Firelight by Kristen Callihan

By Kristen Callihan

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A lovely rose tinted her cheeks, her fiery hair swirling in the cold wind. Already she was fading away, stepping back into the moonlight. The heat in him cooled, leaving him with a familiar hollowness just under his breastbone. His throat closed in on him. “No weapons,” she whispered. ” He clenched his fist to keep from reaching out. ” She backed up another step. “For speaking out. ” She halted. He stared blankly for a moment, not knowing what to do. When she looked as though she might move, he fumbled with his pockets.

He asked with more calm. She stepped forward, and the man went rigid. “Who are you? ” Her temper swelled like fire to air. “Is this some joke Father has concocted to bedevil me, because let me tell you—” “I am Lord Benjamin Archer,” he said with such acidity that she halted. His eyes flashed from behind the mask. ” The hand on the walking stick tightened. ” The immobile black mask simply stared back, floating like a terrible effigy over broad shoulders. “What is beauty or ugliness but a false front that prompts man to make assumptions rather than delving deeper.

Every time filled her with terror. Never let it show. She mocked a wounded pout. ” His thin mouth worked as he flushed. “You misunderstand. They pale against your beauty. ” A genuine smile tugged at her lips. Plain and bashful, he might be, but the young man had a romantic heart and the beginnings of a poetic tongue. It was his whey-face and quick blushes that had made her select this shop that rested at the edge of respectability. The little shop specialized in fine jewels pawned by aristocrats whose wealth was dying.

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