Hi
all! I was thinking about what to write this month and was telling my husband
about my grandpa and his “side-hill horses” story that he loved to share when I
was a young child when it hit me. Tell Grandpa’s story and how it inspired me
to be a storyteller. Back in the old country as it goes the land was very
hilly. So much so that horses had to develop shorter legs on one side just to
be able to navigate the steep slopes. Though a very short tale, it always took
me away from the everyday to imagine what such a horse would look like and it
seeded my imagination with ideas that have become never ending in my life.
Grandpa
was my first glimpse into being a real storyteller. A kindly man who had
emigrated from the old country, he loved to have his grandchildren sit on his
knee and share with them tall tales that would keep them mesmerized by the
hour. He was the best babysitter you could ask for and I want to share one of
the stories today that I wrote thinking of him and my grandma. The story is in
the book Forever Man and reading and
sharing the tale still makes me think fondly of him and my precious time
growing up in our loving family.
*
* * * *
“I can’t sleep Grandma Rose. Please, tell me a story
about faeries!”
“Well, you remember how your grandpa always wore a
feather in his cap?”
Sunday Rose nodded; her face full of anticipation as
she waited for the tale to continue. “Well, this night was Samhain night—our
Celtic New Year’s feast night—and it is the time other worlds come into close
contact with ours. A time when faeries and humans can come together to
celebrate. Your grandpa and I were courting and he was taking me to the
festival. I begged my ma and got the material to make myself a brand new
dress—a beautiful white eye-lit dress that had ruffles at the shoulders and a
full skirt that would be just perfect for dancing. I tied a blue velvet ribbon
in my hair and I felt like a faerie Queen myself!”
The kindly
older woman with the still beautiful features was swept back to that magical
time when her man had come a-courting. Sunday Rose waited patiently for her to
continue as her stories were always worth the wait. Better than books, she got
to hear a living story.
“Your grandpa—he was a handsome devil. Dark shiny
hair and the bluest eyes you ever did see! Dressed to the nine’s in a new suit
and a jaunty hat to boot. He brought me a red rose corsage and pinned it to my
dress at the waist. He said it was impossibly tiny, my waist, that is, that his
two hands could circle it. Ah, your grandpa, he was a charmer.”
“I wish I knew my grandpa.” Sunday Rose couldn’t
help the words from falling from her lips.
“Ah, child. He was taken from us too soon, before
you were born. That’s the way of it, the good die young. I’ll probably live
forever, not having lived the life of a saint.”
“Grandma, you’re a good grandma!” Sunday Rose could
not bear the idea of anything slanderous being said about her beloved grandma.
“Well, when you lived as long as I have child, you
see too much. But, I’m telling you a story.”
Sunday Rose settled in closer in her grandma’s
comforting arms. “The town square was all lit up with glittering candles and
fireworks were going off and lights were strung around the dance floor. It was
a wonderful sight. People were so happy to be out now that the harvest was in,
talking with their neighbors and kin alike. We joined another couple, William
and Martha, who were just married a few weeks before. William and your grandpa
worked together at the steel mill and were good friends. Your grandpa always
spoke well of him. He was devastated when he was hurt on the job—helped out
Martha and the kids for years after. Felt it was his obligation. I so admired that man.”
Her grandma paused for a sip of water and continued,
“Now, as luck would have it this was a very special Samhain night. The faeries
were out in full force as it was the five hundredth anniversary of Queen
Avallach’s death. When a faerie Queen dies, child, the web between the two
worlds thins and faeries, playful creatures that they are, like to cavort about
in our world, knowing they can pull lots of pranks on humans and get away with
it. Samhain is an excuse for them to do all sorts of things, because they can
make themselves invisible.”
Sunday Rose’s eyes grew round as she thought of all
the mischievous that faeries could get into being invisible. She immediately
wanted to be a faerie and play jokes on others. There was one boy in the
neighborhood that really deserved a prank being played on him, she thought with
glee. She hated it when he would squish flat her fancy mud pies and laugh at
her distress. Imagine what she could do to him if she was invisible.
“Wow, grandma, I wish I could be invisible.”
“No, you don’t child. It’s a heady responsibility,
one I’m sure you don’t need to worry about.” She smiled at her beloved
grandchild. If only the child knew. . . She brought herself up short and
continued, “It was time to light the bonfires in the Macalister’s meadow and we
all headed over there. Your grandpa took my hand and I let him this time. I
knew something momentous was happening between the two of us and I was so
excited child, to be out and about with such a handsome man. Your grandpa, he
was some man!”
The two females smiled at each other. Sunday Rose
thought her grandma looked so beautiful when she talked about her grandpa.
“A particularly annoying faerie named Abby was
looking to cause trouble with a pair of humans this night and set her cap on
grandpa. Well, soon as I realized what was up I let her know that she wasn’t
going to get away with any of that nonsense!”
“What did she do, Grandma Rose?”
“She asked grandpa to dance and tried beguiling him
with the act of mesmer. Faeries have this ability to kind of mesmerize
humans into doing what they want. And Abby was looking to lure your grandpa
away for a night of pleasure.”
“What’s a night of pleasure?”
