To Love a Music Master

by Nancy Pirri

Chapter One

1885, New York City

 Annabelle Watkins stood outside the Hughes School of Music, a pristine, white-gloved hand poised, and ready to knock on the door. The prestigious school, housed in an old brownstone building, was located on the corner of Fifth and Cedar. Annabelle was personally familiar with the school.

Covertly, she glanced around, knowing she should not have left her chaperone behind. Society frowned upon unmarried women of an available age gallivanting (as her mama used to say) alone about town. However, it was daylight and she was twenty-two years old, not some young girl directly out of the school room. Recently, Annabelle concluded that her prospects at finding a suitable beau were diminishing with the passing of time, resigning herself to the possibility of subsiding into a sorry state of spinsterhood for the rest of her life. The thought brought tears to her eyes and she choked back a sob.

Annabelle straightened her peacock-blue hat and brushed a piece of lint off her matching woolen coat. Tucking one strand of hair into her coiffure, she knocked briskly on the door, and then backed down one step. The worst that could happen was that Master Hughes could simply tell her ‘no’, he wouldn’t take her as a student.

Annabelle supposed she couldn’t blame him if he declined, thinking of their past history. Embarrassment swept through her as she thought about her final momentous lesson with Hughes several years ago; it had not been pretty, albeit it had been memorable. Her words at the time had rung out, loud and clear, laced with sarcasm that she would never step foot inside his studio again. Now here she was, with little choice in the matter.

The door swung open, heat escaping with it. Annabelle welcomed the warmth and was eager to enter—until she met the glaring expression of one of the world’s most talented pianists. Master Hughes stood slim and tall, hair unfashionably long and golden, flowing to his shoulders, eyes a perfect shade of robin’s egg blue. Attired head to toe in black, his hair was a stark contrast. Undeniably handsome, he was also, in Annabelle’s memory, a harsh taskmaster who expected nothing less than perfection from his students.

Seven years had not changed him much, and she found her heart beating a bit faster as she viewed his handsome face. She’d been in love with him all those years ago, and wondered at her heart’s palpitations now upon seeing him again. The man had been grouchy, and unsmiling, and still, she found herself falling in love with him. She had hoped, with the passage of time, to fall out of love with him, but now knew she hadn’t, which was a problem. All she wanted from him were piano lessons, nothing else. With a nod, she squared her shoulders and met his scowling visage.

His scowl softened somewhat as he looked down at her. “Well, what is it?” he said rather impatiently. “I’m with a student.”

“I…well, I…”

“Spit it out, young woman,” he snapped. Then he narrowed his eyes on her until she noted how they darkened and a humorless smile crossed his lips. She realized then he recognized her and she braced herself for what she decided would be some form of chastisement. He’d been excellent at dressing her down when she was his student.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Miss Annabelle Watkins, in the flesh.”

She heard the irony in his voice but forced a smile on her lips. “Not quite,” she said, knowing well how he had always hated her contrariness. Still, she could not help but taunt him. “I am wearing a simple day dress under my coat, and—”

The teacher swept her body a disdainful look. “I could care less what you are wearing. You could be standing there without a stitch and I would not care. I must return to my student, so come back later. Good day, Miss Watkins.”

Annabelle snatched up her skirts, moved up to the stoop to stand behind him. “But you have no idea why I’ve come!”

He paused in shutting the door and lifted his brow. “I could have sworn I’d just said I-don’t-care.”

Annabelle jammed her black kid boot in the doorway, preventing him from closing the door, for once in her life satisfied with the rather large size of her foot.

He looked down with a sigh, then up, glaring at her. She imagined that at any moment she would see smoke seeping from his ears and eyes. The thought nearly caused her to laugh aloud, but that would not bode well for her at all. From experience, she knew that Mr. Hughes possessed little sense of humor. Rarely had she seen him so much as crack a tiny smile.

“You left five years ago. You said you were through taking lessons from me. As a matter of fact, I distinctly recall you telling me to go to Hades. Now remove your foot.” Then, as an afterthought, he added, “Please.”

 

The Wizard of Mars

by Jack Wear

Chapter One

 Elli stared at the city beyond her. Tall gleaming structures clustered in the downtown core with green rectangular park areas beyond it. Her hotel room window offered the view in silence with the sealed glass, not allowing any sounds to enter. She sighed, trying to capture one of her last views of Earth before leaving for Mars tomorrow.

