.' He leaned over me and began studying the redness on my face. Tentatively he reached across and stroked the back of his fingers along the swell of my sore cheek. His touch was a gentle cool balm that gave me comfort and generated a pleasurable warmth inside me, the likes of which I had never felt with a man of my acquaintance ever before.

It was quickly accompanied by guilt that I could obtain such a feeling from a man who had taken my freedom and held me captive. I vainly attempted to dip my head and avoid the penetrating stare Lord Ramsay now gave me but he tilted my chin upwards to draw my attention. I spoke before him.

'Will you now still give me to Lord Simon for a bride if my brother does not return or has married your sister? Is my fate to be your revenge?' I almost whispered with hurt. Lord Ramsay's features tightened and pain shone brightly in his eyes.

'Shhh, do not talk of it,' he soothed. 'I will not allow it to come to that despite Julian's threats to disgrace my family if I don't. And I am more sure that Lord Dashwood will not allow his sister to be forced into wedlock.'

'I pray he does not but with all that I have recently discovered of his character I begin to doubt my own confidence in him,' I said with misery.

'Please, I will not have you upset especially when you health is just beginning to recover,' he told me softly. 'If you are unable to be confident in your brother then place your confidence in myself. I promise I will not let you down again. Now you must eat you have been without food for just a little more than two days.'

He moved away from the bed as the door was opened and Louise entered carrying a tray of hot food.

'It does not feel as though two days have passed. I remember you being here with me that first night and . . .'

A great blush descended upon me when I remembered how he had so tenderly held me in his arms. He gave me that wicked disarming smile as though he knew of my thoughts.

'Yes I remember too. I kept a constant vigil by your bed. You betrayed a bounty of secrets and the most scandalous gossip about your friends in your fevered delirium,' he teased.

'I do not believe you,' I laughed suddenly finding my good spirits again.

'It is good to see you laugh, Lady Dashwood. It gives radiance to your beauty.' His eyes brightened with mischief.

'You tease me again. Please tell me of Rosalind.'

I was ashamed that with all that had happened I had forgotten of my friend and her own ill health.

'Do not worry she is recovering but she is not as robust as yourself and will take longer to regain her health. I am afraid you are still not able to see her. We cannot risk you suffering a relapse, Lady Dashwood.'

I nodded with resignation. I would love to have the comfort of Rosalind's company.

'Please call me Pamela. I should prefer it.'

'Only if you return the favour and call me Peter. Good then that is settled.'

'I would like to get up,'

'The doctor said that you should stay in bed for at least another two days but I do not see any harm in a short walk around the castle. Perhaps I could give you a tour.'

'Yes I would like that,' I sighed with relief welcoming the chance to escape the prison of my room and ascertain an avenue of escape for myself and Rosalind.

'Good. After you have eaten and dressed I will come to collect you.'

An hour passed and Lord Ramsay came to collect me as he promised. I gratefully took the support of his arm feeling a great weakness in my body that I had not felt so strongly whilst in bed and he was more than eager to bestow his support.

We walked past the door to Rosalind's room. It was slightly ajar. I strained to see through it. Rosalind was not in view but Patrick Ramsay sat in a chair reading aloud one of Rosalind's favourite novels penned by Mrs Radcliffe. My eyes widened in surprise.

'I think Patrick is quite taken with your friend,' Peter told me with much amusement in a whisper as we stood and listened. 'He has been reading that novel to her for days. It is the only thing that appears to soothe her poor nerves and he will do anything to make her more comfortable in her suffering.' He began to quietly laugh, 'She is honoured. My brother hates Mrs Radcliffe's gothic romances.'

'That is a pity,' I smiled. 'He should be greatly commended for his sacrifice.'

We began to ascend the large red carpeted stairs. I stopped to look out of a small window encased in the large stone wall, eager to see the outside of the castle and search for any obvious means of escape.

'As you can see, Pamela, the castle is surrounded by a large moat on all sides.'

I felt his breath against my ear as he stood next to me. My skin tingled with a sudden excitement.

'So there is little chance of escape,' he whispered. 'There is no way of leaving this castle without me knowing of it.'

