The Star Necklace - Chapter 1

Ronan Macaulester had never believed in love at first sight.

His opinion wouldn’t change today.

However, despite his dire need for haste and his mortal peril as an Otherlander on the unfriendly planet of Ares, he drew rein at the sight of a young woman kneeling by the side of the dusty road. Her hands were clasped to her chest, and her eyes flashed at two men who taunted her.

“Take off your top,” the older of the two men shouted. His booted foot stamped the ground. “You know the rules.”

Ronan’s bird squawked loudly, as if annoyed by his rider’s stop. More likely, the sensitive animal had picked up the hint of violence hovering in the air, as dark as the line of woods edging the far side of the green meadow.

Big Boots moved closer, crushing the delicate flowers which bloomed around the woman’s spot like a beautiful, but ineffective, moat. He raised one leather-gloved hand, fingers clenched into a fist.

Ronan straightened in his saddle and reached for the cool comfort of his knife. He’d use the high-tech, highly lethal Tazzrak gun hidden beneath his travel-worn shirt only as a last resort.

The woman leaned back against a large boulder, even as her eyes flashed a warning.
“Don’t touch me.” Her strong, melodious voice rang out, and the men halted as if the sound were a tangible, physical barrier to their assault. “You can see enough to know what you’ll be bidding on.”

Shock raced through Ronan’s body. Bidding on? This woman was a whore, offering herself by the side of the road?

Her dress, shimmering in a peach shade almost identical to her skin tone, covered her from neck to ankle, conveying an overall impression of luscious beauty rather than sex for sale. Her golden brown eyes fairly sparkled with intelligence and determination. And the pride that stiffened every inch of her slender body gave her a look of dignity he’d never seen in a prostitute.

But her feet were bare, and her long pale hair flowed down her back in a waterfall of temptation. Though neatly bound close to her head with silk ribbons intertwined in a pattern comprehensible only to women, the hair fell in sensuous abandon where it had been let free. Ronan squashed the memory that intruded in his mind—of another young woman he’d known who’d worn her hair just like that. Another time. Another planet. He refused to remember.

Closer inspection of this woman revealed that her garment was sleeveless, and the neckline in fact plunged narrowly to her waist, yielding a teasing glimpse of cleavage, more than enough to be a distraction. His body stirred.

His eyes glittering with anticipation, the booted man took another step closer to her.

“We have a right,” he repeated, his voice as gravelly as the dusty roadside under the restless feet of the large emu bird on which Ronan was mounted. The emu had an uncanny sensitivity to humans and, if provoked to attack, the nine foot tall, three hundred pound bird could kill a man. But, after two weary months of constant travel, Ronan had grown to admire and trust his bird Griffin. He leaned over to stroke the soft black feathers on the neck of his agitated mount.

The distraction also gave him a moment to decide what he should do about this woman. His instinct shouted that a woman this beautiful, and gutsy enough to try to face down two men, would never offer herself as a common whore. But she knelt there in the flower-strewn meadow almost calmly, making no attempt to escape. And the men seemed confident in their behavior, unalarmed by Ronan’s presence, a stranger and a witness to their actions.

Ronan had learned long ago not to make snap judgments. Here, on the isolated and little-known planet Ares, caution seemed even more important than usual. He’d traveled widely and knew that what was forbidden on one planet could be a sacred religious rite on another.

“Show us your breasts,” the younger man called out. His blond hair spiked back from his forehead in contrast to the long thin nose jutting aggressively from his face. “Or we’ll expose them ourselves.”

The woman glanced for the first time at Ronan as if wondering what role he would play here. Her gaze halted at his hand, now stroking the black feathers of his bird, as he soothed the restless animal. A delicate pink flush bloomed suddenly in her cheeks and Ronan’s hand stilled. What was she thinking?

His other hand tightened on his knife even as he felt despair squeeze his heart. He didn’t have time to rescue a damsel in distress. He’d tracked his brother to this planet, found him murdered, and needed to return home with his painful news before his impatient father launched an attack to rescue his missing sons.
Why couldn’t he simply accept that the woman sat there voluntarily, turn his back and make good his escape from this benighted place? This was none of his business.

But the voice of his mother sang the theme of his rearing, even as he hesitated here by the meadow. You are the blessed son of a strong family from a wealthy planet. Your obligation will always be to protect the innocent.

While his father had taught him to defend his family and planet from any enemy, his mother had reminded him of the reverse side of his strength, his duty to protect the defenseless.

With an inward sigh, he raised his voice. “What’s happening here?”

The two men turned as one. One of them spat in the road. “Leave us, ferengi.”

Ronan didn’t flinch at the galaxy-wide epithet for a foreigner. He’d been called worse in his travels.
“Mistress?” he inquired, hoping the appellation carried the same mark of respect here that it held elsewhere. “These men appear to be bothering you.”

“Rogues,” she said. Her full mouth tightened as if to hold in more contemptuous words. And, for the first time, Ronan noticed the beautiful moonstone necklace that gleamed around her throat like a blessing from the gods. Cool, translucent stones sparkled like stars on her golden skin. The mystery deepened. A necklace of that quality was literally priceless anywhere in the universe.

He subtly urged his bird closer to the woman.

Three more men clattered over the hill and into view. As if they bore doom in their wake, a dark cloud scudded overhead and obliterated the weak sunlight. A sudden chill raced down Ronan’s back as the mounted trio drew rein sharply at the side of the road, raising a swarm of choking dust. He could smell danger, as if the sharp, acrid tang of a lightning bolt had struck nearby.

As if emboldened by potential reinforcements, the first two men exchanged a glance and then sprang simultaneously at the woman. Each pulled one side of her dress, and the garment tore open, revealing her perfect, golden, pink-tipped breasts.