She didn’t want to leave Earth but had finally run out of options. She had lived the good life, partied too much and was now seriously in debt. When she was fined for damaging property during another one of her intoxicated states, she reluctantly turned to her parents for help to avoid being placed in a detention centre. Her last stay at the Arizona Detention and Behaviour Correction Center was not a pleasant one.

Thus, a few months ago she approached her parents grudgingly for money, expecting a shouting lecture from her mother while her dad would look intently on, disapproval in his eyes. At the end, she expected her dad to say something like, “Princess, we will help you again but you have to change your ways.” Her father, hard working but with a soft spot for his only daughter partly because he was away so often, protected her from what her mother wanted to do with her. Until this time.

Her mother was silent as Elli made her request and her dad spoke in a firm voice, a voice normally only her brothers heard. “Enough is enough. We will take care of your financial issues, on one condition. You are well educated and trained as a biologist. Skills you have never put to use since you left university two years ago. As a condition for our help, you will accept a position I have secured for you at BioGeo.”

“BioGeo?” The name sounded familiar but she had stopped investigating potential employers in her field of work, preferring jobs that didn’t require much effort to do and easy to pick up after she was let go from the last one.

“One of my associates is on the board of directors has found an opening for you.”

“Oh, that’s nice.” Elli figured she could work there a few months. The money would be good but she didn’t like jobs that required her to show up every day for work. Sooner or later she would want to take a few unscheduled vacation days and that would mean the end of that employment. However until then her parents would believe she had decided to act responsible finally. Losing another job would be unfortunate and she was pleased to do work as a biologist, but sooner or later she would end up partying too long and miss too many work days.

“The position pays very well but you have to sign a contract to work for them not less than two years. There are substantial penalties for not fulfilling work related obligations.”

Elli looked shocked, sitting up in the soft leather chair. “I don’t understand. Is this some sort of government job?” She hadn’t heard of any of friends having to sign a long term employment contract before. Well, there was Miles Stewart who worked his way to be a starship officer, but no one else she hung around with took work seriously.

“Well, there certainly is a lot of government money where you will be working.” He paused for emphasis. “Red City.”

Elli gasped. “Red City? That’s Mars! No, please, don’t send me there. I’ll never survive there.”

Her dad shook his head. “Princess, you’re not surviving here. Mars is your best hope to turn your life around. It’s either Mars or the detention centre.”

Elli shook her head. “I don’t want to go.” She almost stood up, ready to stomp out of her parent’s mansion. But in her mind a question came to her. Then what? The detention centre and when you’re out in six months, you’re still in debt and no place to go. She looked at her dad, at the face that clearly loved her more than she deserved, and lowered her head in defeat.

During her last month on Earth Elli began to talk to people as if it was going to be the last time she ever saw them. She took pictures of people, animals, buildings and anything that caught her attention.  She gave away most of her possessions, knowing how little she was allowed to take on the voyage to Mars. And for the first time she in years she visited her parents without wanting something from them. The last weeks passed by too fast and as she sat in her favourite bar on the final weekend, she reflected how odd it all seemed to her. The extra drinks consumed were contributing to the haze in her mind, but she thought the bar and its patrons all seemed surreal. Then it came to her. The bar was like this last week and the week before. Next week would be the same. The one place in which she spent most of her time would be the same without her. Her contribution, other than financial, was none. In her twenty-eight years of existence, her impact in the world was nil. If I was to die tomorrow how many people would notice or even care?

 

Coming to her Senses

by Maranda Russell

Any idiot could tell how John Rushmore felt about Kiri Taylor. He loved her, had loved her since they first became study partners, and eventually best friends in their sophomore year of college at Kansas State University. His feelings were made obvious by the way his eyes trailed after her, captivated by her every movement, studying every nuance of her body. He loved all of her, the long blonde hair with just the slightest hint of strawberry, her wide and innocent looking blue eyes, and of course her lush figure, although he had to admit that those thoughts were just a little bit X-rated. She was not only gorgeous, but witty and elegant as well. The only trouble was, that Kiri couldn't see any of this. All she saw in herself was someone for others to use and abuse, after all, that's what she was used to.

Perhaps that’s why,  whenever he saw her, it was impossible for John to hide the desire and sadness haunting his eyes as they settled on her beautiful but melancholy face.

