Lorelie Brown is a frequent commenter here at It’s Not Chick Porn and a good friend to our blog. In fact, you might remember her from her awesome entries into those writing contests I used to throw (and I will again, I promise, once I find the time… and the dough). When I asked her if she could oblige us with a novella and she gave me this one, I squee’d. So fun. So sexy.

If you haven’t already, please read chapters one and two.

Two years ago, Corrine McQuade was desperate to escape her father’s house. In a perfect world, she would have run to Adam Springton, handsome owner of the Gilded Angel saloon and the man she’d daydreamed about for years. Believing he saw her as only his sister’s best friend, Corrine struck out on her own, finding employment and creating the best life she could. Suddenly Adam is paying attention to her – the kind of attention that makes her skin tingle and heat and she’s tempted by a new chance at love.

But who ever heard of a happy ending for a whore?

Presenting the third chapter of Lorelie Brown’s Tarnished Angel…

Chapter ThreeThe pine forest Adam walked through was anything but serene. Blackbirds cawed and chirped overhead. A fat brown squirrel perched in a branch just off the path and chattered at him. He had no interest in the nut she clutched, since he was after bigger game. Luckily for the squirrel, he had a hankering for some venison and he continued down the path.

A little way ahead ran the babbling brook that served as a watering hole for local animals. Scouting the ground, he could see tracks from at least three deer; two does and a yearling. Fresh, smooth soled prints a bit longer than his hand pressed into the grass. Most of the town women stayed well away from what was left of the over logged pine forests. He had no idea who it could be.

When he arrived at the stream’s clearing, he saw Corrine sitting on a flat topped rock. Her skirt curved gracefully around her and the intricate pile of her hair showed the delicate arch of her neck as she bent over a sketch pad. Deliberately, Adam crunched over the leaves beneath him rather than gliding through.

Corrine startled, dropped her charcoal and turned to see who was behind her. Her eyes huge pools, her lips trembled until she identified him. “Oh, hello Adam.” She retrieved her pencil.

“Hello Corrine.” He moved closer, standing next to her rock. Her pulse still fluttered in the slender column of her neck. Adam wanted to grin. “It’s a fine morning.”

“Yes. Very clear.” She added a stroke of black to her page, a rope of embellishment on the hem of the dress she drew.

“I’m surprised you’re not in church, being as it’s Sunday.”

A dark smudge marred the drawing’s waist line. “You’re one to talk. You’re not there either. I’m not much of a church–goer.”

“You used to attend with Lissa every week.”

“Things change.” She set her drawing to the side.

“You used to love Sundays. I didn’t fear for Lissa’s behavior once you befriended her.”

“I had no idea you could be so cruel.” She finally looked at him and her normally lush mouth was set in a flat line. “Do you wish me to say it? I haven’t attended since I became a whore. I’ve no desire to be the topic of the sermon.”

Adam’s guts twisted as a rush of mortification flooded him. He had wanted to force the words from her, though he wasn’t entirely sure why. For a while after his return from Atlanta he’d been furious with her. He’d told her to wait for his return. It was as close as she could come to any kind of declaration when he didn’t know if he’d be able to support a wife. Instead she’d run to Madame Adrianne. It felt like a personal rejection. But eventually the resentment had faded and forcing her into a bald face statement of her whoring was beneath him. “I apologize,” he said.

She picked up her materials and stood. “I accept your apology. But I’m sure you’ll understand if I go.”

He understood but still found himself stopping her by the arm. His hand would completely encircle her forearm if he closed his fingers. Her bones were too fragile for the life she’d chosen. “Why? Why do you do it? I knew your father was cruel but what happened that night?” Adam had no idea why he asked. It was none of his business anymore. He should have asked the dark night she’d shown up on foot carrying one dress and a sketchbook.

Adam couldn’t read her eyes, but her narrow shoulders tightened. “Perhaps it was a rash decision. But Father got much worse after Mama died. He’d been screaming at me for days; I don’t even know why. That night he burned everything that was mine in the side yard.” She shrugged. “I’ve very few skills. If I went to Raleigh I’d end up in the same position, one way or another. At least if I stayed in Inverness, Madame Adrianna would give me a little consideration.”

“You could have stayed with Lissa and me. I told you to wait.”

“I would have been worse than a poor relation. Besides, you were gone to Atlanta because your fortunes were in doubt. You didn’t need another mouth to feed.”

A poor relation. She had no idea what he’d had in mind. “You could have stayed.” He knew he was being stubborn but one image remained. Corrine and her sweet, slow smile at his dining room table every night. She’d laugh lightly as he teased Lissa. Her eyes would flash, with no trace of lingering sadness.

“Please, Adam,” Corrine sighed and tugged her arm free. “Would you have me labeled as your mistress? I was still innocent then”

“What if it wasn’t only a label?” He was riding a half broke horse across open plains, reckless and wild. He hadn’t considered it previously but it was a brilliant idea. He would feel those soft curves and the smooth skin that had driven him crazy since she was eighteen and he first walked in on her and Lissa having tea in the front parlor. He’d taste her, all over. He’d bury himself in her warm, wet heat as often as he liked. And if he tried hard enough, really worked at it, he might be able to make her laugh again.