For a moment, no one drew a breath as the dust settled. Even the birds remained silent as if in homage. Then a soft breeze exhaled a sigh over the valley, and Ronan moved, vaulting off his bird and racing toward the woman. In spite of himself, his eyes latched onto her perfection. An assault of lust almost stopped him in his tracks, but he used it to knock the two men sideways, one with each hand. Springing past the downed men, he tore off his vest and dropped it over the woman.

“Stand up,” he ordered quietly. “Stay behind me.”

He met her gaze briefly, reading the disappointment there. She knew he’d looked at her nakedness.

Casting off a vague sense of regret, he turned to face the three mounted men, hoping to read their intentions. Right now, they remained on their birds, but the burly black-haired one grinned widely, as if he intended to enjoy whatever happened. A smaller, slender man with silver hair sat at his ease in the middle of the group. The third man, as drab as the cloud of dust, licked his formless lips and waited.

The silver haired man locked gazes with Ronan. His eyes signaled contempt and arrogance, a look Ronan had endured before on this planet.

But he couldn’t stand by and watch five men do whatever they intended with this woman. Not when they’d already started by half-stripping her. If he had to, he could probably take down all five of them. But, as tempting as that prospect seemed right now, he didn’t have time for that, either. Ronan held up a hand.

“Move on,” he shouted. He injected into his voice all the habits of command he’d learned in twenty years of military service.

His bird squawked suddenly, as if she urged her mates to action. The birds ridden by the three men moved restlessly, harnesses jingling, pink beaks prodding the air.

The silver haired man jerked on the reins of his bird, yanking her into stillness. He spoke slowly, his thin mouth curving in a slight smile as if he already enjoyed his victory.

“We’ve come to view the sacrifice,” he said.

“What sacrifice?” Ronan demanded.

“You don’t know our customs, ferengi,” the burly man shouted. “Be off!”

Suddenly, the woman stepped to Ronan’s side. He smelled her perfume, a faint floral bouquet, as if the flowers at her feet had transferred their scent to her.

“The fault is mine,” she said woodenly. He heard her take a deep breath, and then she flung off his vest. Her torn dress gaped wide.

“Observe, gentlemen.” The second word was laced with bitterness. “Plan your bids.”

The incipient violence in the air braked to a sudden halt as all six men stared again, transfixed.

“Allow me.” She brushed past Ronan, her skirt rustling softly in the silence. “I must do my duty.” Sinking gracefully to the ground once more, she resumed the kneeling pose she’d held when he arrived. Except for the breasts bared to the gaze of every man.

Ronan gathered his wits and squatted down in front of her, shielding her from the view of the other men. With a supreme effort of will, he kept his eyes fixed on her face.

“Would you please explain what is going on here?”

“She doesn’t owe you anything!” one of the men shouted.

Ronan turned, and for the first time, his large knife gleamed visibly in his hand. “You may attack me,” he said softly. “But I’ll kill the first who try.”

“Enough.” The woman spoke sharply though her voice chimed musically in the still air. “These men are enjoying what is theirs by right, the custom of our land.”

“Your custom requires you to strip before any man who passes by?” Ronan heard the anger in his voice and fought to control his emotions. He wasn’t sure why this spectacle disgusted him so profoundly. He didn’t inhabit this planet, knew nothing of its customs, and had neither the time nor the right to interfere.

But he simply couldn’t turn his back on this woman, no matter that she now seemed compliant in this strange tableau.

“My wedding day is tomorrow,” she said, her voice as colorless as the now sunless day.

“And?”

“It is our custom to auction every bride on the eve of her wedding.”

“Auction?” he repeated hollowly. “What exactly are you selling?”

“My virginity.” Her soft voice traveled no farther than his ears.

“By all the gods.” He drew in a sharp breath. “That’s barbaric.”

“It is our most honored religious custom. No bride is exempt.”

“Whom does this action honor?” He cast a derisive look at the listening men whose eyes remained fixed on what they could see of the woman. “The god of depravity?”

“It is our custom,” she repeated. Her fierce gaze met his and held it. “I don’t like it. I don’t believe in it. But I have more important battles to fight for my countrywomen.” Her hand waved through the perfumed air. “Go. I see you’re anxious to be off.”

“And what will happen to you?”

“The same thing that would have happened if you hadn’t come along.”

“Enough!” The silver haired man urged his mount forward. “You’re a stranger here, an Otherlander by your dress and your ignorance. You will not disparage our Mother Goddess. It is her command we follow, and our women are pleased to do her bidding.”

Ronan snorted with contempt. “Who interprets the Goddess’s wishes? And who gets the money generated from the auctions?”

The man stopped directly in front of Ronan. “The ministers interpret her wishes, of course.” His smooth voice resonated with self-assurance. “And the money goes directly to the Temple of the Goddess.”

“Fine.” Ronan switched tactics with the ease of a warrior known as much for his political acumen as his battlefield prowess. “I presume any man can participate in this auction?”

“Yes,” the man answered slowly, a small frown darkening his pale face. “Though for a woman such as this one, the stakes will be very high.”

“I can see that.” Ronan nodded. “And I am prepared to meet them. So there’s no need for her to continue exposing herself here.”

He picked up his vest and placed it over her shoulders again, an impulsive gesture he’d undoubtedly live to regret.

He would stay until tonight and attend the auction even though it would force even more haste into his journey. If he didn’t make it back to his port of entry before the night moons vanished from the sky approximately three days from now, he’d be trapped here for at least two years, a harsh price and one he had no wish to pay.

He knew well, both from his own bitter experience in tracking down his murdered brother, and from whispers that hissed throughout the galaxy, that the planet Ares harbored only death for those few who dared to tarry on its unfriendly soil.

