TITILLATING TUESDAY - A CLOUD OF HAWTHORNE

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Henley raced through brambles and thickets until he reached the barn at the far end of the property. Gaspar, his ten year old gelding, was in a stall munching on a pile of fresh alfalfa. He looked up when Henley entered and gave a soft whinny. Henley grabbed the saddle pad and threw it over Gaspar’s brushed back. He placed the heavy leather saddle on top, making sure it was set comfortably below the withers before swinging the girth under his belly and synching it down.

“There’s a good boy,” Henley said soothingly, as he mounted the fine horse. “Are you ready for some exercise? Heeya,” he yelled.” The horse took off at a gallop into the warm, early afternoon.

TITILLATING TUESDAY - A CLOUD OF HAWTHORNE

CHAPTER TWELVE

Henley put the crockery teacup to his mother’s lips and tipped the fragrant herbal tea into her quivering mouth. She pushed it away.

“Stop behaving like a baby, Mother. You’re being absolutely ridiculous.”

Edith turned her cheek to him and put her nose in the air.

“I’m being ridiculous? Have you taken a good look at yourself, Henley?” 

Edith glared over at Rosetta who was busy kneading dough into a soft, silky ball. When the consistency was to her liking, she rolled it into an oblong pancake, rubbed soft, unpasturized butter onto the smooth surface, and sprinkled brown sugar, cinnamon, and currents over top. She turned up the edges at one end and rolled until it was a tubular shape. Slicing along the tube, she cut a dozen cinnamon filled circles, which she placed on a greased cookie sheet to bake in the wood cookstove.

“Think about what you’re doing, Henley,” Edith continued. “Getting involved with a servant girl who bakes bread, cleans and gathers herbs. Your grandfather would turn in his grave if he knew.” Henley just laughed.

“I doubt it, Mother. If memory serves me, Henley the first was a renegade, a libertine. Yes, he’d be turning in his grave alright, wanting out.”

TITILLATING TUESDAY - A CLOUD OF HAWTHORNE

CHAPTER SEVEN

Edith Hornbrook dipped the dry biscuit in her tea and nibbled on the moistened end. A lovely assortment of smoked ham, eggs, scones with marmalade, fresh fruit, and local cheeses were spread across the linen tablecloth in front of her, but she wasn’t hungry. In fact, the sight of it made her stomach turn. On the other hand, Wesley’s appetite was heartier than ever. Taking a swallow of his milky tea, he consumed the last of his scone with marmalade and ham, then heaped another serving of everything onto his plate. Although not as gregarious an eater, Proberta, nonetheless, appeared ravenous. Edith couldn't avoid noticing how the two of them chatted breezily, stealing glances that seemed to show more than just a brother and sisterly affection. This perturbed her greatly. Meanwhile, Henley II had yet to make an appearance.

Cloud of Hawthorne

CHAPTER SIX

Proberta was furious. She paced back and forth in front of the roaring fire Beckworth had built in the drawing room fireplace. After days, even months, of putting up a stoic front regarding her Henley, she now did nothing to hide her indignation. She had been stood up.
Wesley walked over from the bar carrying a crystal glass filled with sweet sherry.
“Here you go, my dear Proberta,” Wesley said, handing her the glass. “This will warm your spirits. Drink up.”
“You’re a fool to think a mere sherry will warm my spirits,” she said sharply. Nonetheless, she tossed back the wine in one gulp, then handed the empty glass back to a stunned Wesley. He returned to the bar, uncertain whether to refill her glass. Proberta watched him go, then quickly grabbed and drank a glass of champagne from the tray that Randolph was passing around. When Wesley returned, she seemed to have softened.
“Thank you, Wes.” She quickly took the glass from him, this time taking a small, albeit significant sip. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. I really shouldn't have done that when you’ve been so kind to me.” She took another gulp of the sherry. “I’m just fed up with that cousin of yours.” She moved closer to Wesley so that her arm brushed against his hand. “Yes, I think I am feeling a tad bit warmer after all,” she giggled. “Oh Wes, you do understand women, don’t you?”

