LENGTH: Short-Story
SENSUALITY: Sensual

Cover art (c) Kat Richards 2008
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When he retired from the world of rock music with the break up of his band, Alex retired from the world. Janet is about his only connection with the world anymore, but … she’s just a kid, way too young for an aging rock star.

Janet certainly doesn’t agree—she’s a woman not a kid—and Alex needs someone to take care of him and love him for what he is, not what he has. With the help of a little fairy magic, she discovers he isn’t as hard to convince as she’d thought he would be.

Rating: Sensual.

Genre: Fantasy Romance.

FAIRY ROCK

By

 Daisy Banks

© copyright June 2008, Daisy Banks

Cover Art by Kat Richards, June 2008

New Concepts Publishing

Lake Park, GA 31636

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

Chapter One

Blossom breathed the blue smoke as a fabulous, spine tingling guitar solo began. Encouraged as Alex slept so soundly, she hauled herself up and, with unsteady steps, she wobbled across the table and lay down by his hand. The warmth of his skin close to hers was wonderful. How she loved these rare moments of closeness with him. If only her power were strong enough, she would have even tried to make herself full size to lie with him.

“Duh,duh,der, duh,du,du,der, du,du,der, duh der,” Blossom hummed to herself as she inhaled more of the blue smoke that billowed up from the dish on the table. Her vision was somewhat wavy now, so she closed her eyes, listened to the music boom through the system, so relaxed her bones were like jelly. She smiled fondly, for Alex lay peaceful as the sweetest babe to whom she had ever granted a wish. Her darling snored softly as he laid spread out on the leather sofa, one hand sprawled on the table by the glass dish where his last joint still smoldered.

Oh, how she wanted him. But she was so weak for some reason, the fulfillment of this longing was impossible, and had been for so many seasons. Most days now, she did not even bother to fly. Her thighs wrapped round his index finger, she settled into a sensual sleep that was full of Alex, full of his music, full of the lovely intense smoke they shared and her dreams were of him alone.

The loud blast of the ringing thing woke her as it lay on the table near where she was still wrapped around his finger. Silently as he began to stir, she slid away and cursed the thing that rang and tore her from him. Hidden behind the square bottle half-full of amber liquid, she squinted through one eye. Things seemed clearer that way. He stirred some more and then moving swift so the beaded bracelet rattled, he grabbed the ringing thing. His low, husky voice growled at the insistent noise. “Whoever it is. Piss off!” He dropped the thing on the table and turned over.

Blossom watched with regret, for his lovely long fingered hand yanked back over his body as he turned. The only compensation for not being able to lie by his fingers was the fabulous view of his rear. While she drank in the vision of him, she sank down behind the bottle. He was so very, very beautiful. All that black curly hair that hung down his back, the tight leather trousers that molded so exquisitely to his buttocks and outlined so much at the front. A huge, longing sigh escaped her lips. This mortal was the most beautiful one ever born, and he was hers. She wanted him, needed him, and sniffed back a tear as yet another morning was passing and she still hadn’t found a way to be in his arms. Blossom leaned back against the bottle and slept.

* * * *

The phone rang again and continued to ring, Alex ignored it some more. He waited for the answering service to kick in. For some reason it didn’t. In the end, he grabbed the phone. “I told you, piss off,” he mumbled, but the fast and once familiar voice he heard shot like a javelin through his mind. He sat up, the phone still clasped to his ear.

“Gavin, is that you? My God, it's been how long? How’s L.A. still cool? No way, amazing. No, I’m cool. No, not anymore, she left after I let the Hall. I’m living in the gate-house, come there when you cross the pond. Sure yeah, Friday, sounds good. Yeah, I’ll like, see you then.” Incapable of absorbing anymore, Alex dropped the phone to the table and stretched out on the sofa.

Gavin coming over from the States, cool, coming to talk business, cool, wanting to stay a few days, great. A smile stretched for a second, but God, he was so tired right now. He’d just have a bit of a sleep and then think about it some more. He grabbed the bottle, took a swig and then rolled over on the sofa to sleep.

When finally he woke, it was mid afternoon and Alex sat up, his mouth like a disused drain and his eyes sticky from sleep. He looked at the table and shook his head. He was getting too old for this, entire half a bottle of Jack for breakfast and two good-sized joints that should have lasted far longer than they had. Slowly, as he waited for the aches and pains to kick in, he got up and winced as he heard his knees crack. He'd better eat something and then sort out about getting the place cleaned up a bit if Gavin was coming to stay on Friday.

