Miracles in the Making (8 page)

“That depends on you. Are you willing?” Noel reached out for her hand.

Candy gasped. “Yes. Wow.” She said, her jittery nerves causing her to tremble as she took the hand he offered, now completely certain, “Yes.”

The following day, evidence of Christmas morning shimmered all around them. Candy and Noel sat before the beautiful her sisters had assembled sometime before. They held tightly to each other’s hands, determined never to leave. That had happened once already. To each side, Candy’s family encircled the magical display, the tree with its blue and white lights glowing, and topped by a harmonizing angel. At the base, countless presents lined its skirt. What more could a person want?

Her smile locked in place, Candy snatched up one of the gifts, tearing at the yellow paper. She swung over to Marie. “A set of sheets for my master bedroom. Thank you so much! The presents are all very exciting; but Marie, Lacy…” She paused, her expression almost lost. After a few seconds she told them, “I don’t know exactly how to go about this. Were it not for the both of you, I never would have straightened out this whole mess.” Her gaze drifted to Noel and she said, “This was the best unasked for Christmas present.” Her face warmed and she giggled. “Merry Christmas, darling. I love you I’ll always love you.” Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes—a few of them streaming down her cheeks.

About to reach for a present all his own, Noel drew up short and switched directions.
One choice.
Using two fingers to dust the dampness from her face, he slid his lips across her heated skin. “For more of an angel then I could have ever dream of being—I love you, Candy.”

That Christmas the snow fell heavily on the Frost mountain lodge, leaving the family locked inside. No one minded. Marie had her cooking to distract her, and Lacy had the songs she loved. The boys
had their mischief, Candy had Noel had each other, and every one of them had received their Christmas wish.

As a novelist, I enjoy my work immensely. My first book,
A Fairytale
was written when I was eleven years old for an assignment I had in sixth grade. While the rest of the class was writing one or two pages, I created a book more than ten pages long. Seeing as I’ve loved to write since I was in first grade, it seemed the logical path to take.

Miracles in the Making
is my first novella. Up to this point however I have published two other novels,
Dishonorable Intentions
and
Stranger by Morning
. Right now I am working on a fresh romance,
Almost Wonderful
, which should be released in the near future.

For furthur updates watch my site:

www.adriennedavenportbooks.com
.

I currently live in the beautiful town of Moab, Utah. When I am not writing I can usually be found spending time with my young son, Julian. As a single mom, it was a challenge at first to find a happy medium, but my son always comes first! I never stop loving what I do. I hope you enjoy my works. Thank you for your support.

I welcome any feedback. My email is
[email protected]
. I look forward to hearing from you.

Your friend,

Adrienne

Dishonorable Intentions: Chapter One

Six months later: April 1st, 1822

Kinrara Estate, Scotland

“May I offer you assistance, My Lady?” the young stable boy asked his mistress as she once again attempted to throw herself into the saddle of the giant black destrier she attempted to mount.

“No, Carrick. Thank you, but no. I tell you, I will conquer this beast if it is the last thing I do!” Jezebel, Countess of Kinley and Lady of Kinrara, stated with a boundless determination and spirit that completely parried her young age and diminutive height.

“As you wish, my Lady”, the young stable boy replied, still eyeing the dark horse with trepidation.

Gritting her teeth in determination, the stable hands lingering presence going unnoticed, Jezebel sucked in a breath and launched herself upward with all of her strength. After a small struggle, she gained the triumph of the horse’s saddle.

“Stubborn creature!” she grumbled low, knowing the fault of her difficulty did not fall on the animal. As if he heard her thoughts, Dark Storm nickered playfully. Jezebel knew he was laughing at her. Cursing vividly, calling the beast ten kinds of devil, she grasped the reins and kicked. Horse and rider raced out of the stable and through the gates of the keep, a whirlwind of fluent motion, sharing in the wild freedom they had delighted in time and again since his presentation to her, by her father on her fourteenth birthday. Closing her eyes, she remembered the moment in all its warm color.

“He has a wild spirit, Jezebel. Wilder even than your own. It is fitting two such like souls should find each other. Heed and trust him, and he will honor you much the same. I If you do this, I am certain, you will come to love each other as well.”

Her father, kind, wonderful, and loving, taught her everything about horses. He had been right on all accounts. She and Dark Storm came to trust and then love each other, with a fiery passion born of their wild hearts and shared lust for life. When her father and brother died three years earlier, leaving her the sole heir to Kinrara and all the responsibilities with it, Dark Storm had been her salvation. Not wishing to burden her friends with her worries, Dark Storm became her one true confidant and that love deepened tenfold.

