Wanted: True Love

WANTED: TRUE LOVE

Fantasy Romance

By Janet Quinn

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2012 Janet Cornelow

All other reserved by author. The reproduction or other use of any part of this publication without the prior written consent of the rights holder is an infringement of the copyright law.

Cover art by Lex Valentine

www.janet-quinn.com

To my biggest fan, my sister Kathy. To my sons, Tom, Michael, and Robby for all their confidence, support and love. To my daughter-in-laws Jessi and Loki for their support. To Debra, my critique partner, for all her help and encouragement.

Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

Chapter 1

London, 1825

Bree-Anna eased back in Gerard's arms so a space existed between the two of them as he twirled her around the dance floor to the waltz music. She couldn't stop smiling. The excitement of the ball washed over her, making her want the evening to last forever. Everything is so beautiful. She looked up into his dark eyes. Thank you for escorting me.

He inclined his head. It is my pleasure.

He tried to draw her into him again, but she stiffened and held her distance. She didn't want the rest of the young men to think she was spoken for. That would spoil the entire evening if no one else asked her to dance.

Mama had adamantly told her she couldn't attend the party. Witches didn’t need to attend functions meant strictly for mortal beings. Besides, she was far too young to be thinking of marriage like a mortal girl. There were so many other things for a young witch to see and do. Bree-Anna had wheedled and cajoled for days to no avail. Gerard had interceded on her behalf, saying it would not harm Bree-Anna to attend. Mama held no truck with mortal ways and couldn't understand why Bree-Anna wanted a season like the other seventeen-year-olds.

The women are gorgeous. She glanced around at the riot of colors. Gowns of lavender and pink floated on the dance floor next to sea green and sky blue. Milk-white breasts peeked out from low-cut necklines. Curls dangled from atop fancily dressed hair, brushing cheeks tinted with a dab of rouge.

Fresh cut flowers, intertwined with ribbons, decked the stairway. Large vases stood around the edge of the room, filled with roses of every color. On a table at the side, a champagne fountain flowed, the crystal liquid bubbling merrily. Lucy Sutter was a lucky young lady to have parents who would put on such a ball for her just so she could find a husband.

The music stopped, and she gave Gerard a slight curtsy. Thank you for the dance.

He held out his arm. She placed her white gloved hand on his black wool jacket. He was a dashingly handsome man. A small mustache graced his upper lip. A tiny white scar the shape of a crescent moon gleamed next to his left eye, giving him a rakish look. His immaculate suit fit him to perfection. A perfectly tied white cravat graced his neck. But then, everything about Gerard was perfect. He'd had four hundred years to perfect himself.

Would you care for some champagne?

She smiled at him. Mama insisted she not drink, but what could one glass hurt? I'd love some. She wanted to be like all the other girls. They seemed to have so much more fun than she did.

He bowed. Wait here and I shall get you a glass.

As Gerard disappeared in the crowd, Bree-Anna looked about the room. The eligible young men stood in a group, appraising the young women. When the music started, those without a partner started toward the young women, several intent on one beauty in particular. Unfortunately, no one rushed to request a dance with Lucy. Poor Lucy did rather resemble a horse, but her parents had more than sufficient money, so it wouldn't matter. The men might not flock to her for a dance, but when the serious pursuit of marriage started, she would be near the front of the line. Money could make up for a lack of beauty.

May I have this dance?

Bree-Anna looked up and blinked at a handsome young man. He couldn't be more than twenty-two, with blond hair and eyes the color of the sky. Her heart fluttered. The music was so enticing. This was going to be the best night of her life. Why, I'd be...

Her dance card is full. Gerard shoved a glass of champagne into her hand and took her elbow.

Bree-Anna tried to wrench her arm free. He could be as big a bore as Mama. I wish...

We shall take some air. This room has grown stuffy. Gerard ushered her toward the door.