He ambled into the kitchen and swiftly downed two cups of coffee before he grabbed the phone to ring little Janet. She was the one person he'd met in the village he could rely on, this girl who came in to clean every so often when the place got too bad for him to stand. “Yeah Janet, I got people coming, two days should see it right. Can you come over? Thanks, if I’m out the keys in the normal place.” As he made his third cup of coffee, Alex studied the pile of unopened mail that had built up this month. He took another swig of coffee and shoved the stack of envelopes straight in the bin. Janet would empty it.

Going back into the sitting room, he turned the sounds down for a moment and surveyed what had become his realm. The place was a bit of a tip, but Janet would sort it out. He slumped down on the sofa to think about Gavin’s visit. They hadn’t seen each other for it must be five years now. Not since the band’s appearance on that retro rock program where, unfortunately, it became obvious the rifts that had caused their split remained and every one of them had said some very unpleasant things.

He sighed, thinking about it. He missed the old days. But the band had gone the same way as so many others. They got too big, too soon, too rich and too bad for their own good. The strain of it all had nearly killed him, and as for Paul, he had just dissolved into a little neurotic puddle. Gavin had begun his career move towards sainthood. Their music had suffered and eventually came the well-publicized, very acrimonious split.

His stomach growled and he drank more coffee. What the hell did Gavin want? A little tremor of excitement hit him. Maybe they were going to try getting the band back together?

He wandered into the kitchen and opened the fridge. That green mold stuff was fascinating. He wondered what was under it, and grabbed a chunk of cheese to eat. Janet would sort the fridge. Back in the sitting room, chewing on the cheese wedge, he very deliberately, once he had found the top, screwed it back on the bottle of Jack, putting the bottle on the shelf by the books. He was determined that between now and Friday he would lay off the stuff. Gavin had been a health freak the last time they met and wouldn't understand how he'd gone back to the bottle with such a vengeance. He'd done his own health thing for a while, but after Lisa had left him, it had all seemed kind of pointless.

Now, he didn’t care about any of it. As long as the royalties still trickled into the bank account, he was fine. He went over to the computer and opened his e-mail. There were four hundred and ninety-seven messages. After he deleted the lot, he spent the rest of the afternoon surfing, trying to pick up some news about Gavin off the net.

* * * *

Crouched behind a pile of magazines, Blossom watched him at the computer. Irritation rippled through her. He had asked the cleaner to come. She hated it when the little blonde girl arrived and bounced about the place. Everything was tidy for a couple of days. There were so few places to hide then.

He sat at the screen for ages. She heard him cursing several times and wasn’t surprised when the coffee cup slipped from his hand and smashed on the flagstone floor. She concentrated and struggled up to hover behind his dark curly head for a few moments, while she leaned towards the screen.

Appalled, she looked at the picture of Gavin. He had never had the beauty of Alex, even in the early days. But now, he was old. In the picture on the flickering screen, Gavin looked slim enough, but his brown hair was short and it was going gray. He was wearing glasses to cover up the dreaded wrinkled flesh round his eyes. She shook her head to clear the vision, Alex was muttering a wide range of his very favorite curse words and Blossom thought she knew why. When he shoved the off button hard, she dropped fast to the floor and hid behind the leg of the small table. He was hacked off, she could tell. From looking at that picture she could guess why. Gavin was waving, surrounded by children, and her beautiful Alex, poor thing, he had none.

Blossom sighed. Although she wanted Alex so much, she would have been glad to see him with a female who would give him children to make him happy. The orange, stick insect, Lisa, had done everything to avoid having them, and Blossom had been glad when she had seen the dust the car kicked up, sweep down the drive. That skinny female would not be back.

Alex grabbed the bottle of the yellow liquid. He ripped off the top and took the kind of swig that Blossom knew would lead to a lot more. Crashing down onto the sofa, in three long gulps he finished the bottle. He lay back against the arm of the sofa, the now empty bottle in his hand and murmured, “I’ll kill him, if he wants the rights. I’ll kill him.”

Blossom trembled. This sounded bad. It sounded very bad. She hadn’t seen Alex this upset since Lisa had packed her bag and screamed abuse. She hoped that he wouldn’t be as bad as that again. He had been barely conscious for the next five moons after Lisa had gone. Blossom sighed. Maybe she could try to find a way to help him?

She left him as he gazed blank eyed up at the ceiling, and sneaked out into the kitchen, needing to think. The window was open so she hauled herself up the front of the unit using the drawer handles. By the time, she got to the top she was panting and gasping. She rested to get her breath back and then crept out of the window.

