Finding Emmaline. A Blackwood Series Novel. Book 1

Finding Emmaline

A Blackwood Series Novel

Book 1

Excerpt

As I walked into the store, the twinkle of the small bell over the door announced my entry.

And there was my assistant, Lydia, smile in place at the front counter, going over the weekend inventory sheets. “Mornin boss!” she called out way too cheerfully, making a point of turning her wrist to look at her watch. “Well,…almost,” she smiled, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Happy birthday!”

Lydia was a morning person. I, on the other hand, was not. But she was too good a friend to hold that little annoyance against her, so I headed straight to the coffee and pastry station we provide for our customers. I was already exhausted from last night’s little adventure, and Mondays were always hectic. I needed more caffeine. “Thanks,” I grumbled, refilling my coffee mug.

Lydia straightened from the counter. “Oh, come on,” she chided, “thirty’s not so bad.”

Adding a sugar packet to my coffee, I turned around. “It’s not that,” I grumbled. “I just had a bad night.” Ducking under the countertop, I pulled the inventory sheets towards me. “So, whadda we got for today?” I asked, covering a jaw cracking yawn with my hand.

When I got no answer, I looked over at Lydia, staring at me like a loon. Her grin had turned into a full-blown smile. “What?” I groused.  

Her artfully sculpted brows raised even higher. “What?” she replied innocently.

“You are even more annoyingly happy than usual this morning,” I complained. “What gives?”

“Oh nothing. Just…I think your day is about to get a whole lot better.”

“Not likely,” I mumbled moodily, scanning the numbers in front of me.

 Lydia reached over and took the sheets from in front of me, straightened them, then placed them to the side of the counter. “I have a surprise for you,” she said, grabbing my hand. “Follow me.”

I was tired. I was grumpy. And I was definitely not in the mood for surprises this early in the morning. But I knew Lydia. She wasn’t gonna be happy until she showed me whatever it was she wanted to show me. Better to just get it over with. As she dragged me behind her, I threw a longing look over my shoulder at the mug sitting on the counter. “Can I take my coffee with me at least?” I pleaded.

“No,” she fired back, leading me to the large room in the back of the store we used for new and used inventory, as well as my office.

Opening the door, Lydia stood aside but said nothing. “We’re in the storeroom,” I observed drolly. “Why are we in the storeroom?”

Lydia tossed me a smug smile, then walked over to the wall that faced the door. “Because… I wanted to show you this,” she announced, grandly gesturing to the far corner as she crossed the room, where something very large, and very tall, leaned against the wall, covered in a sheet.

I frowned. That hadn’t been there yesterday. My curiosity piqued, I walked over to stand beside her. Whatever was under the sheet was huge. At least eight feet tall, maybe more. I turned back to Lydia. “What’s this?”

“It arrived this morning,” Lydia replied, practically vibrating with excitement.

I waited for her to elaborate, but she just stood there, a loopy smile on her face. “O-kay, sooo...?” Lydia could be a little dramatic sometimes.

“From Scotland,” she beamed.

I turned once again to the sheet covered object leaning against the wall. “Really?” I said, highly curious now.

“Yep,” Lydia said proudly, anticipating my enthusiasm at her find.

Lydia knew that history was my passion. Especially Scottish history. I’d always been fascinated with the country. So much so that I tried to stock my store with as many authentic Scottish antiques that I could find. They were always great sellers, especially to collectors.

“You ready?” Lydia asked, as she took hold of the bottom of the sheet.

 “Um…yeah!” I smiled, barely able to contain my own eagerness. I couldn’t wait to see what was under the cloth.

“Ok then. Get ready to have your socks knocked off, boss.” And with that, Lydia grandly pulled the sheet off.

With a gasp, I stood there, frozen. I literally couldn’t move. “Oh… my… God.” I whispered.

“Like I said, a whole lot better,” Lydia said, grinning from ear to ear. “Happy Birthday babe.” 

It was a painting. A very large painting. Seventeen or eighteen hundred’s maybe, if I were to hazard a guess, the furnishings in what appeared to be a sitting room, or maybe a small living room, were rich colors of vibrant golds and burgundies that complimented the space, giving it a warm, welcoming look.

But it was the man in the painting that instantly drew my attention. He was quite literally the most strikingly handsome piece of rugged masculinity I’d ever seen in my life.

He had to be well over six foot tall as he stood proudly, one hand on his hip, the other resting on a large, deadly looking sword. He was dressed in a snowy white shirt and a heavy kilt, with shiny black knee boots just visible underneath. On the black, shiny belt at his waist was a sporran, and I glimpsed the polished handle of what looked like a dirk at the opening of the small garment. His muscular frame was obvious, even under his clothing. His arms were thick with muscle, his strong thighs and heavily muscled legs straining the fabric of the kilt.  “You like it?” Lydia asked anxiously.

Mesmerized, I couldn’t look away. “Like it?!” I exclaimed. “It’s great! Where did you find it?”

Beaming, Lydia looked up at the painting. “I was doing some shopping this weekend, and I found this amazing online auction. Everything there is authentic Scottish memorabilia.”