Kiri wasn't spoiled, at least not in the traditional sense of the word, but she was extremely self-absorbed. Partly, this was because she had to be concerned with her own survival, due to the lowlife trash that she was used to having in her life. John truly saw Kiri for who she was, all of her strengths, as well as her limitless capacity for self-loathing.

Despite the fact that he despised all of her masochistic tendencies, John stood beside Kiri and supported her every time her choices came around to bite her on the ass. He knew this made him a fool, but he just didn't have the willpower to practice the tough love he knew he should. He was determined that as long as he was around, Kiri would never hit rock bottom alone.

Mostly, Kiri took John's loyalty for granted, lacking the ability to understand the strength of his love for her. Usually, she just thought of him as the best friend a girl could have, although occasionally she did catch a glimpse of his overwhelming devotion and wondered why he cared so much.

No one else had ever shown her such compassion and acceptance. In fact, it was more than her emotionally absent parents and all of her flighty friends could do to take care of themselves, let alone show any interest in her. As for the men she chose to share her life with, they were generally in a class of losers all by themselves. Over the years she had dated them all, the drunks, the abusers, the cheaters, the druggies and those who were outright crooks and took her for everything she had. Every time a relationship of hers ended in tragedy, John was there to help her find her self-respect and get back on her feet. However, as soon as her heart mended, she was back in the game, never failing to find another jackass who would quickly leave her life in ruins. She was self-destructive’ there was no doubt about that. She seemed to find a perverse pleasure in being mistreated, feeding her victim complex even as it destroyed her soul.

As John watched the cycle perpetuate itself again and again, he knew he had to do something. His chance finally came on a quiet Christmas Eve. Kiri was at his house in need of comfort yet again after her latest beau had cleaned out her bank account and run off with a dancer from the local Gentlemen's Club. As he held her close and felt her sobs subside, he noticed how the lights from his Christmas tree reflected off her golden tresses. He couldn't resist the impulse to press a gentle kiss to the dancing lights there. The unexpected caress made Kiri go still and she turned to him with a questioning look in her large blue eyes. He knew the time had finally come to confess his true feelings to her, hoping more than anything that she would give him the chance to show her how a real man treats his lady.

John drummed up all his courage and simply told the truth, his gaze never wavering from her own.

“Kiri, I should have told you this years ago when we first met, but I’m in love with you. I never wanted to make you uncomfortable or chance ruining our friendship, but I simply can't stand by and watch you self-destruct anymore. I want you to always be with me, I swear I will be good to you.”

As he shared his feelings with her, he felt his heart aching with the dreams he had for their future.

 

Charlie's Christmas

by Glenn Parkhurst

Charlie stood on his aluminum ladder hanging his Christmas lights on his house. The temperature hovered around thirty-five degrees and a light snow fell melting on impact making everything damp. The moment of consequence happened in an instant but his perception slowed to a crawl as his brain sorted through the input.

The stapler was harder to fire than he had anticipated and the extra pressure he exerted moved the gun just a bit to the left. First, Charlie knew the staple was going to hit the wire the minute he squished down on the handle. Second, he could almost feel the point of the staple push through the plastic coating. Third, and most important, he saw the lights flicker.

He knew the next thing he would feel would be the jolt of the 110 volts of electricity that powered his Christmas lights. It would race from the wire through the staple, into the steel staple gun and right to his hand. He realized that if he was lucky it would just sting, a little less lucky and it would vibrate his whole insides. If things went real bad, it would toss him off the ladder. The worse that could happen? The jolt would stop his heart. Mercy killing, he thought. Just what I deserve for putting them up while they’re plugged in.

I hate Christmas.

Those thoughts raced through his head in a nanosecond, quicker than the electricity found the path of least resistance.

Charlie didn’t know about the cosmic alignment of events that were even beyond the ability of the odds makers to calculate. The possibility of external forces at work could not be discounted. At the very moment that the staple was pushing its way through the plastic insulator, a curious squirrel met his end in a nearby transformer.

At Princeton University, the Science Lab fired a powerful laser at a passing satellite to test its durability against attack. The laser hit one of the highly polished mirrors that coated the space borne vehicle reflecting it back to, you guessed it. The local radio station fired up a long block of Christmas music for all of its faithful listeners. It was early Christmas Eve. A snowflake landed on Charlie’s nose. Somewhere, a reindeer pawed the ground.