CLOUD OF HAWTHORNE

Chapter Five

Edith waited on the front porch of the mansion for the group of young people to make their way to the stables in preparation for the two o'clock hunt. Neighbors had gathered around the large red barn as Rodney and Sykes, the two stablehands, brushed and tacked the horses before guiding them out to their prospective riders.
Dressed in proper fox hunting attire; beige breeches, tweed jacket, tightly buttoned pastel shirt, brown leather gloves, and bowler helmet, Henley stood proudly beside Gaspar, his ten year old gelding. His brown field boots, already crusted in mud from trying to calm the horse, spoke volumes. Henley and Gaspar loved the hunt, and had since the time they were fourteen and three respectively, when they were both taken out for the first time. Young Henley had basically helped Sykes raise and train the colt, which was foal to one of his father's best brood mares. Henley remembered the difficulty he had convincing his father that he should have the horse. The horse, his father argued, was too small to race, his stance and coloring not good enough for breeding, but Henley was determined, and his father finally relented.
Next, Rodney brought out White Socks, a deep brown quarter horse with white hooves, who stood seventeen hands high. White Socks was determined as much as frisky, and was a favorite for Wesley when he came to visit. Becky, a gentle but eager filly, was presented for Proberta to ride.

CLOUD OF HAWTHORNE

CHAPTER FOUR

Henley awoke with a start. A dim, early morning light bled in through the white linen drapes. He looked around, expecting to see a crackling fire, dried herbs hanging from the rafters, and a beautiful gypsy woman sitting by his side. Instead, he saw the same blue and gold wallpaper. The large Henry IV dresser still stood tall and stoic against the back wall, and the writing desk and armchair, positioned directly alongside the settee, were as they should be. The painting of great uncle James III, his riding crop not only visible, but at the ready, was hung miserably at the opposite end of the room. He stared at it for a long while. Would Henry have known Rosetta's ancestors? He wondered which of his relatives, or family for that matter, knew of the gypsy family that lived so close to the Hornbrook estate. Then he wondered if there even was a gypsy family, or whether the exotic beauty he visited in his dream wasn't just that, a figment of his imagination.

A CLOUD OF HAWTHORNE

CHAPTER THREE

After a disastrous dinner at which Proberta barely touched a morsel of food, while his mother threw barbs at him from across the table, Henley sat in his father’s overstuffed armchair smoking a cigar and sipping a fine Hennessey. Women. He just didn’t understand them. What was Proberta thinking, behaving like a spoiled child in front of everyone? She was spoiled. Most girls of her station in life were, of no fault of their own he supposed. But he knew as well as she did, that she was not terribly interested in him as a husband. If she had been, he would have been the one she flirted with at social events, or swooned over during crocket matches. So why this display? There was some mischief afoot, he could smell it. 

A CLOUD OF HAWTHORNE

CHAPTER TWO

Henley towel dried his hair, slapped on some cologne, and walked into the bedroom where Beckworth had laid out his evening wear. He had called his manservant off his duties so he might have some privacy to consider the events ahead of him. With Proberta and her parents due to arrive at seven, he had little, if any time to get out of his present situation. The proposal was expected. Although his father seemed less than interested in the whole affair, his mother was hell-bent on his marrying society’s most eligible debutant. Proberta’s parents, Sir Miles Gerber, and his charming wife, Alexandra, couldn't be happier. As for the young woman in question, Henley felt that, like him, she was just doing her duty. After observing her at cocktail parties and balls, Proberta seemed more inclined to be a reckless flirt than to want to settle for one man, particularly someone like Henley. She was witty, clever, and gorgeous, and knew it. Henley had a  reputation for being only moderately good looking, uninterested in hunting, fishing, or athletics, all of which were practically mandatory for those of the male persuasion, and to top things off, he was a bore at social events. Once married, Henley knew all this and more, would only increase her outside interests. However, arrangements were being made and nothing was to be done, or was there?

CASUAL FRIDAY CONVERSATIONS

Welcome to Friday's blog exchange, where a new topic for discussion is posted every week. Please begin a discussion by responding to this post, then to other comments, via the comment box. This forum is for thoughtful, respectful and tasteful dialogue only.

http://plus-model-mag.com/2012/01/plus-size-bodies-what-is-wrong-with-them-anyway/


Thanks to fan and follower, Jonina, for posting this on Facebook for us to see.

A CLOUD OF HAWTHORNE

CHAPTER ONE

“So, do you have it?” She asked.

Henley Hornbrook III dug into the deep pockets of his brown wool trousers and pulled out a small, square velvet box. A glimmer of light caught the thin gold band that bordered the lid, as the sun streamed in through the open window. The small gift sparkled. Lace curtains stirred from a soft, spring breeze. He cleared his throat, then gently lifted the lid of the box, and thrust it toward his mother proudly. She smiled.