She considered it for a moment; he knew she did. Her eyes searched his and her mouth opened and closed without a word. Finally a smile curved her lips, even as her dark lashes glistened with tears. “I know you want to fix my problems. You’ve always been like an older brother to me. But that’s not a solution for either of us.”

“Yes,” he said dully. “A brother.” He wasn’t surprised she’d see him that way. He’d always acted toward her with the utmost restraint. One chink in his armor and Adam might land her on her back, clothing strewn, no matter where they were. And that would never do when she was his little sister’s only proper influence. So he’d held himself in the most rigid constraint, only to have it lash back at him both times he made an advance. The irony would kill him.

Adam watched her hips sway under her skirts as she disappeared into the tree line. Things were certainly different now. He’d make sure they were.

***

Corrine entered the home she shared with Madame Adrianna, Suzette and Gertie. Whorehouse. It’s a whorehouse. It was difficult to make herself acknowledge sometimes, a bit like rubbing her own nose in horse muck. Much easier focusing on the fact that Madame was kind to them. Suzette and Gertie were farm girls who decided they wished nothing to do with a plow. The small selection meant that Corrine seldom had to be trotted out like goods sent to market. The local men who came knew their options already. They could pick or make the trip into Fayetteville. Still, on evenings she did not have a set appointment, Madame liked them to sit in the parlor. Corrine checked the amazingly small watch attached to her blouse. She had about an hour to get ready.

Corrine had one booted foot on the carpet runner that went up the center of the stairs when Madame Adrianna’s office door opened.

“I was hoping that was you,” said the older woman. Always perfectly dressed, no matter the time, Madame was a narrow woman. She had slender shoulders, a skinny face and eyes that were set a tiny bit too close. A fierce intelligence snapped in her eyes, making her handsome. “I’ve a request for your company tonight. A new one.”

Corrine swallowed tightly and forced herself to nod. This was the part she disliked the most. A new client was an unknown. Would he be gentle, wishing to believe she truly desired him or would Corrine end the night feeling like she’d been invisible, an interchangeable cog in one of the machines that was reshaping their world?

“Yes, ma’am,” she said. Her voice sounded quietly reedy.

“He’ll be here soon, so please do get yourself cleaned up.” Madame had a strange light in her ice blue eyes. “Wear the white lace peignoir. I believe he’ll like it.”

Goodness. Corrine hoped he wasn’t into anything strange, like the eldest McCabe brother. She didn’t have the energy to put on any costume.

In her room, Corrine washed with a cloth at her basin, using a bit of rosewater. After brushing out her hair so that it lay like a curtain of brown velvet, she slipped into the robe Madame had requested. With time to spare, Corrine sat in her chair by the banked fire. Her sketchbook in her lap, Corrine hunted for the perfect line of draping to pull up the sides of Lissa’s dress. But her drawings did not progress.

Finally she heard heavy steps approaching and the crystal knob turned. Her book clutched tightly in her hands, Corrine rose. Oh how she hated these first encounters.

The door swung slowly open and Corrine dropped her book. Papers flew out, ripped from the binding and skittered around her bare feet. “Adam! What are you doing here?”

He seemed uncharacteristically nervous, twisting his hat in his hands. His gaze darted around the room, taking in the dresser covered in porcelain figures, the wash stand with her basin of water, the mantel behind her with more of the decorative figures. He locked onto the large bed, heaped high with burgundy and green pillows to match her striped wallpaper. After a long moment, he looked back at her. “I came to visit.”

“You can’t be here,” Corrine said. Her cheeks felt hot. “I – I have someone coming.” Her ears felt like they were trying to climb up her head, her scalp was so tight.

“That’s me,” he said.

Corrine’s hair flew as she shook her head. “No, I have a client.” Her stomach twisted. He had to leave before the new client arrived. It would be horrid should they come face to face.

Adam set his hat on a few bare inches available on the dresser. “That’s me,” he repeated.

“What?”

“I’ve paid for your time. Quite a pretty penny, in fact for only an hour.”

Stay tuned next week for Chapter Four…

___________________________________________

Lorelie Brown is a goddess walking among us. She works for the US Government and is married to a paratrooper who’s very stingy with his X chromosomes. As a result, they’re trying to turn three hellions into well behaved little boys. She can order a beer in five languages and is one of those annoying people who always win at Trivial Pursuit.

Occasionally she even remembers to move the laundry from the washer to the dryer.

This an original story given generously to us by Lorelie Brown. DO NOT post any part of this story on your site without attribution to Lorelie or a holla-back at her site. That’s not cool. Always give credit where credit is due, yo.

Note: Hey, other writer-types, do you want to contribute to The Serial? If so, email me and I’ll hook you up, yo.

Till, then… Love, peace, and snarkage, my babies. Peace!

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