The flash of light that appeared above Charlie’s house in that instant, could be seen as far away as Boise, but nobody there was paying attention. Charlie was momentarily blinded, stunned, shocked, warmed, chilled, shaken, not stirred, and generally roughed up. He held tightly to the ladder while the strange force rearranged his mind. Finally, when his vision had cleared, the tingling stopped, the warmth and chill balanced, he started to descended, still dizzy.

His foot slipped and down the ladder he went, feet hitting each step in a teeth-clattering descent. He tried not to think, which, given the recent event came easy. All he wanted was to get inside, sit down, and try to get his brain back on track. Then he would allow himself to figure out if he was alive.

He opened his refrigerator and reached for the jug of water. Before he could grab it, he stopped. He didn’t want water. He looked at the variety of sodas and rejected them. He glanced at the milk. Almost, but not quite. Suddenly, he wanted eggnog.

 

 

A Simple Christmas

by Glenn Parkhurst

Jerry wrapped gifts like a butcher wraps fish and his Christmas tree looked like a drunken sailor staggering from a Hawaiian Luau. On the outside of his house, a strong winter wind pulled half of his light string from their staples on the eves making tsunami waves instead of the ripples that light strings always formed along his neighbor’s house. The burned out light in the yellowish Frosty Snowman on his front lawn made it look like it was winking suggestively. The Jesus baby in the broken manger, a discarded doll, had been taken from the neighbor’s trash. The missing arm hidden beneath the stained tee shirt that lay tucked around the doll. Like Jerry, the babe had no parents. Jerry was still searching for some discarded plywood to cut out Mary and Joseph.

The neighbors couldn’t agree on Jerry’s house. Some were disgusted, some amused, some angry. They discussed whether it was financial, disregard, or ineptness that Jerry used as an excuse for the unsymmetrical, half-lit lights or the ugly yard display.

“You ever been inside his house?” they asked. “No,” was the only reply.

As some returned from work each evening, they enjoyed the houses on the block, lit and tastefully decorated with the one exception. Like a missing tooth on a starlet, Jerry’s home broke up the continuity of a well-managed neighborhood.

 

 

 

A Picture Perfect Christmas

by Anna James

Chapter One

 Carly Monroe made her way across the crowded room towards the table in the far corner. She barely noticed the tall Christmas tree with its twinkling lights and festive ornaments or the other decorations throughout the hotel that marked the Christmas season. It wasn’t like her to be so distracted because Christmas was her favorite time of the year. As she got closer to the table, she saw her father, Jack, was seated there talking with Kevin, Jayne, Luke and Cindy, two of Carly’s older brothers and their wives. Matt, her youngest brother still hadn’t arrived yet.

It had been a long time since the entire family had been together. Although her father and older brothers and their families still lived locally, Matt now lived in Florida, and she in LA.

They hadn’t spent a Christmas together since Carly and her soon-to-be ex-husband, Eric Foster, had moved to LA four years ago. She was here now, but without a husband and that wasn’t going over well with her brothers. They liked Eric. They thought of him as a member of their family and they didn’t understand why he wasn’t anymore.

She sighed deeply. She hadn’t told them much about why she and Eric were divorcing. She couldn’t. It was just too painful. Besides, it wasn’t any of their business. They were just going to have to accept that she had her reasons.

* * * *

Trent Mackenzie watched as the tall, blonde woman made her way across the crowded room. He’d only caught a glimpse of her when she’d first entered but what he’d seen he’d liked. She was tall and slender, and the dress she was wearing indicated she was curvy in all the right places.

Without a conscious thought, he moved toward her.

Carly was so lost in her thoughts she didn’t see the man who walked in front of her. She collided with him, spilling part of her drink down the front of his jacket. She looked up in horror when she realized what she’d done. “I’m so sor…” she began but was so surprised when she saw his face that she didn’t finish. “Trent, is that you?”

Trent looked at her closely. “Carly?” he asked in shocked surprise. He smiled warmly. “Is that really you?”

Carly grinned. “Yea, it’s me.”

“You look fantastic. I love the short hair. It suits you.”

She placed a tentative hand on her curls. “Thanks,” she said then frowned as she noticed the stains beginning to form on Trent’s jacket. Putting her drink aside, she began to wipe the liquid from his sleeve. “I’m so sorry about this. I wasn’t paying attention and I didn’t see you.”

Trent stilled Carly’s hand. “Don’t worry about it.”

“But your jacket… it’s ruined”

“You didn’t ruin it. I’ll have it cleaned tomorrow.”