Immediately, she narrowed her eyes, dazzled by the bright afternoon sunlight. She so rarely came outside now. How she wished she had some of the dark glasses Alex used, but there was no fairy equivalent and even when she had gone through the whole box of toy solider stuff Alex kept, she hadn’t found any. The boots she wore had come from there. They were comfortable and she liked them, the same as the combat trousers and shirt. That toy box had been a boon. She was certain Alex wouldn’t like anyone dressed in raspberry pink. The commando stuff was much more his scene. Well, it had been when he had met Lisa. By Pan's twin horns, how she'd cried to watch him with Miss fake tan. Well, that was all over and he was all hers now, just as he had been when she had first found him. Her chin in her hand, she watched the flowers grow as she wondered how she could help him. When the sun got to be simply too much, she returned to the house, no nearer a solution

LENGTH: Short Story
SENSUALITY: Spicy

Cover art (c) Eliza Black 2010
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Kathleen had fled to her grandmother's garden to escape the pain and humiliation, wishing she could escape the marriage her father had arranged for her. She hadn't truly expected anything at all to happen when she voiced the words her grandmother had taught her.

It was a weak spell at best and Ash wasn't all that inclined to help, even though she was a beautiful witch. She roused his temper as much as she'd aroused him, however, and he wasn't at all sorry he'd brought her down to his size.

Rating: Spicy-adult situations/(magical) forced seduction.

Genre: Fantasy Romance.

 DOWN AT THE BOTTOM OF THE GARDEN

By

Daisy Banks

© copyright by Daisy Banks, Nov. 2007

Cover Art by Eliza Black, Nov. 2007

New Concepts Publishing

Lake Park, GA 31636

www.newconceptspublishing.com

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author's imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

Chapter One

Kyle and I have been lovers for months, our baby will be born in January. I thought you'd like to know.' The words Kathleen had heard from the sickly sweet voice down the phone still rang in her head. She had fled to the far end of the garden, a ball of fury lodged in her stomach. She'd suspected he didn't love her, but this a week before their wedding.

The weeds were high. The lazy afternoon bees buzzed as Kathleen looked down at the massive blue diamond ring. Tears blinded her vision. "Bloody ugly thing," she sobbed as she twisted it from her finger.

The only thing that prevented her from throwing the ring into the ditch by the back wall was the memory of her father's insistence that things of value were important. She shoved it into the tiny pocket of her jeans. "Bloody, ugly thing."

She sniffed the tears back and smelled the sweetness of honeyed Alyssum. There was no way she was marrying Kyle De Corsie next week, no matter what everyone thought.

The dress would stay on the nasty purple silk hanger and they could all whistle Dixie until they felt better.

If she didn't arrive at the tiny church, though, the press would be on her tail hotter than the hounds of hell. She'd be in all the Sundays, Weekly's, Daily's and anything else, her picture plastered over the net once more, the poor little rich girl who just couldn't cope. Even worse than that would be her grandmother's tearful disappointment. They were only here at the cottage for the wedding and grandma was so very thrilled. Despair trickled over her, there was no way out. Daddy had stitched up the deal with Kyle and his publishing company so tightly.

He was a grand man was Daddy, but he didn't understand how it felt to be a twenty year old heiress. At home she'd been leeched on by any and every guy with a dwindling stash from sea to shining sea. There had never been one who wasn't more interested in the money than in her, and Kyle was just the same.

A huge sigh escaped her as she sat amongst the remnants of grandma's garden nursery. This part of the garden hadn't changed since she was a child and grandma insisted it stayed that way. The weeds were thriving, the ragged, spiny sticky weed rampant and the old fence posts struggling to stand tall. The rickety shed was lopsided now, part of the roof crumbling away and only cobwebs grew in its window.

"Be dammed the lot of them! I won't marry him. By Nightshade, by Foxglove, by the bitter dregs of the cup, be dammed if I will." Her tears slid softly down her cheek and she buried her face in her hands.

* * * *

Ash only stirred when the hard toe of Beech's boot hit his thigh, not once but twice before he finally lifted a lazy eyelid. "What boy?" he asked.

"Tis a spell, a witchy at work, a spell like I ain't heard for a generation of them." Beech had grabbed his tunic and was pulling hard.

"What?" Ash couldn't be bothered, not tired as he was, his tongue like a sandy path from last night's nectar. T'was just as well to sleep the day away, for t'would be just the same as the last. Life had been dull for months and if they didn't get an invite from the court soon he was fair likely to go mad.

