Free Dark Enchantment by Janine Ashbless Page A

focus again.
    ‘It’s a start,’ she allowed, regaining her grip on his cock.
    He looked at her intently, his smile fading, a vertical line between his brows.
    ‘Bugger this,’ he muttered. Then he pushed her gently from his lap and tucked his decidedly unco-operative prick into his clothes again, his fingers fumbling on the buttons.
    ‘What’s wrong?’
    ‘Nothing.’
    ‘Where are you going?’ Charlotte cried as he stood up.
    ‘To bed.’ He stooped and picked her up, cradling her easily in his arms. ‘And you’re coming with me. Don’t waste your breath arguing.’
    ‘Yes, Chief,’ she said.
    ‘James. Or Jim.’
    ‘Chief.’
    He laughed. He carried her right through the long corridors of the Royal Hippodrome down to where the ornithopters were parked on the plaza. They passed people Charlotte knew, and she twined her arms about his neck and looked at their shocked faces doe-eyed, pleased that Freddy would know about this long before morning, that there would be no need for awkward negotiations.
    As they approached the ornithopter bays they walked straight past a bunch of engineers and pilots who were drinking together. They gaped at the sight of their Chief with Charlotte in his arms, then began to cheer and stamp their approval. Even the Hon. Alicia Holdstock, who was draped over the laps of three engineers, flashed a grin and waved.
    Charlotte took a look at the Chief’s face then. It was set with determination but there was a glitter of a proud smile in his eyes. He caught her glance and right in the doorway to the bays he paused, ignoring the whooping of his men, and kissed her.
    Charlotte knew then that he was right. The war was over. Nothing could go back to being the same.

Ruby Seeds
    ‘CHAMPAGNE COCKTAIL?’
    He materialises at my elbow, a glass in either hand, as I’d hoped. He’s been watching me on and off for an hour, but my going out on the balcony has spurred him into action. There’s an autumnal bite to the night air so we’re almost alone. I give him a sideways smile.
    ‘You don’t look like a wine waiter.’ Then I take the glass, which has been overfilled. The cocktail is a pale red. My fingertips brush his.
    ‘No?’ His grin is insouciant. ‘What do I look like then?’
    I put my back to the balcony railing. The drop to the hotel terrace garden below is two storeys and the cold rail rests right across my bare shoulder blades, an inch above the back of my glittery dress. I give him an appraising once-over, rewarding him for his cheek. In truth he doesn’t look like a waiter because he’s too old, and too dishevelled compared to the slick youths who’ve been doing the serving. His tie hangs open at his throat. His face is bony with a broken nose and green eyes and incongruously dark lashes. He has intriguing hands: long and craggy, the knuckles prominent. ‘You look like you might be fun,’ I tell him.
    ‘Patrick.’ He tilts his glass towards me.
    ‘Saffy.’ The champagne flutes kiss and then we watch each other as we sip. The taste takes me by surprise: something that pink should be sweet but despite the fruity aroma the cocktail is sharp. Memory comes in a rush:
Yellow rind breaking in his hands reveals a treasure of packed translucent arils like gems, not the insipid pink of fruit from modern supermarkets but a deep, luscious, almost purple red, juice running from the crushed tissues
.
    With a sharp intake of breath I refocus on my surroundings: the hotel balcony, the party, Patrick. ‘How do I look to you?’ I wonder.
    There’s a hint of teeth in his smile; he recognises he’s being challenged. ‘Bored with the party.’
    I’ll grant him that, though he doesn’t score high. ‘I’ve been to a lot of parties.’
    ‘At first I thought you were one of the athletes.’ That gives his gaze an excuse to drop from my face and go exploring. ‘A swimmer maybe, with a strong beautiful shape like that. But –’ he rescues himself from simple lechery by suddenly