Beds and Blazes (2 page)

From an oak tree at the edge of the woods, a bluebird flew towards the gazebo. Although its wings beat quickly, the bird’s path switched back and forth so that its progress was slow compared to other birds. “Oh my gosh,” Dora breathed when it landed on the white-painted rail of the gazebo. The plastic tray clattered to the floor next to her, but the bird didn’t budge. “We have an audience, Carmen! I love bluebirds—they’re so sweet and cheerful!”

“Yeah, well, I’m sure it’s just here for the flowers and bugs, Dora. There are lots of birds in the woods.” Carmen narrowed her eyes at the brilliant blue animal. She started to make a shooing gesture, but Dora caught her hand.

“It’s not hurting anything,” she said. “I kind of like having someone to dance for, even if it’s just a bird. It sort of reminds me of that grey cat that used to hang out in the window of the studio in town. Remember him, Carmen?”

Carmen grunted and handed Dora her dropped tray. “Okay, you win,” she agreed. “Today we dance for a feathered audience member. All I can say is, he’d better not poop on the gazebo or I’m going after a broom.”

The bird ruffled its feathers and warbled sweetly as Dora once more followed Carmen’s dance instructions.

Lowell rested his chin on the gazebo rail and took a deep breath. Dora was, simply put, the most stunning woman to ever grace the planet. That long, thick, raven hair, that upturned nose, those lips that managed to be both full and delicate at the same time… And that body! By three hells, he hadn’t known a figure like that was possible. Muscular and firm, yet yielding and soft in the places it mattered most, and with a bosom and hips to make any red-blooded man weak in the knees.

He tipped his head to one side and watched her hips pivot and her full breasts tremble with each step. Carmen, of course, was watching and was far from impressed, but she was powerless to stop him. Dora would be horrified if she chased off a sweet little bluebird. He chuckled and cast his gaze lower, to Dora’s plump thighs, rounded calves and tender, delicate feet. A rampant erection jutted from his crotch, but he was far too used to walking around in the nude to care. Carmen had seen it all before, and it was worth a smidgeon of exposure to be able to behold Dora up close. He whistled appreciatively.

“Awww,” Dora cooed. “He’s tilting his little head and singing along with the music. I think he likes me.” She executed a turn and a deep knee bend, all while keeping the tray on its precarious perch. “See? I do better with an audience, Carmen.”

Carmen’s movements became jerky and her own tray clattered to the floor. “You can keep practising,” she said in a terse voice. “I’m going to get something for us to drink. I think it’s getting a little warm out here.”

Dora continued to dance, stepping forward and backward, dipping her hips down and moving her head from side to side. Smiling, she moved closer to the bluebird. Lowell thought he would die from pleasure overload. Dora undulated before his very eyes, shaking those gorgeous breasts scant inches from his face. How he wanted to drop his glamour, grab her in his arms and carry her off into the woods…
It’s something Brock might have done,
he thought,
but I’m stronger than that.

He craned his neck and caught a whiff of her fragrance—some sweet flower or other—glorious. He watched, entranced, as her nipped waist swayed over those lush hips and her belly undulated with rippling precision. The head of his erect cock bumped against the lattice walls of the gazebo and Lowell groaned with desire. A brief look told him that Carmen was still inside, so he was unobserved… He took his shaft in his hand and slid it through his fist. His flesh grew tighter as he rubbed it.
I’m going to have to touch her,
he decided.
There’s just no way around it.

The side door to the manor shut with a bang and the sound of approaching footsteps emanated from the breezeway, but Lowell was too far gone to notice. Dora danced for him seductively, as though she knew that he was hiding behind the face of an innocent little bluebird. He imagined sliding his erection between the crevice of Dora’s sweat-sheened breasts, pushing them together with his palms so that her warm flesh enveloped his cock completely.

“Can I interest you in some ice water?” he heard Carmen ask brightly. Dora turned just as Carmen lunged forward with her tray in a theatrically clumsy stumble. She let the plastic tray fall, but caught the pitcher. Lowell didn’t have time to duck when he saw the torrent of ice cubes and water flying through the air at him. The frigid mixture splashed over his head and ran over his bare back, chest and aching shaft.

“Shit, that’s cold!” he sputtered, stepping away from the gazebo to brush the freezing water from his skin.

“Ummm… Did that bird just…talk?” Dora whispered. She raised her hand to her throat and took one step away from the feathered blue terror.