The young man stared at her. She shrugged her shoulders. Her magic wasn't strong enough to stop Gerard, and she didn't wish to create a scene in front of others and spoil her evening.

As they stepped out onto the balcony, Bree-Anna yanked her arm free and glowered at Gerard. You're acting boorish.

He sipped his champagne and stared at her over the edge of the glass. You don't need to dance with some young mortal.

I came to dance and have a good time, not to be ordered about by you. She fisted one hand, controlling the urge to slap him. I could have stayed home with Mama if I cared for that.

He brushed a strand of hair from her face. Now, Bree-Anna.

She swatted his hand away. Don't treat me like a child. She turned away from him. You're spoiling my evening.

I promised your mother I would look after you.

Balderdash. The music enticed her, and she glanced toward the ballroom. Everyone was having fun, except her. She chewed on her bottom lip. Why did everyone think they knew what was right for her?

He turned her toward him. Isn't it much nicer out here?

No, she snapped. She wanted to dance, not stand on the balcony looking out into the garden decorated with hanging Chinese lanterns. I came to have fun. This is not fun. Tears welled in her eyes. Just once she wanted to be like everyone else. Just once she wanted to be allowed to have a good time the way she desired.

I'll take you back in to dance in a few moments. You should rest awhile.

I don't wish to rest. I can rest at home. Mama might never allow me to attend another such party. She wanted to blink her eyes and make him disappear, but she knew that would make him very angry, and he'd be back before she could walk inside. She trembled, wanting to scream at him to leave her be. I want to make the most of it. She stamped her foot.

You're not going to dance with every young rake who asks. He glared at her as he set his glass on the railing.

Why not? She put her glass to her lips and drained it. The bubbles tickled her nose and throat, and she liked the sweet taste. She would get another glass when she went back inside. The warm feeling it gave her helped assuage the feeling that the evening was doomed because of Gerard's attitude. That is why I came.

You shouldn't drink so fast. It'll go to your head, and you don't know what will happen.

I don't care. What was the worst that could happen? She'd be a little tipsy. She'd seen others in that state and knew enough not to start giggling at everything, though she did have an urge to giggle. Gerard looked so severe. She hoped when she got that old, she wouldn't have forgotten how to have fun. You didn't answer my question. She set her glass next to his and crossed her arms.

What question? He tried to take her hand, but she moved it behind her.

Why can't I dance with all the young men? She smiled and tilted her head to the side, trying to look coy the way she'd seen other young girls do it. It didn't feel quite right, and the world shifted, making her think she might be falling.

They are beneath you.

For dancing? She laughed, then hiccupped. Pressing her hand to her mouth, she knew she blushed. Gerard, you're being absurd.

Bree-Anna, you mean so much to me. He took her hand. I want you to marry me.

She looked up into his eyes. What? Her mouth fell open. Marriage had never entered her thoughts. At least not at the same time as Gerard. She planned on getting married some day, but not at seventeen. Mama was right about being too young. Maybe when she got to be a hundred and twenty-five, she'd think about it. Until then, she wanted to discover life. She could have several seasons before anyone figured out she wasn't still seventeen. Then she could come back a few years later and do it all over again. She could have so much fun. She could dance and flirt forever.

I want you to be my wife. He looked so sure of himself, as if he expected her to drop at his feet, blessing him for rescuing her from a life of loneliness.

Gerard, I'm far too young to wed. She let her arms fall to her sides. If he hadn't looked so serious, she would have laughed at the idea. Besides, I don't love you in that way. I enjoy your company, but... She shrugged her shoulders. No. I could never marry you.

Bree-Anna, who else would you marry? He waved his gloved hand toward the dance floor. One of those incipient mortals?

I have no idea. I don't plan to marry anytime soon. Mama was two hundred before she wed.

You don't need to wait so long. You have gained sufficient age.

I have so much to learn. She couldn't picture herself as a wife. She wanted to have fun, enjoy life, see everything there was to see. Next week she might wish to go to France and attend a ball there. Or maybe she'd go to America. Mama would have a fit. She hated the New World. She called Americans barbarians.