But he’d traveled inward by this same route, tracking his brother. So he knew that his return schedule, though tight, had several hours of cushion built in. If he didn’t use those hours to help this woman, he’d never forgive himself.

He kept his attention focused on the men as the woman rose gracefully to her feet, ignoring his outstretched hand.

“What are you doing?” she asked in a low voice.

He raised a brow. “I’m taking you out of here.”

“Why?”

“You deserve better than this.”

He looked down at her, alarmed by a sudden rush of protectiveness. The vulnerability of her bent head contrasted sharply with the tension in her stiff shoulders. Her silvery blonde hair framed a strong face softened by intelligent brown eyes and soft, sensuous lips, lips he suddenly and inappropriately wanted to taste. Lust at first sight was something he definitely believed in.

Pushing the thought aside, he spoke harshly. “Where’s the man you’re supposed to marry?” He should be here protecting her.

“He’s not allowed to interfere.”

Was that a trace of defensiveness in her tone? “I’m not either,” he pointed out. Placing a hand lightly on her waist, he urged her toward his mount. “Let’s go.”

“You can’t take her away.” The booted man jutted out his jaw, as if to buttress his courage. “She’s supposed to sit there all day.”

“Show’s over.” Ronan stared the bully down, letting his hand flex idly on the still visible knife. “You don’t want to be my first victim, do you?”

Deliberately, he moved toward the man, forcing him to either give way, or risk a physical confrontation.
The man waved at his comrades. “Come on, guys. We can take this ferengi.”

“Harrah!” The burly man kicked his bird forward.

“Stop!” The silver haired man held up his hand. “We could deal with him here and now. But it might be more amusing to let him attend the auction tonight.” His cold gaze rested on Ronan. “If he’s so anxious to participate.”

“I’ll escort you home,” Ronan said to the woman. When she hesitated, he added, “Your presence here will only cause more trouble.”

She looked from Ronan to the five men watching her, as if wondering which choice would be the lesser evil. A tendril of hair blew across her face, and she turned her head into the breeze, facing the group of men who stood on the roadway.

“You belong to us, Lady Galatea.” The silent man spoke for the first time, softly.

Ronan dropped his hand to her waist and squeezed gently. He leaned forward to murmur in her ear. “You belong to yourself, Galatea.”

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Excerpt from The Star Necklace

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Excerpt from The Star Necklace. Available Aug. 1 from http://www.eredsage.com/store/TheStarNecklace_CarlyCarson.html




“Lata.” Ronan breathed out her name word on a long sigh. “Try to understand.” He drew her other hand into his clasp and tightened his grip. “I can’t stay here on your planet.”


“I know that.”


“I don’t want to use you.” He paused, his eyes gleaming like the dark waters of a surging night sea.

“You deserve more from a man than what I’m prepared to give.”


“One night of passion,” she whispered, unable to speak clearly over the emotion clogging her throat.

“That’s all I want.” Goddess, please don’t let me beg.


“Passion! What do you know of passion?” His voice rumbled as he struggled to speak quietly, when she could see from the stiffness in his shoulders, from the lines of tension bracketing his strong mouth that some deep emotion held him in thrall. “All these years a virgin when you should have been lying naked in a man’s arms every night.”


His hands gripped hers as a night wind blew over them, bringing his cool, star-kissed scent to her. She curved closer to capture it.


Maybe she didn’t know much about passion. But she’d felt the strength beneath his gentle fingers when he touched her. She’d felt the sharpness of his teeth behind his tender kisses, nipping her in sensitive places. Underneath the patience and control he exhibited at all times, she sensed a fierce potency she wanted to unleash. If that was passion, she wanted it. This man with the hard eyes and the tender hands called out to something deep within her.


Her gaze met his and she understood suddenly that exploring her own sensuality was part of the call to adventure that had drawn her forth from her Temple home. And she understood more—the call to explore her sensuality had been sparked by her attraction to this man. This man and no other.


But could she convince him that what felt so right to her could also feel right to him? He was a strong man, with a strong moral code. Deflowering a virgin was not something he’d do lightly—he’d convinced her of that. She drew a deep breath.


“Ronan, when you touched my hair, it felt so good. Not like when Maemae or one of my friends fixed it.” She leaned closer. “When you touched me, I felt it…deep inside. I thought that was passion—the way a man handled a woman.”


“No.” Ronan leaned into the electricity sparking between them. His gaze riveted on her lips and she saw the moment when he capitulated. “Goddess! You drive me to it.” He shoved both hands in her hair and brought her face close to his. “A man would handle you like this.” His fingers tightened just enough on her hair so that she felt the pull against her scalp.


“And here’s why a man would do it.” Still holding her tightly, both hands wound in her hair, he brought his head down, and pressed his lips against hers. Hard. Her mouth opened under his demand and his tongue plunged in. He filled her mouth, his teeth scraped her tongue, and she rose to her knees, drawn to his heat like water to a fissure, an eruption certain.


Their bodies touched briefly, one sparkle of zinging delight, and then Ronan moved.


“No.” He dropped his hands and pulled back sharply, as if he’d been scalded. “I have responsibilities, obligations. I am not free to simply lie down and partake of a woman who tempts me.” He shook his head as if he needed the negative motion to reinforce his words.


“Then you should have left me to Lucas,” she cried out, chagrin and disappointment roiling within her in a toxic brew.


“The blonde man who bid at the end?”


“Yes.” She pressed her hands against her thighs, afraid that any movement would bring her again into contact with his heat.


“Did you want him?” Ronan’s voice rumbled fiercely as his gaze snapped to hers.


“I preferred anyone to Sheckel.”