I smiled.

'I am sure there is. It has just not been found yet. I will be the first to outwit you,' I informed my adversary with confidence.

'I look forward to you trying. Mind if you fail and I catch you I shall have no choice but to lock you in the West tower. It is a place more dark and frightening than any edifice in one of Mrs Radcliffe's novels,' he told me with humour although I detected a hint of truth in his threat that made me frown.

'If you did then you would be less of the man I believe you to be,' I offered.

I tried to move away but my gait was unsteady with the weakness from my illness and Lord Ramsay had to reach out and hold my waist to settle my balance.

'But I have to confess I do like the idea of keeping you locked away all for myself. I suppose I am selfish but I do not care.'

'You are . . .'

But my humorous rebuke was to be cut short. I was a little startled when he suddenly moved to bestow a gentle kiss on my lips and silence my speech with determination. I was to want more of this intimate caress and when he made to repeat the action I welcomed it and returned his kiss with enthusiasm. His arms wound around my small frame and held me firmly against him in place as he deepened his kiss. I was to be lost in our embrace despite my mind arguing of my treachery against good common sense and propriety. But it was to be brief. A loud contemptuous voice interrupted us making me jump in Lord Ramsay's arms. It was Lucinda.

'Really, Peter. I did think you had more control and when we have guests as well.'

Lord Ramsay lowered his arms and moved away cursing Lucinda under his breath. We looked down the stairs to find his sister and Lord Simon glaring up at us. But there was also another voyeur in my brother who appeared to have just arrived and he did not look at all pleased with me.

The Art Of Retaliation (Work In Progress)

Chapter Five

When I opened my eyes again my face was bathed in warm sunlight. I could breathe easier and I felt comfortable. I believed myself alone until I heard movement from the chair next to my bed and a short unmistakable male cough to attract my attention. I turned quickly and found myself reeling with fear when my eyes beheld the figure sitting in the chair.

'Lord Simon, what are you doing here?' I reprimanded attempting to lift my drowsy body up in bed.

He sat in the chair previously occupied by Lord Ramsay. The insufferable man bore an elegance to slouching that I had never seen befit a gentleman so well. He was a handsome, reckless fellow with short wavy chestnut hair and blue eyes. It was not too much of a surprise to understand why he engendered so much female interest in his figure. But he was a danger to all women for he would badly ill use them. Lord Simon seemed to change women as often as he changed carriages and residences, which was too many times for the sake of sense.

He took what he wanted when he wanted. Then he was bound to discard it once it gave him no more pleasure, such was his wilful behaviour. He had no family or friends to advise him of his conduct and he gave free reign to his passions to the detriment of others. He pursued my affections with a wanton desire. I had failed to be beguiled by his false promises of love, marriage and worship and this only seemed to make him all the more determined to possess me as his wife.

On our last meeting at Countess Dufresne's ball in London he had informed me that there was no boundary or limit in his resolve to make me his intended. I feared crime was also to be one of the weapons he would employ against me. Not even my brother's words of warning that he would see him off had detracted Lord Simon's eagerness.

'I see you are awake, Lady Dashwood. I trust you are feeling better? I do hope so because we have much to talk about.'

He stood up as I eased myself up and back against my pillows. I contemplated rushing from my bed and locking myself in the dressing room for safety but then I was not a coward by nature and I had little energy to complete the feat. Instead I stiffened my weak body and addressed him boldly.

'We have nothing to talk about, Lord Simon. I believe I made that perfectly clear at our last meeting,' I told him haughtily.

He laughed and moved closer to the bed. His tall frame, comparable only to Lord Ramsay's came to tower above me. I refused to look up at him.

'Yes you did and rather robustly for a small delicate woman like yourself,' he smiled gently his blue eyes twinkling with some wistful mischief. 'But I have high hopes of changing your mind.'

He came to sit down on the bed next to me. I gave an involuntarily indignant cry and turned to rebuke him in the strongest of terms available to my sex.

'I will not allow you to ruin me, sir.'

He stared at me for a moment and I fancied I actually saw hurt in those alluring eyes of his. He was a good actor. He placed his arm across me and leaned closer. I could not move away from him. Although I trembled I forced myself to look up at him with angry narrowed eyes.

