Star Crossed
Christine Young
achristay@aol.com
Excerpt Heat
Level: 1
Book Heat Level:
2
Ireland in 1817,
when tensions are high between Protestants and Catholics and faey people guide
the fate of villagers. A lovely Catholic lass stumbles upon the weakly ritual
fisticuffing between Irish lads. She falls into the lap of a handsome young
Protestant. Family ties, grudges, and two conniving faeries threaten their
budding love. But the faeries outsmart themselves when they hijack a time
machine that has mysteriously appeared in their forest.
EXCERPT:
The heat from the afternoon sun felt
wonderful--enchanting--dreamy. When she tried to sit up, the earth whirled
around her again. She wanted to feel indignant but she'd brought this on
herself. She didn't quite understand why she wanted to convince this arrogant
oaf she wasn't a little girl.
"You mind telling me why you tackled
me?" he asked.
Casey turned her head to look at the young
man. He leaned on one elbow, nonchalantly plucking a blade of grass and
sticking it in his mouth. His dark black hair appeared rakishly windblown and
his grin was bordered by dimples on both sides. She had the craziest urge to reach
up and trace the line of his lips with her finger.
"I don't believe in fighting,"
she said. "It's absolutely stupid for the bunch of you to come out here on
the Sabbath and fight when the rest of the week you are all bosom
buddies."
"Stupid, you say?" he queried.
"You dare to call me stupid?" he laughed and extended his hand.
"Let me help you up. I don't think I'm ready to meet your dah with pistols
on the dueling field. So I think I'd best be seeing you home."
An inferno swept through Casey. She didn't
know if she still reeled from the impact or if the dizziness was something
else--something magical--something supernatural. When he looked at her, she
trembled and her face heated. She touched her hands to her cheeks. They felt
cold and clammy. Afraid if he touched her again she might melt, she stared at a
puffy cloud floating whimsically overhead.
He bent closer to her. The scent of mint
filled the tiny space between them.
"You all right? Did you hear what I
said?" he asked, touching a finger to the pulse throbbing at her neck. She
tried to bat his hand away even while her heartbeat pounded faster, and she
couldn't inhale a decent breath of air.
"Stop it," he said, and paused
for a moment in his assessment of her health. "I think you will
live."
"Of course I will and I can find my
own way home. I'm eighteen. I turned two months ago."
"That old?" He laughed and she
wanted to escape. Yet some little demon inside told her he was the last person
she wanted to hide from. She felt as if her body had been taken over by
something unearthly, something mysterious or filled with enchantment.
"You're going to have a black
eye," she said and touched the bruise forming around his eye. "Does
it hurt?"
"Come on, lass," he said still
holding out his hand and sidestepping her question.
"You're ignoring me," she told
him, getting up without accepting his hand and dusting off hers on her skirt.
"My apologies," he laughed,
bowing slightly laugh lines crinkling his brow. "It only hurts when you
remind me of it."
"Then I won't be reminding you,"
she said quickly.
"Casey," her brother said as he
rounded the top of the hill. "You coming or do you mean to dawdle here all
day?"
She jumped and pressed her fingers along
her skirts to smooth them all the while feeling not a wee bit guilty, but a
whole lot guilty. And I have nothing to
feel ashamed of. "What are you doing here? I thought you left me to
fend for myself," Casey said feeling a moment of loss at the thought her
brother would be walking her home and not Kelly.
EXCERPT
Casey pushed on the green grass, trying to unwind herself from the man
beneath her, but fell again. All right,
Casey lass, you're in a heap of trouble right now with no way out. You are
seeing the earth whirl and tumble around and you're on top of a brute of a man--a
Protestant.
"All right, lads, we'll meet here next Sunday, same place, same
time," her brother's voice filtered through the air as if it floated in
the fog that surrounded Casey.
Once again she pushed on the damp grass and didn't seem to make headway,
her arms feeling as if they'd changed to soggy twine. Don't you abandon me, Patrick O'Connell. You know I have the Devil's
own luck. If you leave me here, I'll never forgive you.
"What about Casey?" one of her brother's friend asked.
"She looks a little worse for the encounter."
"Do you think we should leave her here--with Kelly?"