Ronan’s mouth tightened, a firm slash across his tense face. “Lucas wanted you. I could see it on his face.”


Lata shrugged, striving for a casualness she didn’t feel. It was time to try to salvage some of her dignity.

“Desire is such a transitory thing, don’t you think? If he didn’t have me, he’d find another woman.”


“Is that how you feel about desire?” He leaned closer until his breath touched her face. “If not one man, another will do?”


“I…I don’t know. I didn’t know anything about desire…until recently.”


“How recently?”


“When you kissed me…after the auction.”


“That was a show, for the Temple elders.”


“It still felt good. Then, in my room…”


“Another kiss. Nothing more.” He waved his hand.


He could dismiss it. But she wouldn’t. She’d been kissed by Toric, and by a few other men over the years. None had affected her the way Ronan had. No other kiss had produced that tingly, melting feeling that reached from her lips all the way through her body. None had sparked a sharp yearning for more. A spark that danced within her, searching for an answering light to ignite a fire that would burn out of control.


“No, Ronan.” She looked up at him. “You know it was more than just a kiss.”


“This is more.” He drew his forefinger down between her breasts. Her nipples hardened under his watchful eyes. “That’s desire. Subtle. A man needs to pay attention to catch a woman’s signals.” He curved his hand and moved it slowly over one breast towards her nipple. “Do you want me to keep going?”


“Yes.” The word sighed through her parted lips.


“That, too, is desire.” His fingers moved onto her nipple and he stroked it, gently. She tried to breathe.

Her back arched in wordless supplication.


“Harder?” His voice scraped her skin.


“Yes, oh, yes.” She couldn’t have imagined something that felt this good.


He increased the pressure almost imperceptibly, leaning over her, the darkness that was his body the only thing she could see.


“Where do you feel it now?” His low voice rumbled in her ear, adding another texture to the delicious sensations washing over her.


“Everywhere.” She sighed, opening her eyes when his hand left her breast.


“How does it feel?” His dark voice continued to tickle her ear.


“Tingly and achy, and wonderful and…”


“And?”


“Like something is missing.”


He laughed shortly.


“Yeah, that’s desire, the good and the bad.”

Scarlet and the Sheriff Excerpt 1

Sheriff Hart seemed even bigger without his cop’s uniform. Which didn’t seem fair. As Scarlet certainly felt much smaller standing neck deep in the lake with not a scrap of clothing between her and the beach.

“Got a report someone was skinny-dipping.” The Sheriff shoved his hands in his cut-off jeans and glanced at the small pile of her clothes that suddenly seemed very conspicuous on the sandy beach.

“I was hot.” Scarlet tried very hard not to look at his muscular legs, though the bright moonlight insisted on showing them off. “Some law in this town against cooling off?”

“You shouldn’t be out here alone in the dark.” His deep voice carried easily over the calm black silk of the water. “I heard your car’s not going to be fixed for a few more days.”

“So?”

"So you were just passing through town until the accident.” He kicked off his sneakers and stepped into the water. “You need a place to stay?”

“Nah. I got a room at the No-Tell Motel.”

He regarded her thoughtfully for a long minute. “How is it?”

“It’d be a lot more fun if I had something to do there that I didn’t want to tell about.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I’m sure you could’ve convinced that trucker to prolong his stay in town.”

“Yeah, I was tempted.” She shrugged, hoping her nonchalance looked convincing. “But he was too uptight for me. The uproar over his truck.” She rolled her eyes. “You would’ve thought I destroyed his favorite toy.”

He smiled. “Mistress of innuendo.”

He waded in deeper, walking directly in the path of the moon, and suddenly she couldn’t breathe with the water caressing her, pressing its liquid, heavy weight against her bare breasts.

“What are you doing?” She knew she sounded breathless.

“I need to cool off, too. You don’t mind, do you?” He stopped, and with one swift motion pulled his dark t-shirt over his head and tossed it behind him onto the sand. “The water feels great.”

She still couldn’t breathe. In the clear moonlight, his chest looked wide enough to fill the lake. She could finally see the muscled ridges she’d fantasized were there, but the reality made her mouth water. And other parts of her, as well. Her gaze traveled down as if drawn by the ripple of muscle until she reached the point where his cutoff jeans obscured her view.

“Want me to keep going?” His voice rolled over her, smoother than paint, darker than the night.

She didn’t know if he meant keep going with the stripping, or keep going into the lake toward her. But she did know she was in trouble. Standing here, naked in the middle of a lake on a moonlit night with the sexiest man she’d ever seen approaching, she knew that common sense had never been further from her reach. The water flowed silkily around her, massaging her body with its buoyant touch, relaxing her and yet, within her, a fine tension was building as he approached.

“Double dare you, Mr. Officer of the Law.” Oh, God, if he came close enough to touch, she didn’t know what she’d do. She had to curb these impulses that pitched her right into trouble.

“You like to taunt men, don’t you?”

“It’s fun. What do you do for kicks?”

His white teeth gleamed in the moonlight. “If you’re a good girl, maybe you’ll find out.”

“Darn. I’m never a good girl.”

He took a step closer.

“For a bad girl, you’re rooted to your spot over there pretty firmly.”

"I’m comfortable.” Though her nudity, which had been simply delightful when she was alone, seemed both daring and nerve-wracking now that he’d appeared.

“I don’t doubt it,” he said. “Hot night. Cool water.” His voice dropped a register. “Naked body. I’m sure you feel fine.”

He grinned as if he suddenly heard his double entendre. “Really fine,” he repeated.

“So join me,” she said. “Take off the rest of your clothes.” Oh, she knew she was tempting the devil, but she couldn’t seem to stop. She wanted desperately to feel that hair-roughened chest slam against her, to feel his big hands clasp her head, holding her tightly for a demanding kiss. She wanted to see that tough façade morph into needy greed.