“Ahh, that will do. Yes, that will do perfectly, just perfectly.” She faced the open window, allowing the air to cool her. It was a warm day, and the linen collar of her dress, tightly buttoned around her neck, was not only itchy but it was making her terribly warm. Unless, she thought, it was another one of those blasted hot flushes. 

Edith Hornbrook turned toward her son briskly and brushed his hand out of the way, nearly toppling the five carat diamond engagement ring from it’s nest of purple satin. 

“Enough,” she said sharply. “We mustn’t fuss over matters such as these. Put the thing away.”

“But Mother...”

“It’s fine, Henley,” his mother cut him off. “She’ll be delighted by it, you’ll marry, and all will be well. Now, go and dress for supper. You don’t want to keep your father waiting now, do you?”

A CLOUD OF HAWTHORNE - TEASER

                                     ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Edith relaxed, looked around to see that no one nearby could see her, and casually wandered toward the shrouded figure. When she got close enough, she ducked behind the tree and came face to face with an exotic, albeit rustic looking woman. 

“Hello, Rosetta,” Edith said with keen interest. “Do you have my tinctures?” 

                                      ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

She hardly glanced into the drawing room as she passed, so did not see her husband fast asleep in the mahogany armchair, whiskey precariously tilted toward the floor in his drooping hand. It was just as well. She had no tolerance for her husband, Henley II’s, idleness.

                                     ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Teach him. Show him all there is to know about sex and women. Equip him with the tricks of the trade, as it were.” She paused to consider her next move. “I will pay you handsomely I assure you.”

Chapter One of A Cloud of Hawthorne will be posted next Tuesday, January 10th, followed by each new chapter every Tuesday until The End.

Stay tuned...

  

TITILLATING TUESDAY

Madison needs a short hiatus, to rest and to write. So, the first chapter of my next book will be posted on Tuesday, January 10, 2012. Here's a little teaser to tide you over. 

A CLOUD OF HAWTHORNE

At Edith Hornbrook’s urging, Henley Hornbrook III presents the wealthy local beauty, Proberta Gerber, with a brilliant five caret yellow diamond ring.

Unremarkably handsome, and seemingly dull, inexperienced Henley sets out to learn the ways of women before his impending marriage. He discovers Rosetta, the exotic gypsy who lives in the forest near the Hornbrook estate, whose lessons in lust soon blossom into a torrid romance. So, when Henley’s cousin, the dashing Wesley Arbuckle, arrives for a visit, he is greeted by Proberta with more than an open heart. 

However, Henley’s growing suspicion of his mother’s meddling in his romantic affairs soon becomes clear, and with the help of Rosetta, and some clever manipulation, the cards held in the hand of destiny are revealed. 

Meanwhile, please do check back for daily blog blurbs, contests, and mini musings to brighten your days. Also, please sign up with your email address so I can add you to my mailing list.

Until then, The Happiest of the Holiday Season to you and yours. 

Warmly, ML XO

TILLATING TUESDAY - SALON ANTICS

CHAPTER 19 - SECOND CHANCES

Frances Del Monte, Vivian Furlish, and Amy Richardson sat in three side by side chairs  at Snippets Salon while Liam and Genevieve applied the appropriate mix of color to each of their heads of hair. Magazines lay open on their laps, but they were too busy talking among themselves to be bothered with catching up on the latest Hollywood gossip. With all the goings on, there was enough scandal of their own to keep them gabbing for a few weeks at the very least. 

Wearing a simple white blouse, thigh-high black leather boots with her signature mini-mini skirt, kohl black eyes and flaming red lips, Genevieve had the appearance of goth vamp meets school girl, which is likely the look she was after. Her newly cut and bleached hair was teased into a beehive up-do. Without a doubt she turned heads, and not because her look was outlandish, but because she was drop dead gorgeous.

TITILLATING TUESDAY

SALON ANTICS


CHAPTER 17 - WHERE SILENCE ENDS

Genevieve, Della, Miguel, and Savannah Porsche sat huddled close together in the waiting room of Cedars Medical Center, waiting for blood work and x-ray results to come back from the lab.  The emergency physician had reassured them that everything would be alright, but there were concerns as to whether the bullet had torn into ligaments in his femur, which would require orthopedic surgery then plastic surgery. They were also concerned the bullet had nipped an artery when passing through his leg. There had been a lot of blood. 