'Is that what you really believe? That I would show you such ill treatment? You do me an injustice, Lady Dashwood,' he told me softly, disbelief at my accusation weighing heavy on his words.

'I speak only the truth. You have ruined many a woman, sir.'

He gave a laugh and sat back.

'I have not ruined any woman who did not want or ask to be. Nor have I ever forced a woman to do anything she did not wish to do. You should not chide me so. I admit I may have been reckless with some affections but I cannot be accused . . .'

'I have heard many stories . . .'

'And they are all fantasy, I can assure you,' he said with seriousness.

Once more he leaned in towards me.

'Why do you shiver, Lady Dashwood? Surely you cannot be afraid of me? You are quite safe.' He smiled as though he took enjoyment from my fear of him. 'I confess I have a respect for you that I have never felt with any other woman.'

'Really, sir. I cannot believe you. I do not think you know the true meaning of the word.'

Once more he laughed.

'I should be insulted, Lady Dashwood, but I cannot help but admire your fire,' he teased. 'You are quite a catch for a wife. I warrant even Lord Ramsay himself desires you despite his kidnap plot. But he shall not have you. I am here to offer you rescue.'

I pressed myself back into my pillows as he leaned in close against my face as though preparing to take the liberty of kissing me. There was to be no escape. I closed my eyes and felt his lips descend upon my own first with gentle persuasion and then fervour when I would not respond.

'You are a stubborn, wilful woman,' Lord Simon told me as he brushed my lips with his own once more. 'Some may say you are cold and without a heart,' he told me with harsh impatience. 'But I do not believe it.'

I felt him place his arm around my back and lift me up. My struggles were weak and pathetic after my illness and there was little help in screaming when he covered my lips with his own to silence my protest. I began to fear for my life such as it was at that moment as he began to search for his pleasure elsewhere upon my person. He held my breast through my nightdress with a tightness that brought tears to my eyes.

'Surrender yourself to me or I will make you,' he fiercely ordered. 'I will not wait for Peter Ramsay and his plot to ripen any longer. You have kept me waiting too long. I no longer have patience for your games.'

'Then you'll have to force me. I will not give you the satisfaction of becoming yours willingly.'

My last comment did nothing to ease my situation but to earn me the punishment of a painful slap against my face. Still I continued to refuse even knowing what my fate was to be.

I did not hear the door open but heard a feminine cry of horror and shock ring out startling us both from our struggle. I turned to see Louise rushing away from the open door after dropping some fresh linen towels. This did nothing to dissuade Lord Simon's behaviour but only served to intensify his demand. He pulled back the covers and sought the end of my nightdress. I fought hard hoping now that someone would come to my aid. I could hear shouting and a commotion outside my door as I begged Lord Simon to stop.

Not long after, Lord Ramsay entered my room accompanied by his brother Patrick. To my relief Lord Ramsay and his brother wasted no time in coming to my aid. They reached down to take hold of Lord Simon with force. But Lord Ramsay was to go further. His eyes were dark and thunderous as his countenance was full of volatile temper and disgust. I gave a jump when his fist struck Lord Simon's jaw and nose drawing blood.

Lord Simon fell sharply against Lord Ramsay's brother Patrick who steadied him. He glared at him and wiped his mouth.

'I thought you didn't care about her? She was just a means to getting your sister back? You said I could have her.'

Lord Ramsay was breathing hard.

'No I said you could have her for a wife if her brother didn't return my sister.'

'What's the difference. We both know he isn't going to come back. For all we know they have eloped and are now married. Just give her to me and get your revenge or do I count you as a rival for Lady Dashwood's affections after all?'

'Get out. If I find you in her room again or anywhere near her, I will make you regret the day you were born. Do you understand?' Lord Ramsay shouted making me jump once more.

'I think I have my answer,' Lord Simon snapped wiping his mouth with the back of his hand once more. He began to walk towards the door but stopped to address Lord Ramsay again, 'You won't have her. She is mine and I will take severe action against anyone who attempts to take her from me.'