About Shadow Road
by AJ Wilde
36 pages
/ 15000 words
ISBN: 978-1-60370-253-9, 1-60370-253-9
Available file types - lit, pdf, prc, html
After his mistress is killed by rogue highwaymen, servant Bailey ends up in the hands of Lord Charles, the man his lady was to marry. Sick with fever, exhausted from his ordeal, Bailey can only remember that someone cared for him gently when he first arrived, and that the mysterious Lord Charles seems to have a great interest in him.
When Bailey recovers and begins to work for Lord Charles, he discovers that his new home is also plagued by a highwayman, one called the Shadow. Out late one night on his Lord's business, Bailey encounters the Shadow himself, and learns more about the daring bandit than he ever dreamed possible. Will their secrets destroy them, or will Bailey and Lord Charles find a way to be together?
Sample
The lone occupant of the forge did not look up when Bailey arrived. Standing with his back to Bailey, sweat trickled down his lean brown arms, making his muscles gleam golden in the flickering glow from the fire. His sinews flexed as he wielded the hammer, tap-tap thunk, tap-tap thunk, on the white-hot blade. Bailey stared, fascinated, as the smith worked the metal, turning it over on the anvil, hammering it some more, then thrusting it back into the fire. The smith's long, black hair escaped its tie and fell in straggles past his shoulders, dank with sweat and soot. His once-white singlet clung to his wet back, cleaving to the curve of his muscles, and Bailey's face flushed with shame to feel his body responding without permission.
"Are you going to stand there all day, boy, or am I going to have to put you to work?"
The voice sent a shiver down Bailey's spine, and he took a step backwards as the smith turned to face him. Bailey wished the ground would open and swallow him whole -- for there, in honest workaday sweaty glory, and grinning like a peasant, was Lord Charles Huntingwood.
"Well, don't gawk like a stable boy," said Lord Charles, wiping his face on his apron. "Unless that is your ambition in life?"
"No, my Lord," Bailey stammered. "I … I mean, I'm sorry, my Lord." Bailey stepped nervously across the threshold under the low eaves of the forge. A wall of heat practically took his breath away.
"Hand me the tongs," Lord Charles said, looking back to the raw steel in the fire. Bailey looked around, then found the long-handled iron tongs and gave them to Lord Charles, who took them without meeting Bailey's eyes.
"It is I who is sorry, lad," he said quietly, turning the steel in the coals. "I was too harsh with you, and you took a fever." Lord Charles extracted the blade from the fire and examined it closely.
"I am well now, my Lord," Bailey said, eager to reassure his master, although the heat was making his head swim.