“I wonder why you’re so desperate for attention?”

“Come on,” she said, pitching her voice low enough to just reach him. “You’re dying to see what I showed that trucker.”

“Dying might be too strong a word.” He inhaled slowly, his chest expanding. “Under different circumstances, though, I wouldn’t mind seeing the real thing.”

“Seen a lot of fake ones, have you?”

“I’ve handled a few in my time.”

He was close enough now that she could see his brown nipples, and they were puckered just like hers. She was sure he was interested. So why was he holding back?

“The water’s warm over here.” She swirled her arms, savoring the embrace of the silky liquid. But she wanted something rougher. “Come closer.”

“Don’t think so.” He stopped his slow wade towards her. “As much as I’d like to.”

“You’re afraid we’ll end up having sex.”

“Call me old-fashioned. I like to kiss a woman first.”

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Epilogue - Scarlet and the Sheriff

This is an epilogue to Scarlet and the Sheriff. I hope you enjoy it!

“That’s a nude beach in there.” Rand pointed to a wooden fence forming a small stockade on the sandy beach of Lake Monndsee.

“How do you know?” Scarlet tore her gaze from the cool blue, mountain lined lake to eye the fence. She wouldn’t have associated nude beaches with the Austrian Alps.

“As soon as the concierge found out we were honeymooners, he mentioned it.” Rand grinned with that wicked look in his gray eyes that told her exactly what he was thinking. And it definitely involved her getting nude.

Not that she minded that. But in public? Though the brown log fence formed a square on three sides, the fourth side was open to the lake. The fence reached down to where the water lapped the shore, but, if a person didn’t mind a wade in the shallows, they could certainly walk by the enclosure.

“Come on, babe.” Rand dropped his arm around her shoulder, guiding her towards the door in the side of the fence. “You’re the adventurous one. I’m the law and order guy. So if I can do it, you can.”

Excitement began to thrum deep inside her as Rand unlatched the door. A little bell chimed, presumably to warn occupants of visitors. But when Scarlet stepped through the doorway, she saw immediately that the enclosed area was empty except for a dozen full-length lounge chairs facing the lake.

“Perfect,” Rand said, glancing around. “This late in the afternoon, maybe we’ll be undisturbed.”

Scarlet spread the blue and white striped towels provided by the hotel onto two lounge chairs. She sat down sideways on the chair, facing Rand’s seat.

“We’re supposed to get undressed,” Rand said, winking at her.

“Oh, I intend to.” Scarlet licked her lips slowly. “After you do.”

“Okay.” Rand shrugged and pulled his navy t-shirt over his head. His tanned chest gleamed in the late afternoon sun and Scarlet shoved her hands under her thighs to keep from reaching for him.

“Keep going,” she said.

His hands were already on his belt. He quickly unbuckled it and moved to his zipper.

“I went commando.” He pushed down his jeans and she had to stifle a moan as his half-erect cock came into view. He kicked away his shorts and sat down on his chaise, grinning at her. “Your turn.”

“In a minute.” She stood up and moved over to him. “Lie down.” She pressed lightly on his shoulders, pushing him back to rest on the half-reclined chaise. She lifted his legs up, pausing briefly to caress his rough, hair-covered calf muscles. He stretched his long legs. He smelled so good she almost succumbed to the temptation to lie down on top of him. But, not yet.

“Feels good, babe.”

She smiled as she moved to the foot of his chair. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Standing just out of his reach, she began unbuttoning her white silk blouse, one slow button at a time. With every button she released, Rand’s cock rose another inch. She flicked her gaze from his face, where a red flush was deepening along his cheekbones, to his cock, which tempted her almost beyond her ability to withstand it.

A cool breeze blew off the lake, freshening the warm air and ruffling Rand’s short black hair.

Scarlet reached the last button, checking to see that Rand’s gaze was fixed on her before she opened her shirt to expose her breasts. Widening her stance, she placed one leg on either side of the chaise and leaned over Rand. “Enjoying the show?” she asked.

“Babe.” He sucked in a breath. “The idea is to enjoy the chance to be naked in the sun. Not to torture me.”

“Is this really torture?” She tossed back her hair and lifted one hand, letting her fingers trail over her breast.

“We can’t have sex in here.”

“No?”

She tossed her blouse onto the towel. “I wonder if you can control yourself.”

His eyes glommed onto her breasts. “Lose the bra.” His deep voice vibrated in a low growl.

She pulled off the bra, leaned over further and shimmied her naked breasts for a few seconds.

He moaned. “God, Scarlet. You’re killing me now. Stop.”

“But I’m not finished, Rand.” She stepped back to the end of the chaise again. “Do you think I’m wearing panties?”

“If you are, get rid of them.”

“You’re stealing my thunder, Rand. I wanted to tease you a bit more.” But she reached under her short pink miniskirt and slithered her transparent panties down her long legs. Rand’s gaze tracked every move she made.

She stepped out of the scrap of silk and straightened up. “That sun does feel good.” She trailed her hands once more over her breasts.

“Scarlet. You need to stop now.”

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” She giggled, though, inside, she was trembling with need. She didn’t know how much longer she could keep this up. The warm sun caressed her like a lover, Rand’s eyes burned her with intensity, and the sight of his cock, thick and full, pointing straight up with need, enticed her beyond belief. She wanted to touch him more than she wanted to do anything but tease him some more.

“I’ll count to ten.” He leaned forward, and even his teeth looked tense. “If that skirt isn’t on the deck, I’ll take it off myself.”

“So impatient, dear husband.”

“One…”

She dropped a hand to the bottom of her skirt and began to inch the material upwards.