“She just wanted to have him to herself to dance
with and talk to—to steal him away from his human.” Rose did not want to get
into what was really going on, the child was far too young for such
carnal knowledge.
“Wow, that’s not nice. Grandpa should be dancing and
talking with you. I’m glad you didn’t let her get away with anything!” The very
idea roused Sunday Rose’s young ire.
“Of course I spoke up and gave her the what for when
she tried her nonsense. You got to watch faeries, child. Some are good and some
are up to no good.”
‘What about grandpa’s feather?”
“I’m getting to that part now. We were walking home
when a shimmering blue feather dusted my white dress in the moonlight. Probably
off a wild turkey—very iridescent and ever so pretty. Well, grandpa picked it
up and placed it in his hat and said these very words.” She waited deliberately
to be sure she had her granddaughter’s full attention before she continued in a
wondrous tone.
“I’m keeping this feather, Rose, as a reminder of
how you set your cap for me on this night. And I’ve something to ask of you.”
And then he got down on one knee and asked in his wonderfully rich baritone
voice, “Will you marry me, Rose? You’ll make me the happiest man on earth.
Please, say ‘yes’.”
“And say ‘yes’ I did. Best decision of my life!”
Sunday Rose was jerked back to the present by a
sudden stirring in her womb and she patted the child within. “Grandma Rose
wouldn’t know what to think of you, child. But I do know she would want me to fight
for what is right.”
Seventh Son
Dragonstone Wolves Series
Book One
Angelina J. Windsor
Genre: Gothic Paranormal Historical Erotica
Publisher: Ellora’s Cave Publishing
Date of Publication: August 2015
ISBN: 9781419994401
Number of pages: 73
Word Count: 23,000
Book Description:
An ancient curse. A darkly handsome lord. A desperate woman.
Hungry and homeless, Isobelle refuses to sell her only possession, her body. When she is finally driven to end her suffering, Lord Bram Snowdon rescues her.
Bram lives under a curse, one that's driven him to become a creature in hiding, knowing every full moon will turn him into a monster.
Bram and Isobelle both have demons to fight, and their struggles soon turn to lust...and love. But destiny awaits them: they are fated to help the Dragonstone clan reclaim its birthright. This mission puts Isobelle's life in peril and worse, puts Bram's trust in her at risk.
Morganas, daughter of the Merlin, mage of Dragonstone and Avalon, offers to be a source of the purest help to Isobelle but also becomes her darkest temptation.
An adult historical romance from Ellora’s Cave
Inside Scoop: This story contains a scorching-hot f/f scene.
Reader Advisory: This story has graphic sexual language and scenes—no closed bedroom doors (or other rooms) here!
Excerpt:
I slept and then woke with a
start. A rustling noise had sounded nearby and I knew it must have been what
disturbed me. I came to instant alertness. The fine hairs sprang up on the back
of my neck. Someone was in my chamber. My eyes opened to see Priestess Morganas
watching me.
“What do ye want?” I demanded coldly,
dismayed by the turn of events. I had thought her trustworthy and I did not
like to be thought a fool. Her shiny head nodded once and her dark eyes stared
into mine, appearing like obsidian glass.
“I thought to speak with you. You
have no need to fear me, Isobelle. There is so much I would share with you. Do
you know of the Temple of the Goddess that I preside over?”
I nodded. Most knew of the holy
place where young, unmarried women were taken to dedicate a year to the service
of the Goddess for a tithing bestowed on the family. I confess to being
intrigued by the notion of fertility rites and an initiate being pressed into
the service of the high priestess. Mystery and intrigue wreathed the high
priestess and drew me to her though reason cautioned me to be careful.
“Are you aware of the various
services that the young women offer to the Goddess?” At my blank stare she
continued, “If you and Bram had not already been intimate I would have taught
you so much about the pleasures of the flesh.” As she spoke she lay her hand on
my breast beneath the cover and I felt the sensuous touch waken my body,
sending waves of pleasure surging through me. My nipples hardened and my cunny
dampened, making a small gasp escape my lips. I also felt shame at her mention
of how quickly I had fallen into Bram’s embrace. And he a married man. It
mattered not to the church that his wife was an evil sorceress, only that he
was married and what we did so freely was a crime.
She smiled and leaned down to
kiss my lips lightly, her movements enticing and warmly offered. Her tongue
lapped at my mouth, tickling my senses, so soft and so different from Bram. I
found I dinna want her to stop. Confused, I let her be, transfixed by the
exquisite pleasure the gentle almost
delicate massage of my breast encouraged, the forbidden sensations racing
through me, firing my blood.
About the Author:
Angelina J. Windsor, Sugar & Spice and Everything…Naughty, hails from Canada. Married to the love of her life, she has combined her love of romance and the paranormal with her interest in exploring highly charged erotica in a historical setting in her newest book, Seventh Son, first book in the Dragonstone Wolves Series.
A love of reading and writing sent her on her life’s quest to connect with others over the written word, “for having our voices heard is akin to sharing our souls”. She hopes her characters will touch your heart and help you escape the bonds of this Earth as she surrounds you with an otherworldly experience where werewolves and goddesses roam freely and break all the rules. She loves to be approached about the journey of writing.
Connect online at:
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