"Rouse yer self. 'Tis a spell. There's a witch working out in the weeds. Come on. If we're quick we'll have her as ours for as long as she'll stay." Beech was already moving towards the door.

"If this is a jape, I'll kick yer arse from here to the middle of next week boy." Ash lifted his head and let the dust motes settle before he opened his eyes. A witch in the garden, unlikely at best, but if it were true that would certainly liven things up.

"Will ye shift yerself my bucko? 'Tis a witch. Listen to the bloody words. Look at her, green, red, and white, look at the body, listen to the poor plaintive creature. She's ours for the taking. Shift yer bloody arse." The fervour of Beech's words hit home and Ash hauled himself up.

He looked through the dull, dingy window of the shed. His jaw dropped and the flood of blood to his groin made him wince. For once, his brother was right. Red, soft hair slid over her shoulders in waves. It shimmered with a multitude of autumn leaf colors and hung to her waist-wonderful her hair. T'was as beautiful as the sleek coat of a vixen. When she opened her tearful eyes, they were green as the pines in winter, green as the dappled glades in the forests and spoke softly of love. The white skin of her breast and the hand that beat against it looked softer than the winter's snow. The power of her words was weak, like the sick sometimes mumbled, but she had the idea. She just needed some help. Poor, wee little thing. She fair stole his heart, or could do if he let her.

"Have yer bloody looked enough boy?" Beech kicked him again and Ash just grinned. His mouth stretched slowly in a smile. This was the best news they'd had in years.

"Aye, for once yer misbegotten toadling, yer right. Come on, haul yer arse out of here or she'll be gone and her like not seen again for an eon." The door creaked on its old hinges, but she did not turn. They crept to where she sat, her head bowed in her hands, and Ash could have wept with her heart wrenching sobs. Poor, wee little witch, her heart so heavy that the tears spilled through her fingers.

"We heard ye calling and have come." Ash spoke loud and strong and waited impatiently for her response.

Kathleen turned but saw nothing, there was a tinny stinging jumble in her ears. She scanned behind her to find nothing but the tall weeds. The air seemed to still, hushed now and she shivered as she waited for the roll of thunder or the flash of lightening. Time seemed to stop as she listened and looked.

"Down here yer dozy doxy," Ash finally called. Beech grabbed his elbow.

"Is that how yer address a lady? Is that how ye speak with one who is part of nature? Yer bloody fool." Ash blinked at his vehemence.

"Lovely Lady, we hear yer sorrow. We hear yer spell. If yer would have it so, we will make it well." The ancient words swelled through the afternoon light. Beech's voice reached up through the tangled weeds.

Ash watched her pale face, the wide tearful eyes. He had never heard tell of a lovelier witch, that sweet face with its tip tilted nose, the full breasts and long legs in those ridiculous blue things the mortals wore. Every part of him twitched in anticipation. This one would be a witch worth having.

"What the …?" Kathleen turned and scanned the weeds again. The tinny noise only made her wonder if the press had bugged the spot. She had fallen for that nasty trick before now.

She wiped her face quickly, tried to drag on a confident expression as she looked again. Another photograph of her looking dazed and confused plastered all over the papers would be more than she could stand.

"Lady we hear ye. We will help in yer work. Yer have only to call on us and we will be with ye." This was the last part of the magic but Ash wondered if she would hear it at all, she seemed so distracted. The soft hair flew about her as she twisted and turned. He almost expected the tiny buttons on her blouse to pop as she took such deep breaths.

Once more, he solemnly intoned, "Lady we hear ye." The words swelled through the grasses, thrumming loudly as they grew in power. Finally, she looked down in their direction.

"Contact," whispered Beech as her green eyes beheld them.

"Oh my God." Her hand flew to her mouth.

"Lady, we will aid ye in yer work," Beech said.

Ash flicked a cobweb strand from his tunic and smiled up at her. "We heard yer call." Her wide green eyes were pools of delight and the ripe heaving breasts made his mouth suddenly dry.

Trembles of shock ran over Kathleen's flesh. The tiny creatures looked almost human but the way they glimmered wasn't normal and she could have sworn they had wings. Yes, shimmering, wings of green and blue. Kathleen shook from head to toe. This was just like her grandmother's stories about the little people, but that was all such nonsense. Her skin prickled as she gazed at them. This was crazy, they were crazy, maybe some kind of new beetle from Europe or something. She hated beetles and these were big ones. Whatever they were wasn't normal for a cottage garden, of that she was sure.