“Two.” He snapped out the word.

She pulled up a little higher, to reveal the top of her thighs.

“Three…” His hands clenched into fists by his side.

“I don’t know if I can take it off, Rand.” Playing with him, she glanced around, as if wondering if they had observers. “Someone could peek through the slats in the fence.” She hid a smile as she watched his thigh muscles tighten.

“Four…” He dropped his legs to either side of the chaise, and she forgot to move.

“Five…” All she could focus on were his open thighs with his balls pulled up tight to his body. She couldn’t breathe.

“Ten!”

He sprang, vaulting off the chaise and grabbing her around the waist.

“Eeeeek! You cheated!”

“I won.” He nipped her ear, holding her firmly with one hand while the other stripped off her skirt. “I have to do something about this hard-on before someone comes in here.” He gestured to his body. “You going to help me out?”

He was already guiding her over to her chaise and pushing her back on the cushions.

“You said we can’t have sex here,” she gasped. The way she felt, she might erupt in orgasm with one touch.

“Changed my mind.” He pushed her legs wide and knelt between them. “You planning to say no?” He brushed his hands over her breasts. “You look pretty turned on yourself.” He eyed her puckered nipples.

“Someone…ah…” She lost her train of thought as he played with her nipples.

“Someone—” He raised an eyebrow, and she could see his eyes laughing.

“Could come in!” She gasped out the words as her back arched off the chair.

“They could.” He pushed himself down the chaise and lowered his head to her crotch. “Think about that while I’m enjoying you.” He pressed his mouth to her and began licking.

She dropped her arms over the side of the lounge, arched her back and, within seconds, her cries of release spilled into the sunlit enclosure.

“Jesus, Scarlet.” Rand lifted his head, laughing. “You trying to attract an audience?”

“Hurry, Rand.” She reached down to him. “I want you.”

“Ah, those are the words every husband wants to hear.” He scooted up the chaise, dropped his mouth onto hers, and plunged into her welcoming body.

The bell on the enclosure door chimed.


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Scarlet and the Sheriff - excerpt 2

This is an excerpt from the story Scarlet and the Sheriff, available from eRedSage here.

Feeling a bit shy, Scarlet finally opened the door and stepped into the bedroom.

Rand squatted in front of the fireplace, prodding the logs with a long iron poker. He wore faded black sweat pants riding low on his hips and a gray t-shirt that clung lovingly to his chest. Yum.

He looked up at her. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah.” Her wet bangs fell across her eye. “Thanks for everything.” She looked down at herself. “I hope I’m decent.”

“Unfortunately, you are.” He smiled. “That shirt could cover you two times over.”

Yeah, it could, and that was the problem. She felt loose and naked and somehow open under the baggy t-shirt he'd lent her.

She gestured with the hairbrush. “I couldn’t open the industrial strength packaging.”

He held out his hand. “Come on over and I’ll brush your hair for you.”

She walked slowly toward him, knowing there was a catch somewhere in the casual invitation. A smart woman wouldn’t get within twenty feet of a man who looked so warm and tough and…and just plain desirable. A careful woman would ask him to leave, or, at a bare minimum, would maintain her distance. She watched him sit down on the butter yellow chaise angled in front of the fire. He leaned against the back, spread his legs to either side of the chaise and patted the seat in front of him.

“I promise not to bite,” he said, his lips curving in a half smile. “Let me take care of you for a few minutes.”

Ah, hell, she’d never been careful. What was the point of starting now? She kept moving toward the chaise as if she had no will of her own. It would feel so good to sit in front of the snapping fire, warm and cozy at last, and have her hair brushed. She sat down, leaving several inches between them. Rand leaned forward, grasped the hairbrush from her nerveless fingers, and lightly gripped her shoulders.

“You need to move back just a bit,” he said, tugging her gently, “so I can reach you.”

He didn’t force her into contact with him, though she could feel his heat and smell his clean male scent. She heard the packaging rip open and then he began brushing.

Ahhh, he’d learned well from someone. Long, gentle strokes that massaged her scalp all the way from the top of her head to her neck. Immediately, she began to relax, feeling the long tension of the day seep out of her.
They were both silent, the crackle of the fire and the patter of rain the only sounds accenting the peace of the moment. She closed her eyes, succumbing to the drugging pleasure of his touch.

Rand drew the brush slowly through her hair, resisting the urge to fling the hairbrush on the floor and pull her against himself. The fire threw up a flame of light and the table lamp he’d turned on glowed softly beside them. He could see the outline of her breasts beneath the thin t-shirt and her long bare legs stretched out in front of her as if placed there solely to tease him.

Perfect temptation, right here in his arms. He stirred, trying to ease the ache in his balls. But there was no point in trying to delude himself. He’d wanted her since the minute he’d seen her standing on that hot sidewalk, blowing her bangs out of her eyes and glaring at that trucker. She might not be the woman he’d been thinking about looking for now that he was at least temporarily settled in his hometown. Certainly, she was not relationship material. He doubted if she’d said an honest word to him since they’d met. But his body didn’t care. She was pure sex, no strings attached, just a few minutes away from writhing beneath him if he could find the right lever.

If only she hadn’t accepted his offer to stay here under the terms of no sex. He had to honor her refusal. No matter what it cost him.

Of course, she’d already kissed him. If he could steal a few more kisses, that wouldn’t be violating the agreement, would it?

He placed the hairbrush silently on the table, leaned forward and rested his hands on her shoulders.

“What happened to your engagement, Scarlet?” With women, talk was always a useful distraction.

“Ummm…” She hesitated, as if speech were an effort. “We weren’t compatible, that’s all.”

