Fall by Kimberly Adams

Author:Kimberly Adams [Adams, Kimberly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Adams Romance
Published: 2013-12-04T06:00:00+00:00

My hands grip silver mugs of foamy ale. I nearly trip as I scan the room.

A bar?

No, a pub, with crude wooden tables hosting inebriated sots.

Sots? When have I ever used that word?

“Ah-ha, gentlemen, may I present…” A man stands atop his chair, propping one leg on the high back while hoisting his cup into the air, “young Isa, the Spanish rose.” He rolls his tongue, spitting foully before brushing the back of his arm over his lips. Lewd catcalls pierce my ears.

“What?” I back away from him, lowering the mugs to a table.

Mirror… where’s my mirror? I finally find the mirror on the wall near the door. It is liquefied but clearly reflecting my appearance.

Black hair, green eyes, tiny waist, full chest… judging by my wench’s gown, I estimate the date to be 1790.

“Gentlemen, gentlemen.” A man’s voice, so familiar, rings out from the crowd. I step back, not believing my eyes as West climbs on top of another chair, swaying and obviously drunk. “This innocent rose has yet to be… plucked.” His wordplay draws vulgar shouts and laughter. “But I may know the man for the job!”

I’m dreaming…

I’m safe, I realize, crossing my arms over my breasts.

Clearing my throat, I call out to him. “Sir, if you think that you have the qualifications, you may attend to your work… upstairs,” I drawl, curling my finger at him as I back toward a staircase that I guess leads to the balcony over our heads.

Eager cheers fill the warm tavern and several men grab West under his armpits, escorting him to the stairs. I can’t help but laugh.

Really, West? Is this how you spent the eighteenth century?

“Hurry up… let’s get on with the… plucking, before I wake up,” I tease, pleased to see that his abs are, in fact, immortal as his blousy shirt lifts above his belt while they carry him. Whistling and laughter drown out his smiling words as his eyes struggle to focus.

“How did I get so lucky?” he asks as he lands in front of me, those sapphire blue eyes gleaming wildly beneath drunken lids.

“Maybe you deserve a break,” I say, my accent clearly of Spanish influence.

“A break?” He narrows his eyes in confusion at my expression, following me as I back up the stairs. Beaming wickedly, his brows jump twice above his gaze. “It hurts a little the first time, you know,” he breathes, the smell of alcohol thick on this tongue.

Careful not to touch him, I slide the beige fabric of my left sleeve up my elbow, offering him my blank plane of tanned skin. “I know,” I mouth seductively.

He stops in midstride, calculating my words. “Is it you?”

. . .

“That is not poop. That is some kind of… demonic waste. Something is wrong with her. West, something is wrong with that.”

“It’s normal. It’s called meconium. Violet, hand me another warm rag-”

“I really think that we should just throw this one out. I mean, it’s destroyed.”

“No, I can clean it.”

“Is she okay?” I asked, watching as Violet and West bent over Eva on the floor.

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