"What are you?" Kathleen bent down and looked closely at them

"As a witch we know yer won't howl, tis fairies we are and always have been." The words echoed to her as one bowed, his green cap in his hand.

"What? You're not any such thing." She shook her head and closed her eyes. "You're most likely the residue of that stuff Kyle got me to try last month." She ran her hand over her forehead, opened her eyes expecting them to be gone. No, the talking beetles were still there.

Ash frowned. Disgust slid over him. The wench was no witch, not even a trainee and she had not greeted them properly. She was a meddler and worse didn't believe what her lovely green eyes saw. Fury rushed in a hot blaze up from his knees. The girl was young and fair, but she was no witch and had caused them to reveal their presence in this place. He glanced at Beech. The enraptured expression told him his brother had not registered any of the dangers of this.

"It must be the drink or that stuff I took, to see talking beetles, it must be. I swear never again." Her voice broke into his thoughts.

"None of yer disbelief lass, we came when yer called, we've upheld our side of the ancient bargain." Ash did not bother to bow.

"What are you going on about beetle?" She glared, her luscious lips pursed and the green eyes shot sparks at him.

"If yer want yer spell to work yer'll need a wee bit of assistance, hence we came when yer called. If t'was just a game girl, then go back to yer house and leave us in peace." Ash looked her over once more and Beech put a restraining hand on his arm.

"Yer can't talk to her like that."

"I can because she's a fool and don't know what she's started." He shook Beech's arm away and glared at her.

"Who are you calling a fool? I'll squash you! You're just a nasty little beetle, you nasty little bug." She lifted her high-heeled foot and his fury blazed bright.

The sky spun, the grass shimmered, the breeze in the leaves softly murmured and Ash found himself nose to nose with her. Her loud shrieks as she looked around her did not bother him at all. He was furious with her. He grabbed her arm, turned her round and landed a hand-stinging swat on the seat of her jeans. She yelped and twisted from his grasp. "What have you done to me you rotten little beetle! What have you done?"

"Naught but what yer were asking for and if ye carry on howling I'll give yer a lot more of it." Ash scowled at her. Close like this she was beautiful but the petulant mouth made his hand itch to continue to try to cure it.

Beech stood opened mouthed in shock at what had happened. Ash met his stunned gaze with a shrug. He had never done anything like this before. The blistering rage had never filled him like this. He wondered if Beech understood or if he would begin bleating about the rules to the thing. Beech's eyes were almost as wide as hers, and Ash could only nod to his brother. This demonstration of his power made him glow. It was a great satisfaction to know he alone had brought a mortal down to their size, not only a mortal, but a sort of witchy one, too. No full-blown powerful witch to be sure, but she was a beauty with the witchy look to her. A shame she seemed such a silly, spoiled wench. He watched as she tried to rub the sting from his hand away. T'was good to start as you meant to go on. No nonsense. Beech was busy bowing to her again.

Kathleen was still rubbing the seat of her jeans as she watched one of them bow. "Put me back to normal and do it now!" She stood hands on hips now as the bowing one rose and she spun round to see the nasty one laugh, his hand had hurt more than she would have thought possible.

"Ha, and as if I would, yer bad tempered wench. Yer disturb us from our sleep, insult us, threaten to squash me and spark the magic without a thought. Ye'll stay as yer are till I'm good and ready."

"Brother, tis not the way tis done this, tis not the way at all, she should be willing, be wanting to take the power, not forced. The magic t'will all go wrong. I swear it will." The other one ignored her as he spoke.

"Put me back the way I was!" Her high-pitched shriek filled the afternoon air. The nasty one grabbed her arms and shook her.

"Cease the squawking or we'll have the cat on us." He told her firmly.

"Put me back," Kathleen managed to say as she twisted.

"No." He held her until she stopped struggling. "I'll only do it when yer've earned it, when ye've some sense in yer empty wee head."

Tears began to slide slowly down her face and she let out a sob. The other one hauled her to him and glared at the one with the hot blue eyes.

"Now look what ye'v done. The tears of a witch ain't lightly shed. If her's really angry ye could be dead. Will yer stop yer foolishness Ash!" His singsong intonation as he patted her head was followed by soothing hushing sounds.

"Brother, she ain't no witch! Mayhap she's some talent, but she's just a bad tempered female who don't know nothing." He turned away and she hoped he would go.

The flurry of hissing fur was the first she realized the cat was there. The tall one let out a yell as he kicked it as hard as he could, the one whose arm was round her, grabbed her and bundled her into the shed. The tall, blue-eyed one followed, gasping as he shoved the door shut.