“Why not?” He moved his hands to the naked skin between her shirt and her shiny hair. He rubbed slowly and gently. Nothing to alarm her.

“He was a lawyer. Successful. And I’m not the trophy wife type, y’know? 2.4 kids, blonde ponytail, a body too thin to cast a shadow.”

He laughed. “No, you have the body that makes a man pinch himself to see if he’s dreaming.”

“Hey!” But her voice was languorous, and she smiled, her eyes still closed. “I’ll pinch you if you don’t behave.”

“I’m behaving, Scarlet.” Though he was not. His hands probed deeply, massaging her shoulders, trailing over her neck, raising goose bumps that told him as clearly as words that she reacted to his touch. He took note of everything, the way she tilted her head forward to allow him better access, the way her hands were relaxed on the chaise, the way her legs had fallen slightly open. Her rose scent teased him, a feminine contrast to the burning fire.

“Did this successful lawyer give you the bruise on your face?” He had to mention it, though he was damned if he knew why.

She clapped a hand to her cheek and her whole body stiffened. “That…that must be from the car wreck,” she said.

Another lie. But typical. Women rarely wanted to admit to abuse. Rand willed his own hands to relax as he continued massaging her neck. “Just in case it was a man,” he said, forcing the words out around the knot of anger in his throat, “don’t ever see him again. A man who hits a woman once will do it again.”

She didn’t say anything and he pressed on, unsure why he felt so protective of her, but damnit, he did. “Promise?”

“Okay. If you keep on doing what you’re doing, I’ll promise never to let a man hit me.” She stretched under his probing fingers. “Again.”

He barely caught the murmured word, but anger flared anew at her whispered admission. He knew it had cost her to say that, after trying to brush off his question with her light words. If he ever saw the son of a bitch who’d mark a woman like this, the guy would be lucky to keep his balls. But for now, all he could do was try to make her feel good and maybe steal that kiss that was teasing him with its promise.

She stirred a bit as he moved his long fingers around to her front and stroked the delicate bones that supported her neck. She brushed her cheek against the back of his hand. “You’ve got magic fingers, Rand. Why aren’t you married?”

“In Chicago, the job owned me. Long hours. Odd hours. And to be honest, I didn’t see any need to settle down.”

Then he could’ve kicked himself for his honesty. No woman wanted to hear that a man found sex and other women easy to come by.

“Aren’t things different here in Lovestruck?”

“Yeah.” He brushed his hands over her soft skin. “No sex.” Shit, where had that come from? It was the truth, but he didn’t need to advertise it.

“Lost your touch, have you?”

“I don’t know,” he murmured. He let his hands drift down to the tops of her breasts. “What do you think?”

“Ummm.” Did she arch her back just a little? “I think if you wanted a woman, you’d have one.”

“It’s not so easy when you’re Sheriff in a small town.” He kept his hands moving, slowly. He rubbed the sides of her breasts, and down to her waist.

“The badge is that heavy, huh?” She sounded a little breathless.

“I always have to worry what people think. Being a role model is sort of an understood part of the job description. Which isn’t necessarily bad. It’s kind of fun having the kids looking up to you. But the flip side is, you have to be someone worth looking up to. You don’t want little boys looking at a cop and saying, yeah, I’ll be just like him when I grow up. Running around town, using women.” He flattened his hands on her stomach. “So if there are easy women in town, I can’t pursue them.”

“Surely you could have women without using them.”

“Women don’t seem to see it that way too often. As soon as you have sex, they start getting expectations about a relationship.” He paused, pressing lightly against her stomach, his hands tense. “And if you don’t want that, watch out. You’re using them.”

“Well, aren’t you?”

“Hey, if we have consensual sex that we both enjoy, how am I using them?”

“You are. You just don’t understand.”

He chuckled. “Nope. I don’t. But I have to live by it here.”

“Well, better you than me,” she murmured, her eyes drifting closed again. “I’m definitely not a model citizen.”

Oh, he knew that. But didn’t care at all. Not when she was lying here almost naked in his arms, her tight little nipples pressed against his t-shirt as if begging for his attention. He ran his hands down the side of her hips, learning her shape without touching anything vital. She wriggled back against him, and he hugged her close, careful not to force her against his erection. He wanted her to feel…cherished, not mauled.

“I seem to be developing quite an interest in a girl who doesn’t follow the rules,” he said. He leaned forward and kissed the back of her neck, gently at first, just testing her response. She sighed and dropped her head forward. He added his teeth, nipping her where her exposed neck met her shoulders. She moaned, and his hands moved automatically to cover her breasts. For a long moment, he pressed his palms against them while continuing to kiss her neck. Then he began playing with them, running his fingertips over her nipples, then pinching them upright as her back stiffened, and her breath panted from her lips.

Her growing arousal stoked his own desire.

But his discomfort rose at the same time. He’d made an agreement with himself that he wouldn’t try to do more than kiss her. Yet here he sat, his hands full of her breasts, his heart thundering with need. And a sense of urgency rode him. She wouldn’t be in town long, surely not long enough for him to have his fill of her. So he had to make the most of whatever time they had together. It could be just this one night.

“Scarlet.” He turned her in his arms. “Honey.” Not such a stretch, from one name to the next. But her eyes peeked open at the endearment, and she turned and gazed into his face, her brown eyes unblinking.

“That’s why you’re seducing me,” she whispered. “I’m just passing through town. No expectations. No fodder for the gossip mill.”

“Negative,” he murmured. He threaded his fingers through her hair and began massaging her scalp. “I’ve been wanting you since I first laid eyes on you. Yelling at that trucker because he couldn’t keep his eyes off you. I knew exactly how the poor sucker felt.”