It had already been a long night. They had been awake, on and off, for almost seventy two hours. Miguel snored softly, his head leaning against the seat back of a hospital waiting room chair. Savannah stood and began pacing across the shiny, freshly mopped floor. 

“Boy, could I use a coffee,” she said, glancing around for a beverage machine.

“Me too,” seconded Della drowsily.

“Let’s go find the cafeteria, Savannah. I wouldn’t mind a hit of caffeine either,” Genevieve suggested, ready for a breather.

“I’ll stay and sit with sleeping beauty in case the doc shows up with some news,” Della said, nodding toward Miguel. “Would you grab one for me too?”

Genevieve stood up and the two of them walked toward the elevators. When they got to the cafeteria on the sub-basement level, they each filled a Styrofoam cup with fresh steaming coffee and sat down.

TITILLATING TUESDAY

CHAPTER 16 - WHO CAME KNOCKING

Shock and disbelief swept over the lot of them as the extent of the damage began to sink in. It was two days after the horrible incident at The Lady. An old ghetto blaster had been set up to drown out the din of clean-up while Harry, the bartender, and a crew of bouncers set tables and chairs back in place and swept away shards of broken glass. The atmosphere was gloomy. No one had heard from or seen Dominic Diaz, which spoke volumes, but no one really wanted to see him. They all knew from their simmering anger and frustration that if he were to walk into the club right now he might not make it out alive.

As usual, Liam and Genevieve were sitting with Della at the back corner table when Miguel entered through the backstage door. What lights were still functioning cast a dim glow in the room. Although clean-up had begun, based on the dismal state of things, it was going to be a long, slow process despite the need to get things up and running swiftly. 

“Hey,” Miguel said as he approached the table. “Glad to see someone’s still hanging around. Anything I can do to help out?”

“Have a seat, Miguel,” Liam offered. He scooted over on the cushioned bench of the booth to make room. Miguel obliged. 

“Where’s the rest of them? Where’s Mitch and Fran?” 

“They went home,” Liam replied. “It has all been too much for them, especially Franny.” He looked at Della, then to G, who was slumped in the corner, head bent forward. “They just need a break. I told them we’d take care of things.”

“Oh for sure, man,” Miguel said, jumping in enthusiastically. “I’ll do what ever it takes. No problem.”

Normally Liam would have smiled at that, but he was too distracted trying to make sense of this blatant show of revenge by who was now their enemy. The game had changed. With unspoken thoughts, it was clear to them all that this meant war. Each one bore their own outrage, their own grief, each had a bone to pick with Dominic Diaz. And, if Dom was capable of this, what else might he do? The scope of their plan felt overwhelming now, and they all wondered if they were in over their heads. But they all knew they were in it together, and Dom must be stopped - somehow.

TITILLATING TUESDAY

CHAPTER 15 - ACCIDENTS  

        Miguel stood in the doorway, looking toward the small bed. She looked lovely and serene lying there, naked against the darkness. He still didn’t understand how he’d ended up there. He had gone out that night with entirely different motives in mind, and through a series of accidents had ended up there, with her. 

He continued to stare at those rosy cheeks, her smooth pale shoulders peeking out from under white satin sheets, her slender neck that irresistibly called out for him. If he had his way, he’d climb back in beside her, snuggle up to her warm body and make wild, passionate love all morning, all day. She was perfect - perfect for him. Had he paid more attention earlier to her needs, to who she really was, he may have determined her finer qualities much sooner, but he had been too distracted to notice. At least, he thought, he’d figured it out now, which is all that mattered.

  Miguel did not believe in accidents, nor did he believe the story she told him late last night was false. They all knew by now that Dominic Diaz was a good for nothing swindler and thief who had been ripping off The Foxy Lady for years, unbeknownst to its rightful owners Mitch and Fran Del Monte. What’s more, he had wreaked havoc there the previous night, busting the club up to the tune of thousands of dollars that neither Mitch nor anyone else had. Even though they all knew Dom was the culprit, without proof, they could hardly approach him outright. Miguel wasn’t sure why she had blurted out this new information to him, why she trusted him above all else. Not until now. 