I shall teach you.

I don't want a teacher or a father for a husband. I want a man I can love. She sighed. She'd dreamed of someone who would love her and not constantly expect her to be someone she wasn't. Mama never seemed pleased with her. She had few friends, and most of them had no desire to see and do the things she did.

She wanted to fall in love. She wanted someone to treasure her forever.

Gerard's face turned beet-red, and he sputtered. The veins on the side of his face stood out, and his scar pulsed. You will—become—my wife.

I think not. She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. The world tilted, and she grabbed for the railing to steady herself. I don't take to ultimatums. You may leave. She felt a bit unsteady, but she wouldn't admit so to him. She wanted him gone so she could return to dancing.

We shall leave now. He reached for her.

She shoved him away. You may be stronger than I am, but Mama will take exception if you harm me in any way. She smiled. She is stronger than you are.

He glared, his scar pulsing faster. You will become my wife.

I shall not. She blinked to clear her vision. Something crashed in the garden. Now leave me.

I cannot leave you here unescorted.

I know the way home, and I don't wish to leave yet. I want to dance. She stepped toward the door.

Bree-Anna, you will rue this day.

She glared at him, holding her head at an angle she hoped showed disdain and which kept the floor steady. She shouldn't have gulped the champagne. Her stomach was a little queasy.

He held his hand in front of him and moved it in a circular motion. Forever you will live in a world filled with unrequited love. Never will you find true love until you come to me. He snatched one of the diamond dragon pins from her shoulder. And you reunite the dragons.

A tingle raced through her body, and heat flooded her. She tried to snatch the pin back, but Gerard stepped out of her reach. You would curse me because I don't want to wed you? Her grandmother had given her the dragons. As a pair, they symbolized love. Apart, they brought only broken hearts.

You will wed none other than me. He disappeared, but his voice floated around her. If you don’t marry me by your two-hundredth birthday, your powers will become mine.

She sighed. She would discuss this with Mama later. Gerard must return her pin. She wouldn't allow him to hold her heart, but she wasn't ready to give her heart to anyone, so it could wait until tomorrow. After all, two hundred was a long ways off.

Right now, a party was going on inside, and she wanted to dance.

She entered the room as the quartet began playing another waltz. Several young men appeared in front of her. She smiled. At least she wasn't a wallflower like Lucy. In fact, Gerard had told her she was beautiful, and she chose to believe him. Her lilac dress showed enough cleavage to entice, but not too much. Mama had seen to that. She smiled at the blond-haired man and laid her hand on his arm. I believe this is your dance. She smiled and batted her eyelashes the way she'd seen the other girls do it. The flower vase to the side of her fell over, splashing water on her dance partner and the skirt of her gown.

Gerard, she muttered. He would be spiteful and ruin the rest of her evening.

I'm so sorry, Miss. A black-clad gentleman rushed up with a towel.

She waved him away, and he vanished. She gasped and blinked her eyes. Another vase crashed to the floor. She would ignore Gerard and enjoy herself. Shall we? She hooked her arm in the young man's and walked toward the dance floor.

He held her at a proper distance and twirled her about. The room seemed to twirl a might faster than they did.

The champagne. Mama had said not to drink any. Gerard said she shouldn't have drunk it all at once.

She closed her eyes to concentrate on the young man and the music, but the world twirled faster. She blinked, hoping to steady the world, and heard a crash. She peeked over his shoulder. The champagne fountain in front of her lay on the floor in pieces, champagne spilling everywhere. She groaned.

The young man stopped to look, as did everyone else. She smiled at the young man but carefully didn't bat her eyelashes. She feared she would destroy what remained of Lucy's ball. Will you excuse me, please? I need some air.

Bree-Anna scurried toward the balcony while the rest stared at the fountain. She ducked behind a plant and blinked her eyes.