“I wasn’t yelling at him.” Her voice had a low, dreamy quality, and Rand knew she was ready to fall like a perfectly ripe peach.

He leaned close, so he could whisper in her ear. “And with every outrageous statement you’ve made since, I only wanted you more.”

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The Naked Male Tour of Austria

I did not go to Austria to view naked men. That was just a side benefit.

We started our vacation in Vienna. The city provides a wealth of inspiration for a writer, with everything from richly decorated historical buildings to fabulous baroque art and even the Lipizzaner horses (amazing show and the riders...yum). Most every restaurant and cafe has outdoor tables and the city is full of charming side streets and entire city blocks that are vehicle free. Vienna is a walker’s and bicyclist’s paradise in many parts of the city.

In the Spittleberg district (where 18th century men could "enjoy life to the full outside their home") we had drinks one evening at an outdoor cafe on one of these cafe-lined side streets. Totally romantic.

I went inside to use the ladies room (identified by the bra on the door). As I was washing my hands, I looked up where I expected the mirror over the sinks to be. What I saw, however, was two young men doing their business about two feet from my nose. In place of a wall above the sinks, there was a large glass fish tank (immaculately clean) which occupied the space between the men’s and ladies’ bathrooms. One could scarcely avoid the "view".

I was shocked, but it’s great for a story tidbit. Dibs, ladies. I reported back to hubby who said that women are total voyeurs, but they don’t want to admit it. Are they? I have to say, I wouldn't have looked intentionally. One has to keep in mind that all kinds of guys use the facilities.

We saw The Magic Flute at the Viennese Opera. Though I normally enjoy opera for the music, the costumes here were so amazingly vibrant and colorful, they inspired a whole new series for me. The performance was fabulous. The Opera House itself was a bit of a disappointment, as much of it was destroyed during WWII and rebuilt during the 50s in, unfortunately, a 50s style. There were glimpses of the original splendor.

We moved on to Salzburg, a unique city that has been carefully maintained to retain much of the beauty and charm of the past. (Mozart was born and raised in the yellow house on the left.) However, the old city has been given over almost entirely to shopping, and chain stores abound. We accidentally stumbled upon the Mirabell gardens where (supposedly) the original Maria von Trapp and her stepchildren could be seen singing and dancing around the fountain. What we saw was my next naked man, a fellow who was strolling inside the fountain pool, attempting to hang onto his shorts. But he lost the battle just as we walked by and we were successfully mooned. You know, I bet the children were a lot more charming.

Next we drove up into the lake district for some hiking. When we passed by Lake Mondsee (also a setting for The Sound of Music movie) hubby noticed a nude beach. We did not even take a peek (having learned in our travels that there is rarely a person on a nude beach you want to see, well, naked).

But we did not escape the lady sitting on a bench on the regular beach who was changing her clothes. Took off her bathing suit top as we approached and, by the time we were walking by, she was in the process of removing the bottom. Okay, that’s the naked lady story. Off subject.

However, I do feature this nude beach in an epilogue to my story Scarlet and the Sheriff. The free epilogue is available here.

We drove into the Austrian Alps on the Grossglockner High Alpine Road, a white-knuckle ride up to the highest mountains in Austria. This road hugs the Alps, ascends to more than eight thousand feet in the course of 30 miles, and was lined with bicyclists making the ascent. Can we say fit men? Unfortunately, none of them removed their clothes for my enjoyment. When we got to the top, however, there was a male hiker disrobing. Standing right there in the parking lot, with dozens of people milling around. He stripped himself naked to change his outfit. I don’t know why, though it’s not the first time I’ve seen such a thing. However, he wasn’t hot. Not that I looked.

Our last night in Austria taught me, oddly enough, why everyone wants to know what a Scotsman has under his kilt. It is well worth knowing about. Now, I am happily married and can’t take advantage of this knowledge. But, if you’re not, get yourself over to Scotland.

So, here’s the tale. We were at Octoberfest in Salzburg. (oompah band during daylight with man in poncho) (Technically, it’s a religious type holiday in Austria, but even the Austrians admitted it was hard to tell the difference.) As you see from the picture, they gather in large groups to drink excellent beer, sing along to an oompha band, and dress in native costume. (Think flowered dirndl dresses with aprons for the women and leather shorts and checked shirts for the men.)

The sight of two Scotsmen in full kilted gear added to the festive atmosphere. Added considerably, as you will see. Everyone sits at big picnic tables family style, that is, wherever you find a seat. The Scotsmen were at the table next to mine, and I was keeping a casual eye on them. (Yup, casual.)

Though we were all eating dinner, it was still full daylight. They were bantering with an Austrian woman at my table, laughing and having a grand time (in German). The guys stood up, still joking with her, when suddenly one of them simply pulled up his kilt and exposed his wares for the Austrian lady. That’s right. He wore not a stitch under that kilt and not only that, he was shaved as bald as a robin’s egg. No, dinosaur egg would be a better simile. Because that man had a set of pipes…whew, I’m still agog. It’s amazing how shock immobilizes you, and yet allows you to focus intently.

He dropped the kilt and the Austrian lady and I started to cry.

No. No. We didn’t. She blushed brighter than the red stripes on the tent. (We think she had dared him to do it.) I managed to close my mouth and tell my husband what had happened. The man sitting next to me and I laughed for ten minutes (though he was blushing). It was so unexpected. The two Scotsmen sat back down and within five minutes, there were two young women sitting across from them (coincidentally, I’m sure.)

Well, in the US, that stunt would probably cost him a night in jail. But the Europeans are much more casual about public nudity.

I have to leave you with one last set of pictures, because I love libraries. The Austrian National Library. Now that's a library (with an amazing collection of rare books).

Finally, I have a brand new web site if you'd like to check it out here.