Sample from "Sprig of Holly" by me (!) from Christmas is for Bad Girls published by Elm Books: http://elm-books.com
“I have a request. Would you by any chance consider
posing as my fiancée?”
Galatea said nothing, just stared at him with an unreadable expression. John was drawn into the pools of her deep green eyes and found himself way over his head. He began to backtrack and try to explain himself, appalled at his presumption. “You would make an ideal wife for a scholar such as myself, but we do not know each other very well, perhaps this would be a chance for us to get to know each other better. A respectable and lovely lady like yourself, I am sure you have many other options, but I would be most grateful if you would consider it.” He could tell he was babbling madly, digging himself into deeper trouble with every word. He finally stopped. The silence in the room felt like a solid object between them.
Galatea said nothing, just stared at him with an unreadable expression. John was drawn into the pools of her deep green eyes and found himself way over his head. He began to backtrack and try to explain himself, appalled at his presumption. “You would make an ideal wife for a scholar such as myself, but we do not know each other very well, perhaps this would be a chance for us to get to know each other better. A respectable and lovely lady like yourself, I am sure you have many other options, but I would be most grateful if you would consider it.” He could tell he was babbling madly, digging himself into deeper trouble with every word. He finally stopped. The silence in the room felt like a solid object between them.
Galatea
was assaulted by waves of emotions...hope, despair, amusement. John Melford was just the sort of
gentleman she had dreamed of marrying before she had sold her soul
to the stage and her body to Green Room admirers. For four years she had adopted
whatever persona was asked of her.
To three lovers, she had sold her most intimate favors. She could do what he asked of her with
a practiced ease, but the idea of the deceit pained that small part of her that
was still innocent Abigail.
She
finally broke the silence. “I am afraid, Mr. Melford, that I am not
particularly respectable.” She
channeled Cleopatra, the irresistible lover, and arched her neck back in
invitation, glancing sideways at him with lust in her eyes. She could feel Mr. Melford’s interest,
the gentlemanly desire that had been simmering within him since they had met. Just as he began to respond to this new
version of herself, she turned businesslike. He blinked as she transformed once again into a young innocent. “I
would be happy to pose as a respectable young lady in exchange for a favor from you.”
Who is she? thought John as he felt himself pulled and pushed by the lovely woman shifting characters in front of him.
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