"He's a right stand-up guy. Of course you can leave her here. We'll
see her home," a Shaunasey said.
"Well, Kelly is a fine bloke. He won't hurt her. In fact with my
feisty lil' sister involved, I fear for him--not her," Patrick said
laughing. "She'll do as she pleases. She always does. How can I control
her when father cannot? She does not need a second father." He shrugged
his shoulder and looked behind him at his little sister as he strolled down the
hill.
"She's hurt," another friend called after Patrick. "What
kind of brother are you?"
"One who is tired of looking after an accident prone little lass.
She has to take responsibility for herself sometime, does she not?"
"She is that," one commented. "You rescue her night and
day."
~ * ~
"You should have
blessed her with a wee bit o'Irish coordination," Oran said dryly as he
flew to a hovering position near the girl.
"And you should
remember what our blessed mother told us, 'if you cannot say anythin' nice,
don't say anything at all'." Moya rose above the flower petal, her wings
buzzing with her anger toward her brother.
"I didn't say
anything that wasn't the truth." Oran whistled out of tune for a moment.
"We could kidnap them."
"And that is your
solution to everything?" Moya pointed one finger at him and shook it.
"Why, Oran, I believe you may fancy the lass for yourself. I will not have
it. Go play your tricks on someone else's charge. She is mine to see to safety
and long life. And don't be forgettin' the lad is yours to watch over."
"You best stem
your anger, Moya. You're wings have turned golden," Oran said with a
hearty chuckle.
~
* ~
"Let Kelly handle her," Casey's brother said with a light
chuckle. "He lost and so he must deal with the object of that loss and
assume the consequences. It's only fair."
"Hey!" Kelly said, "Don't leave me here with your sister.
It will be hell to pay. She's a little girl. What will your father say?"
The others laughed. "Just don't take too long to decide what to do
with her. Little girl or not, father will come after you with his pistol."
I just turned eighteen
years old--little girl--how dare he…
"Bloody hell, Patrick. What are you thinking?" Kelly cried
out.
"I'm thinking the Catholics won this fight. What are you
thinking?" Patrick turned his back on the pair and whistled a jaunty tune
as he strolled down the hill.
"Revenge will be sweet. Next Sunday…" Kelly shook his fist at
the departing back of Casey's brother.
From what seemed like a great distance Casey heard the moan emanating
from inside her battered and bruised body. She squished her eyes together,
wishing her head didn't pound so fiercely, and the ground spin so wildly.
"Who are you?" she whispered next to the man's chest while a soft
spring breeze whispered against her heated face.
"Who am I?" the man chuckled. "Lass, you are the one who
landed atop me. I should be inquiring into who you are? Only I know." His
hands rested around her waist and squeezed as if he were testing--perhaps
exploring--entirely inappropriate. Yet for some strange reason, Casey didn't
mind the supposed to be unwanted attention. "And
I don't think your brother should have left you here with the likes of me. I'm
afraid I've landed myself in a dangerous predicament. And I'm thinkin' one that
will be very hard to explain."
"Shame on you," Casey said. "You take liberties."
The words stole her breath and she had to lean on Kelly once more in order to
minimize the pounding of her head and the strange feelings emanating from where
his hands were.
"I only want to remove you from--my--ah--person. And if I were
taking liberties with you, lass, you'd be near swooning with passion."
"Ah, it seems you are a wee bit arrogant," she opened her eyes
and gazed into the bluest eyes she'd ever seen. "The color of a summer
sky," she whispered to him, still feeling woozy and not quite sure what
he'd just told her--but thinking at the moment something besides the fall
caused the earth to spin and the sky to tilt with a crazy, wild abandon.
"What is, lass?"
"Your eyes," she said, struggling against him and finally
rolling to the side so she lay sprawled on the grass, staring into the sky
she'd referred to a moment earlier and watching a white billowy cloud float
past. "I'm not a little girl," she told him. "Don't ever call me
that again."
"Then you want me to tell lies?" he asked with a lazy
half-smile that stole Casey's heart and left her floundering. "I dinna
think I can do that."
"It isn't a lie," she said, trying to sound indignant, yet
frustrated beyond anything she'd ever felt before.
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