“At least let me…”

“Forget the jacket, Carly. Tell me what you’re doing here. I haven’t seen you since you left the firm to move to LA with Eric.”

“It’s the first time I’ve been back,” she admitted. “I suppose you heard about Eric and me?”

“My father told me.”

Carly chose her next words carefully. “We have some issues we just can’t resolve. I¾”

“You don’t have to explain anything to me. It’s none of my business.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Why would I be mad?”

“Eric is your friend and¾”

“You’re my friend too. And as far as I’m concerned we don’t need to talk about you and Eric anymore.”

Carly blew out a sigh of relief.

“So, what are you doing here, tonight I mean?” Trent asked curiously.

Carly smiled. “Oh, my father is receiving an architectural award tonight for the design of that new building over on Fifth Avenue.”

“Your father?”

“Yes, he and his new partner…”

Jack Monroe came up and put an arm around Carly’s shoulder. “Ah, Mac, I see you’ve met my daughter.”

“Carly, is your daughter?

“You’re Mac?”

Trent laughed then nodded. “Your father calls me that. It’s short for Mackenzie.

“You’re my father’s new partner?”

“I am.”

She looked from one man to the other. Shaking her head in confusion she said, “I don’t understand. Trent, you’re a financial analyst at Mackenzie, Foster, and Brown. How did you wind up being my father’s business partner?”

“Carly, do you know Mac?” Jack asked questioningly.

“Yea, Dad. I do. I used to work with Trent.

“Huh,” Jack said thoughtfully.

The lights dimmed indicating that the awards ceremony would be beginning soon.

“Well, you two can get caught up later. We should probably head back to the table right now.” Jack indicated for Carly to precede him then Trent.

When they reached the table Carly noted that Matt had arrived. Her father took the seat next to Matt which left Carly seated next to Trent. There were so many questions she wanted to ask him but the ceremony was starting so they would have to wait.

 

Protolanguage, Cookie Dough, and Mistletoe

by SS Hampton, Sr.

The world was a stinging, churning cloud of smoke and dust. The air was so hot that it parched a throat already dry and sucked the moisture out of the exhausted body so that the skin resembled charred leather. Muffled popping sounds hurt already ringing ears and brought a reaction of crouching with hands clenching desperately at empty air. Blind skeletal hands thrust forward desperately as a way was sought out of the thick, scorching clouds.

“HELP!”

Screams echoed within the boiling clouds as the skeletal hands burst into bright, smoky flames…

* * * *

Tommy Simpson shot upright from his bed, gasping wildly as his wide eyes swept the darkness of the bedroom. He ran a hand across his face and sat on the edge of the bed with his painfully throbbing head lowered. A glance at the digital clock showed 12 - but was it midnight or noon?

He stealthily opened the door and looked down the hallway; dim lights flickered in the living room. He wrinkled his nose and smelled coffee and cooking food, and heard the tinny music of “Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer.” Over all hung the sweet, mysterious aroma of burning cedar wood.

He ventured down the hallway and peeked into the kitchen.

“Hey sleepy head,” a fleshy, full bodied woman with long black hair dressed in a thin t-shirt and jean shorts cheerfully greeted him. “It’s about time you got up. It’s noon!”

“Aunt Jenny?” he whispered in surprise.

“The one and only,” Jenny Danner, Ph.D., laughed. “Coffee? I assume that now that you’re a man you drink coffee.”

“Uh, yeah,” he nodded as he rubbed his painful temples and ventured to the bar stools that lined the wood and granite island between the kitchen and dining room. “Coffee, beer, rum and coke, and rum and egg nog, too.”

“Didn’t your mom tell you I was visiting?”

“No. She’s kinda wrapped up in her boyfriend, Willy Deal the used car salesman.”

“Well, I’m visiting for the holidays,” she said as she placed coffee, sugar, and Irish creamer before him. She held a dirty beer mug up. “Rum and egg nog last night?”

“It’s the holidays,” he replied half-heartedly as he prepared his coffee.

“So it is,” she agreed as she stuffed it in the dishwasher. “Hungry? There’s French toast, home fries, and scrambled eggs with cheese.”

Tommy smiled in spite of himself and nodded. Aunt Jenny always took good care of him when she babysat while his mom was working. She put a plate filled to the brim before him.

“This is good,” he said as he picked at the food. After only a few bites he sighed, “I think I’ll take a shower first. Don’t put it away.”