"See, I told ye! All that hullabaloo and what did ye bring us but the damn cat." The blue eyes glared at her again and Kathleen sank to the floor sobbing.

"There, there lady, don't ye fret now. We'll put yer back, I swear it. We'll help with yer spell. Don't take on so." A hand rested gently on her shoulder.

Kathleen wept uncontrollably her loud gasping sobs filled the air.

"Twen't no proper spell that anyway. T'were just a wish, was it not?"

Kathleen raised her eyes to his blue glare and saw the gleam from across the dingy shed. If he hit her again she would kill him. The judo would come in useful for something. The first time he had surprised her, but if he tried that again she'd be ready. Another sob broke from her mouth as he stood over her. How could the little beetle have got so tall?

"It were just a wish and yer muddled it up with some words ye've heard or read. T'were no spell at all. Is it not so?" he said.

She lifted her head and nodded slowly. "I don't know any spells. It's just I don't want to marry Kyle." Her chin quivered as more tears fell because right now she would even be pleased to see Kyle, to see anyone except this tall blond creature whose blue eyes bored into her and made her afraid. The other one just smiled but this blue gaze made her shiver, and she had never longed so much to tell someone to piss off in her entire life.

Ash sighed. The girl was a real beauty with those teary green eyes to melt the hardest heart and her shuddering breasts enough to stir the coldest flesh to throbbing. The sulky mouth, well perhaps that could be cured. But she was a meddler and they always caused trouble, her tongue was sharp and her temper probably a match for the grand mass of her flaming red hair.

"As I thought, no witch, no spell just a daft wee wench with time on her hands. Have yer no pans to scrub to keep yer busy instead of coming disturbing us?" He scowled down at her on the dusty floor.

"I don't scrub pans. It's the maid's job and anyway there's a dishwasher in the kitchen." She scowled back as she sniffed. "You're a nasty bully and you can damn well leave me alone."

"Why have yer never been taught to be civil?" Ash asked. "And why don't yer want to marry the poor lad who's made such a bad bargain as to get ye for a bride?"

"I don't love him. He doesn't love me. It's all about money and business and I don't want to marry him. That's why I was using Grandma's words."

"So yer were trying someone else's spell." Ash nodded. "Never a clever thing that. Someone else's magic rarely works well." He turned from her and called Beech to him. They walked far enough away so she would not hear.

"We can keep her," he murmured. "The girl has no idea. She don't know the rules."

"Keep her?" Beech whispered.

"Aye, a year and a day, cleaning and cooking and getting this place fit for a visit from decent folk." Ash watched as Beech slowly shook his head.

"T'would not be fair brother. She's just a wee lass, put her back, let her go."

"No, a year and a day, I ain't heard of that one's been done for an age." He grinned.

"No, three days and three nights, tis the normal way of it," Beech murmured.

"Oh come on, we've had no fun since Pan's visit, and her so ripe for it, and just the right size now." His grin spread wider at the thought of her.

"No, three days and three nights then yer put her back as she was. Tis my shed this, not yourn and yer will put her back, if she wants it by then." Beech said firmly. Ash glanced back at her. The lush ripe curves were temptation enough to make him wish his brother's knowledge of the rules was less firmly ingrained.

"Aye brother, as yer say if she wants it by then." His gaze joined Beech's as they both turned back to her.

Kathleen watched as they walked toward her, so similar yet different. The tunics both rust colored, the tights green, the brown boots, both pairs looked in need of polish and certainly weren't Prada. More than the costume party clothes, though, it was the shimmer about them, the glow of their blond hair, the soft sheen to their skin, which drew her gaze. But most of all their glowing eyes could drag her soul from her body if she let them.

One of them had green eyes similar to hers but deeper, richer, fringed with dark lashes and somehow softer than the blue blaze of the other's. Then there were those blue eyes like a brilliant deep ocean, they glittered and the sweat trickled between her breasts as that blue gaze stayed fixed on her. Thoughts the like of which she rarely had filled her mind and suddenly her clothes all felt too tight, too hot, too restricting. The mouth under those blue eyes twitched into the most enticing smile she had ever seen.

LENGTH: Short Story
SENSUALITY: Sweet/Sensual

Cover art (c) Alex DeShanks
ISBN: 978-1-60394-122-8
Download $ 2.50
(s&h not included in price)

Gilly, recently divorced, can't seem to get her ex off of her mind … until a wish made on the Christmas tree results in a date with a traffic cop she met after a minor fender bender. Adam is nothing like her ex, and everything she needs in a man.