Sputtering, Lowell locked eyes with a heartily amused Carmen before running back into the safety of Prescott Woods.

Chapter Two

Later that evening, Carmen was reading
Belly Dancing Quarterly
magazine and kicking back with a cup of homemade cocoa, enhanced with a generous pour of heavy cream, and a slice of pistachio-crusted cheesecake. She had determined to her delight that the Healing Waters and the Living Earth not only provided health and longevity, but also an enviable eat-anything-and-keep-your-figure diet plan.

Thank heaven for magical subterranean spas,
she thought happily.

Outside her front door was the immaculate and mundane back lawn of Prescott Manor, and out the back were the shadowy enchanted trees of Prescott Woods. Carmen’s cottage, built with labour from elves, gnomes and trolls, had one foot in each world, just like her.

“Does she be needin’ anything more?” a raspy female voice asked.

“No, I’m all set, Limax. The house looks terrific. Thank you so much for cleaning it again. The flowers on the table are gorgeous, too.”

The gnome bobbed her head and tittered. “Oh, she knows how I like to be useful and such, so it’s my pleasure, it is.” Limax beamed, exposing a mouth full of crooked and discoloured teeth, and Carmen saw that she was tearing up again. Like her namesake, the slug, Limax was prone to gooey secretions, especially when she became emotional. Carmen had taught her to carry a fresh handkerchief to wipe her streaming eyes and runny nose. Considering that she had a housekeeper who wanted to be paid in praise alone, putting up with a little mucus was no big deal.

Sniffling, Limax shuffled out and left her to her dessert. Moments later, Carmen heard a knock on the back door. “Come in,” she sang out. “Babe, you have got to try this cheesecake that Dora brought me—it’s to die for.” Carmen looked up, but instead of seeing Brock, her boyfriend, she saw none other than his stocky, scowling brother.

As one of the Fair Folk herself, Carmen hadn’t been fooled by Lowell’s bluebird guise for a minute, but she could see now that he had dropped it entirely. The phantasmic bird outline had vanished, and only a six-and-a-half foot tower of irritable male remained. She was, however, relieved to see that he had put on real clothes. Dealing with a pissed-off Lowell was bad enough, but a pissed-off, naked Lowell was more than she could handle.

As had become his custom, Lowell wore a kilt. Ever since he’d learned that a Scottish/Italian designer had come up with an Italian national tartan, he’d taken to a kilt like a wood duck to the Castle Speranza pond. Even though Carmen preferred lanky, lean men, she had to admit that Lowell looked awfully good in the blue and black tartan and snug rugby shirt. He had the bulky, muscular body of a lumberjack and, at present, the dangerous expression of a hungry grizzly bear.

“Hi, Lowell,” Carmen said. She gave him an uneasy grin. “Want some cheesecake?”

“I do not.” He crossed his beefy arms over his chest. “I don’t appreciate you dousing me with ice water, Carmen. That was extremely unpleasant.” He stared at her and the muscles in his jaw clenched.

“Yeah, well,” Carmen replied, “I don’t appreciate you showing up naked and, like, rubbing yourself while Dora and I were dancing.” She shuddered. “Lowell, that’s just
gross
. You’re practically my brother.”

He shifted from foot to foot and Carmen thought she detected rising colour in his cheeks.
Good,
she thought with annoyance.
He should be embarrassed.

“I, ah, regret that I partook in, uh, licentious behaviour in front of you,” Lowell stammered. “It was not gentlemanly of me. However—”

“Have you been putting the moves on my girl?” Lowell turned as Brock entered the kitchen. “Back off, Lowell. This one’s all mine.” Brock bent to kiss Carmen on the lips and took the seat next to her at the table.

“Here, honey, have some.” Carmen lifted a fork with a bite of cheesecake to Brock’s lips. He closed his eyes as he chewed and swallowed, then bobbed his head in appreciation. “Damn, that’s good! Did Dora make that?” Brock looked up at Lowell, still standing and stewing before them. “Have you had a piece of this? If not, you’re missing out, man.”

Lowell grunted irritably and eyed the cheesecake. “Dora made it?” he asked in a quiet voice. “It’s good?”

Carmen chuckled and stood to get a plate, fork and napkin for him. Minutes later, Lowell had silently devoured his slice of cheesecake and sat before Brock and Carmen with a noticeably less sour expression. “She’s a good cook too,” he whispered. “Amazing.”