Aunt Jenny intercepted him and gave him a huge hug. Her heavy breasts pressed against him as she planted a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Welcome home,” she whispered. Her breath was warm and sweet. Her hair tickled his nose.

“Thanks.” Tommy smiled and hugged her back. As they stood with bodies pressed together, he felt a stirring that was a basic nature of all men. He pulled away.

“Are you okay?”

“Sure, sure,” he nodded and staggered down the hallway to the bathroom.

 

Wassail and the White Witch

by Ellen Margret

Chapter One 

 Lord Alexander Telleford moved his chair a little closer to the fire and took a swig of dark, frothing ale. He'd been cold all day, but that was often the case. Rambling old manor houses were draughty places and notoriously hard to heat. In the guidebook, he even pointed this out and suggested that visitors wrap up warm. Not that he really cared if they were cold or not, because he didn’t. He just didn’t want some old dear coming down with pneumonia and putting the finger of blame on him. As it was, he’d already had to fight two court cases, which mercifully he won.

Was it his fault that some daft rugby player had decided to run naked in his pasture and picked up a tick that subsequently gave him Lyme’s disease? Well, that’s what he said had happened, but ticks were everywhere. His lawyer pointed out that the chap could have even picked up the tick on the rugby field. So, the rugby player didn’t get any money out of him and neither did the obese lady who claimed she’d got food poisoning from the restaurant. It turned out she wasn’t alone. A dozen others got it from some bad fish at her local chippie. Alex was glad he had a good lawyer. One day he would have to meet her and tell her so.

The heat began to penetrate his body and he reached for the packet of peanuts. The dog, lying at his heels, suddenly sat up and wagged his tail in anticipation of a treat. “Lie down, Bert. The landlord’s only just fed you. I haven’t had any dinner, nor lunch come to that.”

Bert flopped back down but continued staring at him with his big, brown eyes. “Don't look at me like that. God, I’m hungry. Ruby, the cook, has buggered off to Scotland for Christmas and the rest of the staff have gone...” He scratched his head. “God knows where they’ve gone. Off to sing carols, hang tacky baubles on fake conifer trees, kiss under the mistletoe, write cards to people they haven’t seen for years, eat themselves silly on foods high in sugar and saturated fatty acids, and get pissed on wine. Actually, Bert, there’s nothing wrong with that last part, in fact it sounds rather appealing, just so long as the wine is a claret of repute.” He chomped on a handful of nuts and closed his weary eyes. “Lord knows why folk make such a fuss at Christmas.”

“Because, it's a time for celebration, and a time for giving.”

Alex opened one eye and glanced sideways at the shadowy form of the woman sitting to his right. “I was talking to the dog.”

“The dog isn’t going to answer. He looks like he’s died of terminal boredom.”

“Bert’s just fallen asleep and I wasn’t aware I sounded that boring.”

“Well, you did. I heard you.” She got up and faced him. “You know, Alexander, your view of the festive season is very jaded.”

He eyed the woman from head to toe and back up again, appreciating the well-defined curves of her lovely body and rather liking the way the skimpy, virgin white dress clung to them. He gave one more sweeping glance, deciding that she was really quite tall. Possibly close to six feet. “How do you know my name?”

“You’re wearing it.” She pointed to the nametag on his jacket.

“Ah, that’s a sure give away. In my haste to get to the pub, I forgot to take it off.”

“So, you are Sir Alexander Telleford,” she declared, holding out her hand. “I have heard of you.”

Alex shook her hand but remained seated. “I’d rather not get up. My feet are killing me. I spent all day showing the last visitors of the year around my home. They were a particularly inquisitive lot who asked too many damn questions and let their irritating kids run around like they were in some playground. Of course, then there were the young, dolled up women who seem to see it as their mission to get into my trousers and attach themselves to me in order to gain a title and...well never mind the wealth, there isn’t any. God, those women piss me off.”

She grimaced. “If you don’t want visitors in your home then why do you advertise yourself so widely? Mothwood Manor comes up top on internet searches for days out in England. You also advertise in the papers and have leaflets pushed through doors. I do believe there was even a program on the TV about you.”

“You seem to know a great deal about me.”

“I keep my eyes and ears open.”

“So, have you personally seen Mothwood Manor?” He gave her another appreciative look. “No, don’t answer that. I know you haven’t. I would have remembered you. I am, after all, the only guide.”

“The only guide!” she said, in obvious surprise.