Rating: Sweet/Sensual.

Genre: Fantasy Romance.

THE CHRISTMAS FAIRY

By

Daisy Banks

© copyright December 2007, The Christmas Fairy

Cover art by Alex DeShanks, © copyright December 2007

ISBN: 978-1-60394-122-8

New Concepts Publishing

Lake Park, GA 31636

www.newconceptspublishing.com

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author's imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

Chapter One

Gilly wiped her eyes as she hunted through the cupboard. Even the simplest task could reduce her to tears these days. She dumped stuff on the floor behind her, stuff she hadn't even bothered to unpack since the move here three weeks ago. The large brown box she searched for, was of course, right at the bottom of the pile. She hauled the box out and shoved the other stuff back.

"I don't know why I'm bothering," she murmured as she carried the box into the small lounge. The décor in here managed to revolt her anew each time she entered the room. The mixture of reds and orange enough to turn her stomach, but this was a rented flat, and she didn't intend to stay too long.

For a moment, more tears welled, and she simply stood to try and blink them away. This had become a habit in the past six months, and she knew if she blinked hard enough and thought about what a real selfish swine James was, they would go. She was certain some of the people she worked with thought she had a serious eye complaint. There was nothing wrong with her eyes, the problem lay in her heart still.

Six months passed, and her heart was as frozen as it had been the day she found out. Her sense of betrayal had not diminished from that day to this, she did not think it ever

would. Yet still she thought about him all the time. To know he had been seeing someone else for so long before telling her still made her feel the biggest fool on the planet. A shudder passed through her, for a moment she saw his eyes again as he had said their marriage was over. Any sane person would have guessed months before, but no, not her. Age did not always gift wisdom, and for her it had been no guarantee against folly. To be thirty-four and feel such a fool was bitter indeed.

Taking a deep breath, she put the box next to the tree. What had possessed her to buy such a large tree she had no idea. But the pine smelled sweet, and, if she had nothing else this Christmas, she would have that scent to give her memories of what Christmas could be like.

She turned the radio on, but the sentimentality of the first song took her mind back to where she did not want to go. The memory of Christmas shopping that first year with James was too much tonight. All the thoughts of him were too much. Turning the radio off, she poured herself a large glass of wine. This was rapidly becoming her cure all. If she drank enough of it, the memories disappeared into a nice foggy place. Gilly took a large swig, she gritted her teeth to put the decorations on the tree, it would be stupid not to do so after buying the thing.

She opened the box and unwrapped the first decoration, she sighed, it would be this one wouldn't it. The golden little heart that James gave her that first Christmas they were together. The thing lay in her palm, and somehow the first instinct to crush it dissolved as tears slid once more down her face. He had loved her then, of that, she was certain. Eight years was not such a very long time, how could things have changed so much that he didn't love her now? Steeling herself, because if she did this with every one of the baubles she would be here all night, she slid the little heart back into the box. There was no way she could live with that hung on the tree. After some more wine, she unwrapped four or five decorations and hung them up. To do it in bulk and not think back on the memories that any of them brought into the open was easier. Perhaps she should just have binned the lot and bought new.

Her third glassful was empty by the time Gilly got to the last thing in the box. She smiled at it, suddenly glad she hadn't binned the box. This was the fairy, her fairy, all hers from home. She had brought this with her when she and James first moved in together. Carefully, she unwrapped her. The old girl was still as beautiful as ever, even if her silver trimmed, pink gown was a bit tired looking now. The lovely crystal wings, she dusted them off carefully, yes they still shone. The little face was so very realistic with its pouting pink lips. She had always thought this fairy was simply perfect. For a brief moment, everything else slid away, and she was a little girl again, with the real magic of Christmas just within reach.

Gilly attached the fairy to the tree and straightened her up. The old girl always looked as though she had been out on the tiles, it was almost a daily job over the Christmas holidays to keep her straight on the tree. One year she and James hadn't bothered, and the old girl had drooped so much she nearly fell off. She stood back to admire the tree, yes very pretty, seasonal, and now she'd had enough. Enough wine to make her sleepy, enough memories to make the pain bite sharp. Taking a last large swig of wine, she curled up on the sofa and closed her eyes.