She stood in her bedroom. Flopping across the blue satin coverlet, she sighed. She couldn't believe she'd ruined her own night out. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry. She could hear Mama saying, I told you not to drink champagne.

Chapter 2

Los Angeles, Present Day

Quinton Lawrey shrugged off his gray suit jacket and threw it over the end of the couch before flopping into his mother’s burgundy leather desk chair. It creaked and wheeled backwards toward the plate glass window. He swung his feet up onto her desk and crossed his ankles. Hands behind his head, he stared up at the ceiling.

He couldn’t believe he was sitting in his mother’s office, waiting for some wedding consultant who wanted the best caterer in town. If the client wasn’t new, she could have been put off for a couple of days, until the sales staff recovered from the flu. Of course, Quint didn’t believe for a moment that the whole staff had come down with the flu. He figured they’d been sampling left over crab cakes that had been sitting in the sun too long and had given themselves food poisoning.

However, he wouldn’t even mention that word around his mother. She’d have a stroke, and she didn’t need the added stress right now. Not with being in the hospital in traction because of a rollerblading accident.

Which was why he was sitting in his mother’s office. She looked so frail laying in that hospital bed that he couldn’t say no to her even though he had work of his own to do. Even if she shouldn’t be rollerblading at her age.

He needed to be in his office. The rash of thefts occurring at the social affairs for which his mother catered, and he provided security, was marring his reputation. If he didn’t put a stop to them soon, he’d be out of business.

He stretched and wished the client would hurry. He had no idea as to what to sell them and didn’t care. Mom would fix it later, just as long as someone met the new client.

The office door creaked open as the secretary slipped inside.

Your appointment has arrived. Gracey's voice bubbled, reminding him of champagne, which was part of her charm. She made the clients feel happy.

He plopped his feet on the floor and grabbed his jacket. Finally. He'd hurry them along and then get back to his own work. Show them in.

She glared at him. Get rid of the gun, Quint.

He pulled on his jacket. Part of the attire. The jacket was tailored to hide the fact he wore a shoulder holster.

Putting her hands to her hips, she shook her head. In the drawer.

He smiled at her. Afraid I’ll shoot someone if they don’t take my recommendations?

Your mom said you weren’t to be packing.

He laughed. Sounded like something his mother would say. I won’t tell if you won’t.

She’ll ask...

And you’ll tell. He let his head drop as he shrugged off his jacket and removed his Glock and shoulder holster, placing them inside the desk drawer. Pulling the jacket back on, he frowned at Gracey. One day he'd learn to say no to his mother. Better?

Much. She opened the door and stepped partially through. Mr. Lawrey will see you now.

A young woman entered, followed by a couple. The woman, wearing a light peach suit with a darker silk peach blouse that clung to her breasts, entered the room as though she owned the place. She smiled at him and extended her hand. I'm Bree-Anna. May I present my clients, Trudy and Raymond. She indicated the couple.

He took her hand. Her skin was soft and warm. He didn’t shake her hand, but held it. He looked into her eyes. They were golden. Almost like a cat’s eyes. They drew him in. Mesmerized him. Everything vanished but her.

Mr. Lawrey?

A faint voice seeped into his mind, and he blinked. He still held her hand, but she was smiling at him. She didn’t look offended. He should let go, but he couldn’t. Yes?

I was expecting Ms. Lawrey.

Her face was beautiful. He wanted to touch her cheek. Her lips were a rosy color and puckered slightly as if she studied him. He leaned a bit forward, wanting to kiss her.

What the hell was he doing? He dropped her hand and took a step back. He’d never been affected by a woman like this. His mother would have his head if he scared her away. Yes, I'm Quinton Lawrey. Oh, Ms. Lawrey is my mother, and she’s in the hospital.

I’m sorry. I hope it’s nothing serious.

She’ll be okay.

How are we going to get the best if the owner isn’t here? Raymond's voice grated against Quint’s ear.

Quint gave the