The Kiss: An Anthology About Love and Other Close Encounters(88)
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The next afternoon as contestants were taking position on the field, Isabelle waved at Luke, the other hand shielding her eyes from the sun. He carried her favor, a cheery yellow ribbon, for good luck.
“So are you two betrothed or not?” Stefan handed her a tart and took a bite of his own.
“My father said that if he earned enough coin to buy a house and land that he would allow us to be married. Until then, I am free. Father doesn't want to tie me to a betrothal in case I change my mind.”
Stefan nodded, his mouth full of tart.
“Why aren't you in the tournament? Swordplay is your best event.” Isabelle daintily took a bite of the blackberry tart and watched Luke step into the ring.
“I'm a better swordsman than Luke. He's been talking since yesterday about buying land, and every coin counts. Told him I pulled my shoulder. He'll be taking this tournament's purse at the least.” Stefan's eyes laughed with true joy while he stretched his perfectly fine shoulder muscles.
Isabelle thought of the adventures a man might seek when scratching for coin. She cheered for Luke when he won the round and smiled at Stefan, “You're a good man. Watch after him, will you?”
Stefan tilted his head, “Funny. Your father stopped in the stables this morning and asked the very same.”
“What?”
“I'm to make sure Luke stays safe while at the same time keeping an eye out when you visit. Your father must know you well. He’s afraid you'll fall under a paladin's sway.” Stefan teased, finishing up his tart and wiping his hands on a kerchief. “I guess that mean's I'm to make sure you don't kiss. A hug or two would no doubt be appropriate.”
Covered in dirt and grass stains and sweat, Luke strode triumphantly from the field. Lifting her skirt, Isabelle shoved her half-eaten tart into Stefan’s hand.“Close your eyes.”
She ran to the field and was swept into Luke's arms for a paladin's kiss.
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Stefan’s story can be found in Dark Visions: First Love. Luke and Isabelle also appear in the Dark Visions Series.
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Jeanette Raleigh has been spending much of her time writing. This year Book 2 in the series, Dark Visions: Lost Love will be published. when not busy at work, she loves painting, hiking and reading.
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Friday Afternoon
Elizabeth Jasper
George the barman, with nothing much to do, walked round to the customer side that opened out onto the garden and leaned against his bar, contemplating the river. Another Friday afternoon. Actually, it wasn’t that bad. There were only two regulars sitting nearby putting the world to rights. Their voices rose and fell on the light breeze that ruffled the surface of the water, scattering sharp points of light over the riverbank and against the outside wall of the bar.
Summer afternoons at the bar were OK and George enjoyed working his shift - so much he’d been doing it for several years now. He liked to keep his evenings free and was a bit of a telly-addict, if truth be known, but not always and he liked to go out on Friday nights.
The customers weren’t too bad either; most of them, anyway. They certainly got a mixed bunch in there and on early summer afternoons such as this he liked to be able to work in the fresh air and sunshine. When the weather was bad the atmosphere indoors became thick and uncomfortable; particularly when the workers from the nearby car factory came in. They brought the smell of the place with them and if there were a lot of them and they stayed for a long time he felt a bit queasy.
He’d been leaning there for a while almost dozing in the warm air, when the side gate creaked open. There were voices, sharp and grating. He straightened up and walked round to his own side to wait for the newcomers. Once the factory closed, always an hour earlier on a Friday afternoon, some of the workers called in for a few drinks to set themselves up for the weekend.
Eventually they came into view and, with many false starts, decided on the table in the far corner nearest the river. There were two couples and the females sat opposite their partners, settling themselves down with a lot of fidgeting and rattling of bright, expensive accessories. There was no sign of anyone getting up to order so George took his pad and pencil and wove his way between the empty tables until he stood beside them.
He waited. it must have been a long, hard week in that factory. The foursome looked a little worn around the edges and there was a metallic tang in the air surrounding them in spite of the breeze. Too much time cooped up on the assembly line, thought George, as he continued to wait. Finally, they decided on their drinks and he went back to the bar to set them up.
With a full tray, George started once more on his journey through the maze of tables. The two regulars, who had fallen silent, watched as he set out four cans of the very best on offer. There were two glasses for the females and they waited while he poured the golden liquid. The regulars stared. How could that lot from the factory afford to drink the best while they had to do with the regular stuff out of the tap, which looked pale and weak compared to the golden richness of the stuff the newcomers were drinking? Nevertheless, they ordered two more of the same as George made his return journey.
The drinks went down very quickly and the two couples reordered. Another journey through the tables and back. And then again. By the time the third lot had gone down the four of them had mellowed somewhat. Not surprising, considering the strength of what they were drinking, thought George. Their voices had slowed and they were leaning towards each other speaking in confidential tones. Their skin gleamed in the afternoon sun and their movements were becoming smooth and languid as the golden liquid continued to disappear at an alarmingly fast rate.