TITILLATING TUESDAY

CHAPTER 14 - TURNING TRIX

When Liam arrived at the salon just before ten the next morning, Genevieve had already opened. The smell of freshly brewed coffee swept out from the back room to greet him. He smiled. He felt happier than he’d felt in a long time, even with all the drama going down at the club. He dropped his appointment book at the front desk and walked to the back of the salon. To his surprise, Fran was sitting in the last chair wrapped in foils and draped in a maroon robe. She looked up as he approached. 

      “Hey Irish, how’s it going?”  

Liam did not hide his surprise. 

      “Aren’t you a bit early, Franny? I thought we all agreed to meet at noon.” 

      Genevieve rounded the corner from the staff room, carrying a mixture of bleach for Fran’s hair. She looked so perky and radiant it took Liam’s breath away. He just stood there like a dummy until he was brought out of his stupor by the women’s laughter.

      “What’s with you, Irish? Fran said jovially. “Cat got your tongue?”

TITILLATING TUESDAY

Chapter 13 - TACTICS

Miguel stepped through the backstage door into the dimly lit club. It was three am but he could hear The Way You Look Tonight sung by Billie Holiday, playing softly in the background while a second rate dancer performed an impromptu pole dance for the few stragglers that remained. It didn’t take much for Miguel to realize this was the time of night for young women vying for a job at The Lady got the opportunity to do their thing. Some made the cut, some didn’t. Judging from what he saw, this girl didn’t have what it took. She was young and beautiful, but had no rhythm, and lacked the moves and finesse that made a good dancer, stripper or otherwise. 

He walked over the bar and ordered a bourbon, neat. As he looked around the near empty room he saw Della, so he grabbed his drink and made his way over to where she was standing. As he approached she looked at him suspiciously, and he realized she was talking to someone in a low whisper. He stopped. Then he saw Liam and Genevieve tucked in the dark corner of the table and he understood Della’s hesitance. He turned to go, but Liam stepped out of the booth and stopped him.

CHAPTER 12 - SHOWTIME

Mitch arrived at the club around eleven, a bit early for him, but by the way he hovered around the bar tossing back shots, Liam figured he must have had some serious business to tend to. Fifteen minutes later Dom arrived. He was dressed to the nines, a maroon silk shirt, unbuttoned to his midriff, where a gold chain hung in among his chest hair. He left his tailored leather jacket hanging open, to show off a gold plated belt buckle the size of Miami. The bottom of his tight black trousers barely fit over his grey and beige snakeskin cowboy boots, which may as well have had spurs on them with the noise they made.

“Gimme a JD, Harry, will ya?” 

“Comin’ right up, boss.”

Harry grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels from the bar shelf and poured a generous amount into a tumbler. He handed it to Dom.

“Bottoms-up.” Dominic raised his glass to Harry and pounded back the whiskey, followed by a vigorous shake of his head. “Gotta keep up with my pal here.” Dominic winked at Mitch, who proceeded to turn away.

“Aw, c’mon now, Mitch. We’re pals, right?” Dominic slapped his hand on Mitch’s back and pulled him in close until he was breathing down his neck. Leaning in, but looking out into the crowd, he whispered, “We’re such good pals that you’re gonna give me a heckava fucking deal for this joint, ain’t that right Mitchy baby?”

Chapter 11 – THE UNRAVELING

Frances Del Monte was sitting on the sofa in the waiting area, holding a mug of coffee, tears streaming down her cheeks, when Genevieve and Miguel unlocked the salon door and walked in. Liam was beside her with his arm wrapped comfortingly around her shoulders, trying to console, but to no avail.

            “Why didn’t he tell me, Irish? That’s what I don’t understand. He usually tells me everything.” Fran began sobbing again.

            “Genevieve, would you mind closing the blinds on the door so people think we’re closed.” He looked back at Fran. “There, there Franny. We’ll sort this out.”

            Genevieve did as she was told, while Miguel walked to the staff room to get a drink of water. Really, he just wanted to get out of the way. He disliked seeing people upset. It made him uncomfortable. Genevieve remained with Liam and Fran.

            Suddenly Fran brightened and straightened up.

            “Irish, I want to go home.” She glanced over at Genevieve. “You can come too, G.”

            Genevieve looked at Liam, who looked bewildered.

            “What purpose would that serve, Fran? It’ll just make Mitch feel ganged up on. We have to come up with a better plan if we’re going to work this out.”

            Fran looked dejected. Her shoulders drooped again and her eyes began to well up with tears. Then Genevieve piped in.

            “I have a solution.”