I shook my head. “That’s incredible,” I uttered, completely awestruck by the splendor of the piece.

“Yeah,” Lydia replied, “as soon as I saw it, I just had to get it. It was a little pricey, which tells me it could very well be an original. But I thought it would be perfect for the showroom, so I had it shipped overnight express.”

I couldn’t stop staring at the man in the painting. He was magnificent. His hair was the darkest of brown, almost black. Cut closely at the sides, a little longer on top, the color was just a touch lighter than his elegant, masculine eyebrows. Clean shaven, his cheeks were lean, his jaw firm, and he had the most beautifully masculine smile.

But his eyes. Oh my Lord, his eyes. A piercing green, they were so beautiful they looked like dark green emeralds. In striking contrast to his deeply tanned face, he looked like a ruggedly elegant pirate. If there was such a thing.

“Em?” I heard behind me, but I couldn’t look away from those eyes. “Boss?”

 Startled, I looked over at Lydia. “Oh. Sorry,” I said sheepishly. I’d been caught gaping, and that wasn't like me at all.

Lydia gave a small laugh, looking back at the painting. “He is pretty yowza, isn’t he?”

I turned and squinted my eyes at my quirky assistant. “Yowza?”

“It’s a word!” Lydia defended, and I raised a brow. “Seriously?”  

Pursing her lips, Lydia gazed at his handsome face. “Ok then. How about,…gorgeous,… sexy….yummy…” She breathed a swooning sigh. “Dayum?” I had to smile. I could be in the worst mood, and this woman always made me smile. “Yowza was just the first thing that came to mind,” Lydia said.

I rolled my eyes, then looked back at the man in the painting. He really was impressive. “Yowza works,” I uttered.

Lydia sighed behind me. “That… is one seriously hot man.” She tilted her head, studying the portrait. “I wonder who he is.”

A thought suddenly came to mind. “Help me turn it around, will ya?” Approaching the enormous frame, Lydia took one side, and I took the other as we attempted to move it.

Not an easy task, considering how large and heavy it was, but we finally managed to turn it to the side. With Lydia holding it up so it didn’t fall over, I stepped around the back of it, trying to find any clue as to who this man might be.

At first I saw nothing. But as I was preparing to step away, I spotted something in the bottom right corner. Crouching to my knees, I leaned down, moving closer until I could make out the words written in delicate brush strokes. They were old, faded with age, and difficult to read.

I moved closer until I could make them out. “To my Beloved William. With all my love. Emmaline.”

I took a moment to study the lacy script. Emmaline. What a beautiful name. Reaching out, I smoothed my hand over the scrolled letters, and as soon as my fingers touched the canvas a sudden jolt ran through my body. I fell back, my butt hittin the floor with a thud as my hands went behind me to catch my weight. Stunned, I sat there sprawled, shaking my head to clear it. What the hell?

Still holding the sides of the painting, Lydia peeked around the corner. “You ok, boss?”

Scrambling to my feet, I dusted off my palms. “Yeah. I’m uh…I’m ok. I just lost my balance.” Rounding the corner to stand in front of the painting, I studied it more closely. And as I looked up into his striking green eyes, suddenly, an overwhelming feeling of awareness overtook me. It was so vivid I could actually feel it, touching the edges of my memory, but just out of reach. My heart started racing, and my skin felt flushed. I’d never felt anything like this before in my life. This painting was probably hundreds of years old, and before today, I’d never set eyes on it, but I couldn’t shake the sensation that I had seen this man before,…somewhere. Although I knew that couldn’t be true. Still,...I was intrigued. “Don’t put this on display just yet.” I said suddenly.

Lydia raised an elegant brow raised in question, “No?”

My gaze drifted over the painting, from the bottom of his sturdy black boots, to the top of his silky dark hair. “No. Let’s just keep it back here for a bit.”

 “Wanna keep Mr. Hottie to yourself for a while, huh?” she teased.

I turned and gave her a look, eyes narrowed. Palms raised, Lydia dipped her head with a smile. “Hey, you do you, sweetie. I don’t judge.”

The bell over the front door jingled just then. “Customer,” I announced, and turning back to the painting, we gently eased it back against the wall before Lydia headed to the door.

“I’ll be up front if you need me,” she said over her shoulder. At the door, she stopped and turned with her hand on the doorframe. ”Oh and, Em?”

Still distracted, I simply hummed a reply. “Hmmm?”

“Don’t stare at that thing too long,” Lydia remarked. “Seriously. You’ll go cross-eyed.” And with a smile, she left the room.

“Smartass,” I mumbled under my breath.

“I heard that!” she yelled.

“I meant you to!” I yelled back. As I listened to her laughter fading down the hallway, I stood for a moment longer, my eyes fixed on the man staring back at me. “William,” I whispered. “Hmmmm.”

Finally, with one last look, I grabbed the sheet and pulled it down over the painting. I had a lot of questions, but they’d have to wait until later. But as I left the room, I knew it would be some time before I got his face out of my head.

Check out Finding Emmaline

A Blackwood Series Novel

Book 1

Available on Amazon and Goodreads.