Two guys and beautiful girl struggle for love in 1830's Natchez, Mississippi #Romance #HistoricalFiction

Beloved Destiny

by Carol Ann Fears


William grasped her hand in his, kissing her fingertips one at a time, and then held her hand in both of his. “Your name suits you so well. Did you know that Carina means “beloved” in the Spanish language? You are meant to be my beloved one. I knew from the day I entered the door at Camellia Hill and our eyes met. Although you were upstairs peering at me over a rail, your face reflected a purity and intelligence that enthralled me in that instant. My soul has cried out to call you my beloved. May I?” William continued to hold her hand as if he could not bear to relinquish it. “My beloved Carina.” He repeated her name with a smile. He kissed the palm of her hand, the brush of his lips giving her the first hint of the sensual pleasure which could occur between a man and a woman.

"Gastien Part 2: From Dream to Destiny" by Caddy Rowland

She drunkenly insisted it was fine. 

“Non, please, I am ready! I like you. Mon Dieu, you are gorgeous. Please! I really want this!”

“Non, I don’t think so! This is not who I am.” 

He tried to get up. 

She wrapped her legs around him, pushing against him. “Please! I find you so handsome. I want you to be the first.” 

Drunk, he had no more discipline to call on. He decided to take her. She, of course, thought it meant a whole lot more than it did. An hour later, he was dressed and pulling on his boots, hoping she was passed out. 

As he opened the door, she called out, “Wait! I don’t even know your name!” 

He shut the door and hurried to the carriage and his amis. This was not supposed to happen! He did not want a needy woman clinging to him. As he climbed into the carriage, she stood at the door. 

“Wait! What is your name?” she cried loudly. 

His amis looked at him and grimaced. 

Gastien turned and looked at her coldly. “Pardon me?”

“What is your name?” she asked again.

He simply replied, “Missing.”

She looked puzzled. “Your name is Missing?”

“Exactly.”

"Gastien Part 2: From Dream to Destiny" by Caddy Rowland

Phillipe smiled at the girl.

“Did you say your name was Sophie?” he asked gently. 

She looked at him in surprise. She did not expect him to be kind after being forced to apologize. 

“Oui, I am Sophie,” she said quietly.

“Well, Sophie, don’t look so disappointed. He comes here all of the time. You will see him again soon enough.”

Sophie’s face flamed red.“I don’t know what you are talking about! I am disappointed that I am failing as a server that is all.”

Phillipe chuckled. “Ah, Sophie! It is almost as obvious on you as it was on him.”

She jerked her face back to his in surprise. 

Then she said, “If you are talking about that man, that Gastien, I want to tell you that you are mistaken. I am not his type, I am sure.”

“Is he your type?”Phillipe questioned.

Her face turned even redder, and she turned to walk away. Phillipe put his hand on her tray. 

“Sophie, I am just saying, I know Gastien quite well. He is interested, or he would not have stood up for you. Be careful, though. He is no novice in regard to women.

From "Gastien Part 1: The Cost of the Dream" by Caddy Rowland

As she slowly removed the top and then the bottom of the lingerie, stepping out of them, he was transfixed with the beauty of her body. Sweet Jesus, she was lovely! Never had Gastien imagined that a woman could look so perfect. She could be a sculpture in a museum, he thought, she is physically perfect. The look of her screams of class. Gastien felt like he would dirty her.

Then, she looked at him in a way that let him know that he was definitely what she wanted. He did not have to worry that he was not clean enough, or rich enough, or suave enough. He whispered, “You are beautiful, Nath. Absolutely, completely, beautiful.” 

Her soft laughter tinkled in the stillness of the night. She moved over to the bed, where she pulled down the heavy red satin cover, revealing satin sheets that matched her lingerie. She climbed up the bed steps, finally sliding gracefully between the sheets. Looking over at him, she said softly, “My turn, Gastien. My turn to watch, while you undress.”

From "Gastien Part 1: The Cost of the Dream" by Caddy Rowland

Soon it was time for him to take the brush. Mon Dieu, he was nervous! His hand shook. Mic placed his hand on Gastien’s. He squeezed it gently and said softly, “Don’t be nervous, Gaz. It is just me. You have it, I know it. Most importantly, you know it.” Mic paused. Then he whispered, “Use the brush like you used your other tool last night. Master it. Make it speak for you, create for you.” Gastien closed his eyes, slowing his breathing. “Feel it, Gaz? The brush speaks to you. What it says to you will be different than what it says to me, but it will talk. And you need to talk to it. Talk to the paints, too. Become one with them. Just let it happen. You do it with charcoal, this is no different. You will just achieve greater results.” He took his hand off Gastien’s. “Make love to the paints now, Gaz.”