* * * *

As Wilomena opened her eyes, a ripple of excitement slid over her flesh for this was the last year of her punishment, and, when the tree was taken down, Willomena would be free to fly. The enchanted sleep would not take her, and she would be free. Her eyes scanned the room. Where on earth was she? This didn't look right at all. The mortal girl who held her for the time of her punishment didn't have much taste, but this was the worst yet. All the colors were foul. What had happened to the furniture? The over-stuffed flowery stuff was gone. There was only a plain sofa, on it her girl was asleep.

Wilomena looked closer, yes the poor creature was getting those nasty lines, looked like the she'd put on a few pounds too. Poor thing, she would be glad to be gone. Watching them as they aged like this was dreadful. She'd been almost fond of the girl that first year, the starry blue eyes looking up at her, the little voice, 'she must be the prettiest fairy ever.' That soft little voice had done much to reassure Wilomeena she wouldn't end up in a bin.

There had been one Christmas that was great fun some years ago, when she had woken in the other house, not the first and certainly not this revolting room. Her girl had a partner, and my goodness for mortals they certainly weren't the shy and retiring sort. She hadn't seen stuff like that since she had become a decoration. The energy they had created had been sweet indeed, but, by the next year, all that loving seemed to be gone. Each following year her girl had seemed a quieter creature, and sometimes she and the male did not even seem to speak.

Wilomeena had always thought of mortals as cold creatures, and those years as she watched her girl become almost a shadow had reinforced the thought. She simply did not know how the mortal females put up with it, no fairy would have stuck around with a male like that. But mortals were different.

Hanging on the top of the tree, Wilomeena mused on how good it would be to be able to go into the garden and rejoin the court. The first thing she would do was get a new dress, then she'd maybe find the Thistlebrite brothers. They were always willing and entertaining company. The thought made her shiver, yes a lovely thought that. Much better than this

depressing place and her tired looking mortal who snored now.

She wondered where the male was, and horror crept over her. There was no sign of him. No socks lying by the sofa, none of his shoes, even the smell of him was missing. Sympathy moved through her. Perhaps he had perished, that might explain the empty wine bottle and the empty glass that her girl held tilted towards the floor. Poor thing.

Wilomeena had never felt quite so impotent as this, after all the girl's care, because she did care in her way. Always that smile, always tenderness when the girl wrapped her up. She had to do something for the poor creature. But what? Her armoury was so small under the circumstances, but while she was conscious she could still grant a mortal a wish. This poor creature that lay dribbling now as she snored deserved one. She would try this Christmas, her last here, to do something for the poor girl.

* * * *

Gilly woke cold and stiff, she stretched and picked up the fallen glass. This falling asleep on the couch was becoming a habit too. But it was better than the lonely bed, the empty expanse of space where James should be. Well, he wouldn't be again, and that was becoming more certain by the day, the letter from the solicitor had told her that.

Divorce proceedings for the New Year, what a lot she had to look forward to. The prospect terrified her. Years of loneliness, losing herself in her thoughts of what she had done wrong and why James had found someone else so much more desirable.

Looking over at the clock, she could just make out the little blue numbers without her glasses. Well, it was Christmas Day already. She would go to bed for a few hours and then go over to her parents. The thought of the forced merriment with her parents, her brother Mark and Paula, his wife, turned her stomach, but for the sake of her niece and nephew, Molly and Tom, she would do her best. She dragged herself up off the couch and went into the bedroom. The bed was cold, and never had she felt lonelier in her life.

* * * *

Wilowmeena watched her go and reeled at the waves of bitter sorrow from her girl. Such dreadful sorrow, she had to do something for the poor creature. Such a sad bunch were mortals, but mostly when she became conscious each year and she got stuck on the tree, her girl had seemed happy enough. There had been occasional little blips, like the year the girl had bad spots and sulked all the way through a Christmas party and, of course, the quiet years recently, but never anything like this.

Wilowmeena dozed for a bit, this was the worst part when you woke and wanted to party and were just stuck on a tree. It was very uncomfortable really, but she had seen out her twenty-five years, and soon it would be over. When she went back home she would make sure she never got caught stealing nectar again.

Mind you, it had been the dress that had done it, not just the theft. She had recognized the look in Titania's eyes immediately. Oberon would have let her off, she knew it, but not Titania, not when Wilomena had a better dress than she did. She sighed at the memory. Of all the fairies that there were, the Queen was the one who could be so very nasty. The sneer from Titania as she was sentenced had been a most unpleasant one, and she wondered once more how on earth Oberon could put up with his bad tempered wife.

Soon it would be morning, and then she'd have a look at her girl again and try to work out what had happened and how she could do something about it. She yawned, life really was rotten stuck on a tree, but of course, that was the punishment bit.