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Authors: Heather C. Myers
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flattery, but also an easy trade to recognize if you’ve got your wits about you.”
“So if my trade be flattery, then what is yours?” he asked her. His tone was neutral, but there was a challenge that tainted his seemingly innocent question.
Brooke cocked her head to the side, realizing that now she had some sort of advantage, however slight it might be, and her lips curled into a smirk that mirrored Charlie’s previous one.
“My trade is the art of secrecy,” she said in a soft voice, her eyes sparkling with mischievousness.
“Is it now?” Charlie asked, his tone suggestive as well as interested. He took a step closer to her, daring to be less than an arm’s length from her. Again, she gulped, craning her neck so that she could look up at him. “And what sort of secrets does a merchant’s daughter hold?”
Brooke just looked up at him, breathing hard yet silent, and opened her mouth to speak, hoping that when she answered, her voice would not shake. “If I told you, they would not be secrets anymore,” she said, a taunting edge in her voice. Her eyes only added to the unspoken challenge.
“You can trust me, though,” Charlie said, leaning down and turning his head so that she could merely whisper in his ear before the wind took whatever she said and her secrets were exposed.
“If I did that,” she said, almost husky, into his ear, a tad uncomfortable at the closeness between the two, “then I wouldn’t be a master of my craft, now would I?”
Charlie pulled away, another one of his smirks upon his face. “I s’ppose you’re right,” he said. It was his cue to leave now, and he turned from her so that he was heading for the window. He lifted his left arm, and wiggled his long fingers in a manner of waving, and turned his head so that his sharp profile was visible and his chocolate eyes were seeking her out. “Ta for now, darling,” he told her, and before Brooke could respond, he was gone.
Brooke exhaled slowly, a breath she did not realize she was keeping within herself. He had visited her once again. She let out a surprised and yet happy smile slip onto her face as she just stared out the open window, wondering if he was coming back to see her once more. She would not admit it aloud, but she did want him to see her before he left to sail the sea. She sighed as she walked over to her desk and pulled the bottom right drawer open to reveal the worn, old trench coat. She put it on, inhaling the intoxicating scent, a content smile resting on her lips. With that, she slipped between her bed sheets, her eyelids heavy and eager to meet their opposite. Soon, Brooke was asleep, and the only thing moving in her still room was the flicker of the dying candle.
Chapter IV
The next morning, Liz woke her sleeping mistress up earlier than what was normal. Today, Brooke would be going to Governor Radcliffe’s mansion for the day because she and Fiona received their academic lessons together. The two young women in question were not too happy with the prospect of waking up early, but lessons were important, and they were glad to get the opportunity to receive an education together.
Master Cunningham escorted his daughter to the Governor’s mansion, which was slightly out of the norm. Usually when she had her lessons with Fiona, she went unaccompanied because her father usually had more important things to do. However, today was apparently different, and when Brooke and her father entered the mansion, she suddenly wanted to know why. Not only were the Governor and his daughter waiting in the drawing room for the Cunningham’s, but Joel Donahue was waiting as well.
Joel Donahue was two years older than Brooke and Fiona, putting him at two and twenty, and the three were close friends. Brooke even considered him to be an older brother of sorts. Fiona, on the other hand, did not consider him to be an older brother at all. She would
“So if my trade be flattery, then what is yours?” he asked her. His tone was neutral, but there was a challenge that tainted his seemingly innocent question.
Brooke cocked her head to the side, realizing that now she had some sort of advantage, however slight it might be, and her lips curled into a smirk that mirrored Charlie’s previous one.
“My trade is the art of secrecy,” she said in a soft voice, her eyes sparkling with mischievousness.
“Is it now?” Charlie asked, his tone suggestive as well as interested. He took a step closer to her, daring to be less than an arm’s length from her. Again, she gulped, craning her neck so that she could look up at him. “And what sort of secrets does a merchant’s daughter hold?”
Brooke just looked up at him, breathing hard yet silent, and opened her mouth to speak, hoping that when she answered, her voice would not shake. “If I told you, they would not be secrets anymore,” she said, a taunting edge in her voice. Her eyes only added to the unspoken challenge.
“You can trust me, though,” Charlie said, leaning down and turning his head so that she could merely whisper in his ear before the wind took whatever she said and her secrets were exposed.
“If I did that,” she said, almost husky, into his ear, a tad uncomfortable at the closeness between the two, “then I wouldn’t be a master of my craft, now would I?”
Charlie pulled away, another one of his smirks upon his face. “I s’ppose you’re right,” he said. It was his cue to leave now, and he turned from her so that he was heading for the window. He lifted his left arm, and wiggled his long fingers in a manner of waving, and turned his head so that his sharp profile was visible and his chocolate eyes were seeking her out. “Ta for now, darling,” he told her, and before Brooke could respond, he was gone.
Brooke exhaled slowly, a breath she did not realize she was keeping within herself. He had visited her once again. She let out a surprised and yet happy smile slip onto her face as she just stared out the open window, wondering if he was coming back to see her once more. She would not admit it aloud, but she did want him to see her before he left to sail the sea. She sighed as she walked over to her desk and pulled the bottom right drawer open to reveal the worn, old trench coat. She put it on, inhaling the intoxicating scent, a content smile resting on her lips. With that, she slipped between her bed sheets, her eyelids heavy and eager to meet their opposite. Soon, Brooke was asleep, and the only thing moving in her still room was the flicker of the dying candle.
Chapter IV
The next morning, Liz woke her sleeping mistress up earlier than what was normal. Today, Brooke would be going to Governor Radcliffe’s mansion for the day because she and Fiona received their academic lessons together. The two young women in question were not too happy with the prospect of waking up early, but lessons were important, and they were glad to get the opportunity to receive an education together.
Master Cunningham escorted his daughter to the Governor’s mansion, which was slightly out of the norm. Usually when she had her lessons with Fiona, she went unaccompanied because her father usually had more important things to do. However, today was apparently different, and when Brooke and her father entered the mansion, she suddenly wanted to know why. Not only were the Governor and his daughter waiting in the drawing room for the Cunningham’s, but Joel Donahue was waiting as well.
Joel Donahue was two years older than Brooke and Fiona, putting him at two and twenty, and the three were close friends. Brooke even considered him to be an older brother of sorts. Fiona, on the other hand, did not consider him to be an older brother at all. She would
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