Taken by Angeline Fortin (great books of all time TXT) 📗

expectantly.  Even her maid looked hopeful.  No doubt, they were lacking for entertainment without the constant hum of TV and social media around. Scarlett found it all rather peaceful but couldn’t find it in herself to deny these two sweet girls.

“All right,” Scarlett relented, wondering where to begin.  “Well, once upon a time, there was a girl from Kansas named Dorothy Gale…”

“Then the wicked, green-faced witch leaned close to Dorothy, pointing a spindly finger at her and said, ‘I’ll get you, my pretty’,” Scarlett cackled in her best imitation of Margaret Hamilton.  “‘And your little dog, too!’”

“Oh, my!”

“That’s just what Dorothy said,” Scarlett nodded, repeating the words in a perfect, softly breathless imitation of Judy Garland.  “Then the Wicked Witch of the West circled around, waving her broomstick at all the cowering Munchkins with an evil laugh before disappearing in a cloud of red smoke.”  Scarlett cackled dramatically again for effect while the maid crossed herself.  She was beginning to enjoy herself.

“What happened then?” Aileen asked excitedly.

“Glinda, the Good Witch of the North told Dorothy that if she wanted to go back to Kansas she must go to the Emerald City to seek the help of the awesome and powerful Wizard of Oz.  Only he would be able to help her,” she continued.  “Not knowing the way, Dorothy asked how she was to get there.”

“How?” Aleizia asked as if she just couldn’t help herself.

“‘Just follow the yellow brick road’, Glinda said, before she transformed into a lovely pink bubble and floated away as the Munchkins waved goodbye.  ‘Follow the yellow brick road?’ Dorothy repeated as she noticed the spiraling path that began in the middle of Munchkinland.  Dorothy put the toe of her ruby slipper on the first stone.”  Scarlett lifted the hem on her skirt and placed her foot tentatively on the imaginary road before her.  “‘Follow the yellow brick road,’ she said.  ‘Follow the yellow brick road.  Follow the yellow brick road, follow the yellow brick road.’”  Her voice grew more confident as she repeated the phrase over and over and paced the imaginary road.  Then she began to sing.  “‘Follow, follow, follow, follow, follow the yellow brick road.  Follow the yellow brick, follow the yellow brick, follow the yellow brick road.  Da-da, da-da, da!  We’re off to see the wizard.  The wonderful wizard of Oz!’”

Aleizia and Aileen clapped their hands with delight as Scarlett began to skip across the room as she sang with a breathless laugh.  “‘We hear he is a wiz of a wiz, if ever a wiz there was.  If ever, ever a…’”

Circling at the end of the room, Scarlett turned and spied Laird lingering at the door.  His arms were folded over his broad chest as he shouldered the door frame lazily.  He looked huge in the narrow opening, overwhelming.

Heart pounding, Scarlett stumbled to a halt, dropping her skirt.

God, he was gorgeous!  Would the sight of him never stop stealing her breath?

His light eyes raked down the length of her before lifting, holding hers.  She’d never seen a man with eyes like Laird’s.  So pale in contrast to his dark hair, beard and brows, as if they were lit from within.  Lit with interest.  With desire?

For all his dismissive words earlier, those eyes told another tale entirely.

Her sudden halt had every pair of eyes in the room also turning to the door and James became aware that it wasn’t just Aileen, Aleizia and her maid but several of the castle maids and pages crowded into the room as well.  He’d been so focused on Scarlett’s lively performance, and the sight of her slender calves, that he hadn’t even noticed.  Now, each and every one of them sported a scowl for James’s interruption of what he knew to be the liveliest entertainment Crichton had seen for some while.

The afternoon had been an interminable one, wondering what could be occupying the ladies for hours on end.  In the lists despite the rain, James had taken a blade to his arm as reward for his inattention.  Unable to put off his curiosity any longer, he returned to the castle and to his sister’s room determined to simply ascertain that his prisoner was still just that when he had heard her talking.  Peeking around the door, he found Scarlett shod in a pair of red slippers, holding her skirts up to her knees.  He was entranced by her performance, by her nimble steps and the sight of her trim ankles and shapely calves.  The lines of strain around her mouth and the shadows in her eyes that haunted her expression since he found her at Dunskirk had faded.  She was entrancing.

Her farcical story was entertaining as well.  Some peculiar tale of witches good and bad – Good witches!  As if there was such a thing – but her face lit with animation as she imparted the voice of Dorothy in a soft, tentative manner quite unlike the one she had used with him over the past days. Then she had sung.  Her spirited voice high and clear.

“My apologies for the interruption,” he felt compelled to say.  Sorry for himself as well. Sorry that he was the reason she stopped.  “Please carry on.”

“I… I…”  Scarlett held true to her name and flushed a bright, yet becoming bright red.  “I didn’t know you were watching.”

“Does it matter when ye’ve an attentive audience already?” he asked curiously.  “What is one more pair of eyes upon ye?”

To his surprise, she blushed even more, looking away.  “Maybe later.”

How intriguing.

“Oh!  You mustn’t stop now,” his sister protested.  “I want to know what happened to Dorothy.”

Remarkably, so did James. But he also undeniably wanted so much more.

“I can tell you the rest later,” Scarlett assured her, kicking off the ruby-encrusted slippers.  “It’s getting late anyway, isn’t it?”

“Aye, the dinner bell has just rung,” James told them, sweeping his glance over his sister and sister-in-law as well.  “Perhaps ye might be persuaded to share the tale wi’ us after supper?” James