Hemlock Veils

It wasn’t long before he stopped beneath their tree tu

She bit her lip through a smile and dwelt on that early evening almost three months before, when she’d seen the garden for the first time and the air had been hot with infatuation. And how she hadn’t been able to remove her eyes from him. “How can I forget?”

He tucked her hair behind her ear, his dark caramel eyes smoldering. “While standing over there,”—he pointed to the end of the tu

He inched closer. “Elizabeth, right here, at that moment, was when I first realized I was falling in love with you. It was the moment I knew I would never get my heart back.”

Her eyes warmed.

Then, before she could think of an appropriate response, he lowered himself to one knee. Suddenly, she couldn’t breathe. “Ms. Ashton,” he said, “please be my wife. Marry me, in this spot.”

Unable to help herself, she grasped his face and kissed him, falling to her own knees. His arms, slightly tremulous, wrapped themselves around her at once. Three months ago, she never would have pegged Henry Clayton as a man to get nervous when proposing. Hell, she never would have pegged him as a man to propose at all.

She broke away from his mouth since she couldn’t breathe. In answer to his question, she simply nodded, since words were beyond her. He reached behind him, pulling something from his back pocket. Their canopy of trees and the setting sun made everything murky, but the golden band had a light of its own. Again her breath caught. It appeared to be ancient, two golden strands twisting around each other to form an intricate band. Atop it were three diamonds, the one in the center massive.

“It was my mother’s,” he said. He slid it onto her finger, his eyes hooded as he stared at it. “After she died, my father didn’t want it, so I kept it. And nothing has ever belonged to someone more than this belongs to you.”

“Henry.” She touched his face, staring at the greenish light glinting off the ring. She wasn’t sure she would ever get used to the sight of something so exquisite on her finger. His lips were eager and warm when they met hers, and just after she pressed herself into him, wrapping her arms around his neck, he pulled away abruptly, their joyous moment interrupted with the nervous sca

He froze, his gaze zeroed in directly behind her.

Her heart dropped.

She glanced in that direction, but she saw nothing. Looking back at Henry, she warily said, “What is it?”

“You didn’t hear that?” he asked in a distracted hush. His eyes flitted to hers just briefly before falling on the trees behind her again. His senses were still enhanced since the release of his curse, the beast’s senses never having left him—especially his heightened hearing. In the same way, she felt the residue of magic inside her, concentrated in her core as though it had solidified into a physical bulk of energy.

Before she could answer, he stood, pulling her to her feet. With his vision faithfully on the trees, his arm tightened around her. The same unsettling sensation she felt when walking through his gate minutes before resided in her abdomen again, only this time her excitement didn’t mask it.

The trees rustled behind her and she twisted with a start, finding the leaves twitching. “That I heard,” she whispered.

“Get inside,” he gently commanded.

“Henry, it’s probably nothing. It’s probably—”

“Elizabeth, inside.”

Her stomach churned, weakened. “Not without you.”

He threw an exasperated glance at her before creeping forward, since he wasn’t going to win. She stayed close, keeping her feet quiet. And just when the silence convinced her it had only been their minds playing tricks, the tree shook, startling her back. The mystery movement no larger than a human rushed through the underbrush as quickly as the beast had once moved. Whatever it was, it moved too quickly for Elizabeth’s sight, maneuvering through the rosebush and over the wall before she could get a proper glimpse.

At its departure, that bulk of energy in her core jolted, taking her breath—distracting her for the briefest second.

When she realized Henry was chasing it, he was already at the wall, leaping atop it. “Henry!”

He ignored her, sca

“What was that?”

Concern, or contemplation, knitted his brow. “Whatever it was, it’s gone.”

“Did you see it?”

He hesitated, and his silence answered her question.

“Well?” she urged, growing impatient and unexpectedly frightened.

“I wasn’t sure until now, but…”

“Henry, what aren’t you telling me?”

“I think something has been watching us, Elizabeth.”

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

As I walk to the stage, wiping tears of joy with a shaky hand, I pull the notecard from its place in my golden gown: the left side of my bosom, between the dress and my skin. The card is a little damp, and the many names I need to include in my acceptance speech are smeared. I didn’t even study them ahead of time because, honestly, I wasn’t sure if I’d get this opportunity. But now that it’s here…

I tuck the notecard back to my breast and decide to speak from my heart, hoping I don’t miss any names in the process. That’s how I’ve always talked best anyway—from my heart. And everyone I’m acknowledging now is right there inside it, taking up a permanent and special place for making my dream come true.

There are many souls who took part in making this a reality, and first I want to start with my family. If it wasn’t for their support, I wouldn’t have been able to hide away so many hours and pound out this story. My children might be too young to really root for me, but my love for them has taken my heart to places it never would have reached without them, and that has been my greatest inspiration. Thank you to my husband, who always believed I could do it, even when I didn’t think I could. He never doubted.

I have to mention Hemlock Veil’s first ever reader. When I started writing this story, I did so with the intent that no one else would see it. When I finished it though, and realized how badly I needed others to enjoy it too, I sent it to my very best friend. I was incredibly nervous, and half-expected her to come back and say, “You were right; this is crap.” But she said the opposite, and told me I had to get it published someday. Chloe wasn’t just my first reader, consult, and cheerleader, but she is also doing a painting for the book that will be available for readers. Thank you for your support and talent, Chloe. I love that you’ve been such a part of this process with me.

Along that same line, I want to thank that small handful of people who read it next: Jessica, Brooke, Cindi, and Mike. There are others, too, who read it over time, and all helped me bring this story closer to publication, step by step. Your advice and feedback were invaluable and crucial.

My dearest writer friends in my Twitter writing clan (you know who you are): you have helped in molding me into the person and author I am now, and your acceptance and love for me and my talents will never go unappreciated. Kele, you were perhaps the best beta of all. You offered me vital suggestions and advice on this story, as well as on the sequel, and the changes I made from our brainstorming are, I think, what finally put it past the line of just “acceptable.” I will always be indebted to you for offering your friendship, support, and expertise with these stories.