Delaney and the Autumn Masque
Series: Victorian Holiday Hearts #4
Authors: Bonnie Dee & Summer Devon
Publication date: October 3, 2016
Length: 75 pages
Victorian Holiday Hearts
Four seasons, four novellas about one theatrical family.
They were the source of entertainment in a world without
movies or television. Magic, singing and dancing, acting—the adopted and
biological sons the Andrews family could do it all. And in the warmth of their
eccentric and large family circle, they could be anyone they wanted or love
whomever they wished. In a world where men loving men was a crime, the Andrews
and their friends had their own support for true love.
The stories
Simon and the Christmas Spirit https://amzn.com/B017QUW2ES
Will and the Valentine Saint https://amzn.com/B01A5OAAOQ
Mike and the Spring Awakening https://amzn.com/B01C6BULU4
And thanks to Meredith for letting us introduce the cover of
our last Victorian Holiday Hearts story:
Delaney and the Autumn Masque https://amzn.com/B01KY0UXEI
Excerpt
Bartholomew picked up the greasy deck of cards. They were
sticky but he managed to do a few tricks that didn’t involve special decks. He
put them down and decided to use a coin. That was easier to use when doing the
basic tricks of vanishing and conjuring objects. He quickly went through his
small repertoire, feeling silly, as if he were a child showing off school room
drawings to a member of the Royal Academy of Art.
“You’re fast enough and you do fairly good distraction,”
Andrews said. “But to take diamonds from a lady’s ear? That takes even more--”
He interrupted. “I don’t think I need to do that, I mean not
right away. Oh, I say, how would it be if you removed my cufflinks for
instance?” He hoped it sounded as if he’d only just come up with the idea. But
Delaney gave him a sharp suspicious frown and held his gaze. “Come now, sir,
tell me why you’d want me to do that?” He pushed forward and brushed his hand
over Bartholomew’s coat sleeve.
A gentle touch. Oh Lord, Bartholomew’s heart sped fast and
he had trouble drawing breath.
Did he recognize him at last? Was this the moment Delaney
leaned close and put his mouth on his and drew him into a real embrace?
But then Delaney held up a closed fist. When he opened it,
Bartholomew’s plain silver cufflinks taken from his shirtsleeves lay on his
palm.
He couldn’t help it, Bartholomew applauded.
“And my jacket is tightly fitted,” he said.
“I noticed,” Andrews said. He wore that cocky grin that made
Bartholomew’s heart beat almost as fast as his touch.
Not a swooning young lady, he reminded himself. He held out
his hands for the cufflinks.
“Allow me,” Andrews said and gave his wrist a tug.
It wasn’t Bartholomew’s imagination. Those deft fingers ran
along his wrist, the sensitive skin over his pulse. If Andrews didn’t want
anyone to feel his touch, he wouldn’t. So that had to mean Andrews deliberately
allowed the backs of his fingers to rest on Bartholomew’s skin, to delicately
brush him and raise the small hairs of his lower arm and. . .
“Did we come to terms?” Andrews said. He moved away and
Bartholomew was surprised to see his cufflinks back in place.
“Eh? What?” He cleared his throat. “What?” Oh very adroit
speech, Bartholomew. Very smooth indeed.
“Do you agree to pay me a full three quid to learn three
tricks?”
“Which tricks do you have in mind?”
Andrews stared off into the hanging lamp for a long minute
as if debating what to answer then he shrugged. “I can teach you to remove a
lady’s earrings, to remove gentleman’s cufflinks and to pick a man’s pocket.”
“Yes.” He had the money from Clara. And not only would it be
worth learning the skills to thwart Russell, it meant that he could indulge in
his new favorite hobby, standing near Delaney Andrews and enjoying the sight of
the man, the scent of him, the way his smile lit his bright green-brown eyes. .
Not. Swooning.
“You already know the first thing you must do is distract
your audience’s attention.” He inched even closer so the heat of his body
seemed to touch Bartholomew with a phantom embrace.
Bartholomew grew dizzy—and realized he’d forgotten to
breathe for too long. He sucked in a lungful of air and drew in more of
Andrews. He might be smaller than Bartholomew but his presence enveloped and
overwhelmed the room and everything in it, most especially Bartholomew. The
sight, the scent, the presence of the man held more power than Bartholomew had
felt before. It was a magic he didn’t know.
He backed away, put up his hands and closed his eyes. He
must think.
“Are you ill?” Andrews sounded mocking. “Are you not fond of
small places? Of being too close to another man?”
Bartholomew might be slightly dazzled in his presence but he
understood. Andrews had recognized him. Likely the man had known him from the
first. Why had he been pretending
otherwise? Bartholomew opened his eyes. “You know who I am.”
“You are Bartholomew Bancroft. You introduced yourself
already.”
“No. You know who I am.” He stepped forward and saw a flash
of something--a challenge perhaps—in those eyes. It gave Bartholomew
confidence. “You couldn’t have forgotten of course, since it was only last
night.”
Andrews licked his lips. His steady gaze fell for a moment.
He seemed afraid or unsure—and perhaps that was why he had hidden.
Bartholomew’s pique vanished at once.
“I wouldn’t tell anyone,” Bartholomew said softly and when
he took another step, his body came up against Andrews’s. “I am not such a cad
to do such a thing.”
“No kissing and telling for Death?”
There, out in the open at last. “Never. I will be silent as
the grave.”
Andrews groaned. “That was a terrible joke.” But he smiled
and raised his hands and touched Bartholomew’s cheek and his jaw. “Did you know
you are quite beautiful?”
That was the very last thing he expected to hear. “Uh. No.
Thank you,” he managed. “You too.”
Andrews laughed and pulled his face down to his. His kiss
instantaneously lit Bartholomew. He reached out and grabbed Andrews and hauled
him up against him--waiting another second would be too long.
And the way his magician wrapped himself around him made it
clear Bartholomew wasn’t the only one who had been thinking of their embraces.
About the Authors
Summer Devon
Award-winning author.
Summer Devon is the pen name historical romance writer Kate
Rothwell often uses. Whether the characters are male or female, human or
dragon, Summer’s books are always romance.
You can visit her facebook page ON FACEBOOK
Or her page: http://summerdevon.com
Sign up for her newsletter either spot
Bonnie Dee
NY Times and USA Today
Bestselling Author
I enjoy reading stories about people damaged by life who
find healing with a like-minded soul. When I couldn't find enough books to suit
my taste, I began to write them.
My online presence:Website,ON FACEBOOK
or Twitter @Bonnie_Dee. Sign up for my newsletter on the main page of my web
site.
Oooh!!!! I enjoyed the previous three stories!! Looking forward for this one :)
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