From "An Unlikely Arrangement" by Patty Wiseman

    Her hands remained clasped in front of her, settled against the soft folds of her velveteen gown; eyes downcast. Rage coursed through her body, her heart pulsed with the beat of it. Face-to-face with a man said to be her future husband, white-knuckled, she fought for control. Mother is angry, yes. Of course, I knew there would be consequences but I never expected this.    “Dear, please do not be rude. Give Mr. Kirby the courtesy of acknowledging his presence.”
    She lifted her trembling hand to his out-stretched palm. Her throat constricted, and she could not look directly at him. Instead, she focused on his gray pinstripe slacks and moved up inch by inch until she reached his handsome face. He stood over six feet tall, solidly built, and she felt small in his presence. She was not sure what she had expected, wasn’t sure she expected anything at all. A woodsy fragrance tickled her nose. Broad muscular shoulders complimented the rugged look, but at the same time exuded finesse, well-schooled manners, and proper decorum. His eyes were kind and compassionate, and her hand fit in his warm grasp like a comfortable glove.

From "After Midnight" by Eryn Lockhart

Luc’s friend discovers he’s outmatched when challenging Jacqueline to a duel...

Again and again she lunged, driving Jack backward until--with an ease that was frankly insulting-- Jack’s blade was flipped from his grasp and into the hands of his adversary.

The Valkyrie leveled both rapiers at her opponent within the blink of an eye, then stood languidly, watching. Jack slowly opened his fists, letting the half-crowns fall to the ground. The crowd exploded with cheers and huzzahs as the two duelists respectfully bowed to one another.

Jacqueline flipped her rival’s blade so that the hilt faced outward, and slowly walked over to the scullery. “Well fought, my lord, well fought.” She commented in a voice for her opponent alone as she returned the blade, and bowed once more. Then, ignoring her rival’s stunned gaze, her now drenched sleeve, and the half crowns lying in the dirt, Valkyrie turned and left the field.

“Luc,” Jack requested as they watched the masked female leave Bridges. “The next time I attempt an act of derring-do, might I suggest you place me on deck in a hurricane? I believe that would be slightly safer than depending on Valkyrie’s good graces a second time.”

From "A Love In Time of War" a novella from "Affairs of The Heart" by Borislava Borissova

After a while, the older white-haired man repeated in amazement, “Let’s clear this up. You fought to the death in the Balkan War against her father, her brother and her country. And she served as a nurse to Bulgarian soldiers, among blood, wounded, dead, and the smell of formaldehyde on the opposite side of the borderline. Does it mean you are coming to ask for the hand of your enemy’s daughter? The Bulgarian general, who personally led his army from the front line against the Ottoman divisions?”

“Yes. First there was the war… the love followed later. Peace was somewhere in between.”

“Yesterday, you could have killed her on the other side of the front, today you are in love and what about tomorrow?”

“She feels the same way. All our efforts to remain enemies appeared to be in vain. The border line between our ability to hate or to love appears a thin one.”

His fellow traveler shook his head distrustfully. “Your story sounds crazy. Most probably, her father will not allow her to marry you. Hmm... Kidnap her instead. Escape together as others have done many times on the Balkans.”

“Who would easily marry a Muslim man and a Christian woman in secret? If not, what would she be in my life without a legal marriage? A mistress? The woman who was born to be my wife? I cannot make a political scandal between our countries. The general is respectful and popular.”

From "Firehawk" by Nancy Morse

“I heard about German Flats.  And the boy you saved from a Huron war party.  And the farmer’s daughter you rescued from Abnakis.  And the party you guided through enemy territory to Fort William Henry.  At the Blue Bell they told those stories like they were myths, and they talked about you like you were some kind of hero.”

“I ain’t no hero,” he said suddenly.  “I’m just an ordinary man.”

“Who do you think is fighting the French?” she said, a challenge in her tone that matched the tilt of her chin.  “Farmers and settlers and blacksmiths and coopers.  Men who left their homes and families to fight for something they believe in.  Would you call them heroes?”

“Damn right, they are.”

“Would you also call them ordinary men?”

He didn’t answer.

“My pack is ready.  I’ll get dressed and we can go.”  She began to walk back to the longhouse.

“Alice.”

She stopped and looked back at him.

“I won’t let any harm come to ya as long as I draw breath.”

In that instant she saw the old Nathaniel, the brave, fearless, ordinary man she trusted with her life.  She nodded and turned away with a smile.

From "Darlin' Druid" by Lyn Horner

Desperate to find the stranger who haunts her dreams, Jessie Devlin daringly tests her ability to look into the future:

. . . something shifted inside her, like a hidden door opening. Eyes focused on the candle’s reflection, she gradually lost touch with her surroundings. She no longer felt the cold or smelled the lilacs or heard the frogs. Sight was the only sense left to her, sight that reached out, searching.

The water grew hazy and a pair of gray-green eyes topped by dark, rakishly slanted brows appeared. It was him, the man who always saved her in fiery nightmares. As usual, his other features remained a blur, but she knew those gentle, caressing eyes.
“Where shall I find you?” she asked, her voice an entranced whisper. At first no answer came, but she waited and was soon rewarded.

“Look west,” a ghostly voice replied in her head.

She had but a moment to register the words. Then those familiar eyes faded away; from the dark depths emerged a second pair of eyes. Flame-orange, they glared at her with maniacal hatred. A black, clawed hand reached out for her.

Jessie screamed and recoiled, tumbling backward onto the wet grass.