Now galloping across meadow and moor, Jezebel, kept her eyes closed, leaning forward, and relaxing against the soft roughness of Dark Storm’s neck. Releasing the reins, she, with a confidence wrought of time and love, let the steed run roughshod. Which is why, galloping at an equally breakneck pace, Aiden Darlington found himself changing course to pursue the dangerous and feral animal, whose rider it seemed was an unfortunate match for his mount.

* * * *

He appeared to be on all accounts dead, not an unusual incident considering his locale. The wilds of Scotland were fraught with accidents. That said, Aiden could not figure out why, for the life of him he seemed intent on chasing the God-forsaken creature on which the dead man balanced, across the whole damn country when he came to Scotland for rest and relaxation, away from the prying eyes of England’s infamous haute ton. Nevertheless, that’s exactly what he found himself doing. With a heavy sigh, he gave his mount a hearty kick that sent him racing toward the horse and rider.

It didn’t take long for him to eradicate most of the distance between himself and the unfortunate lad. As he came closer, he inspected his quarry. The boy was noticeably young, the Duke pondered, much too young to die, by his guess no more than sixteen. He still reflected on the matter when he realized, with what little surprise he was capable of, there was no blood to be seen.

Well, that ruled out a gunshot,
Aiden thought as he observed the young boy. He had probably been strangled. Upon closer inspection however, he could see no sign of that either. Falling in line with the huge creature, Aiden reached, grasping the horse’s reins, and with the ease of an expert horseman pulled the beast up short. As he reached over to examine the victim, three things hit him all at once, and in such rapid succession, they left his head reeling. First the boy was no boy at all, but a maid. Beautiful to be sure, every curve and crevice of her body outlined by the masculine apparel she was clad in. Second, she had the most amazing skein of tresses he had ever seen, he must have been outright mad to have missed it. While he was still contemplating this amazing fact, the third hit him right between the eyes. She was awake, and had a damn strong arm!

““Hell and damnation woman! What was that for?” He sputtered angrily, his face still stinging from her blow.

“That,” Jezebel fired back, “was for manhandling my horse and for trying to assault me in the process, you wretched, disgusting, venomous snake! God should never have let a sadistic, unprincipled bastard such as you walk the Earth, you…you pestilence upon man, you curse upon humanity, you…”

Recovering from his stunned stupor, the smile he gave her was roguish and self-assured.

“Are you done slighting my character and cataloging my faults?” he inquired.

“There aren’t enough words in the world to describe the sort of treacherous lout you are, you miserable…” Jezebel resumed, jerking her horse’s reins from his hand.

“You have made that more than clear enough,” the Duke responded, unperturbed by her incestuous fury, the rakish grin that threatened to reveal itself lingering on the edges of his smile.

“If you’ll but give me a chance to explain,” he continued. “I’m sure I could ease your venomous opinion of me, if only slightly.”

“With your evident confidence I bet you think you could charm a snake out of its poison,” Jezebel snapped back.

Beginning to enjoy himself, Aiden wondered at what a fascinating surprise this dead man had become, all the while listening to the fiery temptress beside him, tick off his faults and social infractions with pleasurable wrath emanating from her every beauteous curve. There were many to be sure, he mused, his predatory nature pressing him to act. What a lovely mistress she would make. She would never bore him in bed, or out as many of his prior mistresses had, even Lila―for all her talent and wit was beginning to become monotonous. She chattered incessantly when he wished silence, she was too quiet when he wished words, even the prospect of bedding her, as appealing as he found her, had become tedious, nothing pleased him anymore. Yes, he considered, annoyed with himself and the subject in general, he was going to discharge her once he returned to England. It was more than time. Returning to the subject at hand he realized the angry beauty next to him was still talking.

“What was that?” he asked idly, choosing to ignore her obvious impatience.

“I asked…” Jezebel snapped, “…are you listening?”

“Not in the least.”

Turning her horse, Jezebel kicked him into a flurry of motion and galloped away, leaving the Duke both stunned and determined. In all his thirty years, he had not known a woman with such a fiery spirit, or such a candid persona. She was rare, unique, and she was going to be his. It mattered not that he didn’t even know her name, he was going to find her, and then he was going to have her.

~