“Lowell, you are ridiculous. You can’t act like it’s horrible for Fair Folk to date humans when you clearly are lusting after one yourself. Do you even remember how you freaked out when Brock brought me to Castle Speranza? You were a nutcase.”

“That was a long time ago, Carmen,” Lowell protested, “and things have changed between the Fair Folk and humans in town.”

“Is that so? Are you sure that Father would agree with you, Lowell?” interjected Brock.

“He ought to,” Lowell muttered. “But that doesn’t mean I want to talk about it to him just yet.”

Carmen lifted Brock’s hand and kissed his knuckles before continuing. “My point is—why don’t you ask her out on a date like a normal person, Lowell? Obviously, you’re not a normal person.” Brock guffawed and Carmen studiously ignored him. “She doesn’t have to know that, though, Lowell. You don’t have to lurk around and stalk the poor woman, and you certainly don’t have to pretend to be one of Snow White’s woodland pals to get close to her.”

“The bluebird glamour again?” Brock muttered.

“Yeah,” Lowell admitted. “Chicks dig it.” Brock gave a knowing nod.

Carmen sighed in exasperation. “Look, Dora’s a nice, grown-up lady and, at over two hundred years old, you’re hardly a child, Lowell. Just go talk to her. Sheesh. You Rossi boys are ridiculous.”

Lowell stared at his beefy hands in his lap and shook his head. “She’s just so beautiful, though. So sweet and smart and talented, and her body is”—he sighed—“unforgettable.”

Carmen caught Brock’s glance and shared a smile.

“I’ve been with the dryads and, on occasion, a Charade woman, but this is different. Dora’s special. I don’t know why she’d ever give me a second glance,” Lowell concluded sadly. Outside, night had fallen in the woods. Dry branches crunched and snapped beneath Carmen’s kitchen window.

“Just be yourself and it’ll all work out,” Carmen advised as she served him another piece of cheesecake. “Trust me.”

* * * *

Dora put the finishing touches on a late spring arrangement for her entry table. Pink, magenta and chartreuse zinnias, blushing wild roses, white snapdragons and trailing variegated ivy filled her large entry vessel.
Homegrown,
she thought,
and fit for a queen.

She moved through the six-thousand-five-hundred-square-foot Victorian house, locking up and turning off lights, and thought,
That pretty much describes my B&B.

Dora felt a familiar rush of pride and happiness as she surveyed her home.
Bohemian Rhapsody is rated the number four bed and breakfast in Kentucky
. She smiled.
And for good reason. It’s clean and comfortable, and guests love my sweet potato breakfast casserole, the floral themed rooms and the sun-dried linens.
Dora peeked into the Daffodil Suite and frowned when she saw that the wallpaper next to the light switch was peeling a bit.
Got to fix that tomorrow.
The Dogwood Suite was perfect, as were the Iris and Morning Glory Suites, thanks to unending vigilance on Dora’s part. She needed an assistant, but that was completely out of the question, and Dora was proud and happy to toil away.

Bohemian Rhapsody was a living thing to her, a loyal friend and a dependent child, brought to life by her own determination and hard work. Each blemish in the ageing house might as well have been on Dora’s own body, it troubled her so deeply. “Tomorrow, the gardens in the morning and the Dogwood wallpaper in the afternoon. Maybe I’ll have time to polish the silver service.”

Dora poured a glass of cabernet, blew out the rosemary-scented candle on the counter and prepared to retire to her bedroom, the Queen Anne’s Lace master suite. Just as she reached to turn off the light, she noticed a mockingbird perched on the windowsill of her kitchen. It peered at her with alert black eyes and hopped on its clawed feet.

“What is it with the birds around here, anyway?” Dora chuckled.

Chapter Three

She rose at seven the next morning. The Mathesons weren’t expected until eleven and the Parkers planned to check in at two, so there was plenty of time to get a little gardening in after she hung the sheets to dry.

Dora dressed in loose overalls and a T-shirt, stuffed her thick hair up into a wide-brimmed hat and donned her clogs and gloves. A riot of birdsong greeted her when she stepped outside and the bright May morning coaxed a smile to her face. The climbing roses, draped like a gem-studded stole down the side of the house, were almost garish in their ruby profusion. She knelt before the peonies, whose buds were about to burst with bright fuchsia petals, and started weeding. “I should really have divided these in the fall,” she muttered, “but I reckon they’ll make it one more summer.”