11th Hour Rose by Melissa Lynne Blue Read Free Book Online Page A

history.”
    “Fickle?” Lilly snorted. “How so?”
    “At the start of the play the man is madly in love with one woman, what is her name again?”
    “Rosaline.”
    “Yes, Rosaline, that’s it. And upon sneaking into the Capulet’s ball he catches but one glimpse of the fair Juliet and falls madly in love with her.” David shook his head. “Fickle.”
    “Oh, Davy…” She sighed in exasperation. “There is so much more to the story than that.”
    “Is there? I should think the opening paragraph sums up the whole of the play. How does the thing start? Two households, both alike in dignity, in fair Verona, then there’s something about ancient grudge and new mutiny. A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life. Take their life! Will Shakespeare was good enough to tell us the end of the tale before we even take time to delve into it. I tell you, Lilly, anyone with half their wits should shut the book right then and there.”
    She laughed. “Aside from your rather egregious misquotation of the play, I must say you have quite the flare for the dramatic. Tell me,” she pegged him with a pointed stare, “why did you read it if you knew you wouldn’t like it?”
    “I never quit anything I start.” He took a small step forward feeling strangely drawn to her. “Now you tell me, just how egregious was my misquotation?”
    “Very.” A smile rolled across the perfect arches of her lips toying animatedly with the corners of her mouth. “And I still maintain the tale is not just about the love and loss of two star cross’d lovers.”
    He leaned forward squinting playfully just inches from her eyes, eyes of such crystal blue intelligence he wondered that he’d never stopped to look before. “State your case.”
    “Very well, Marshal Langston. The story is about the hate between the houses of Capulet and Montague and how said hatred led to the untimely demise of their children.”
    Watching her face light with such animation as she defended the play, he could not help but be intrigued. It occurred to him suddenly that for all the time he’d spent with Lilly, he rarely took the time to enjoy her company, actually talk with her. He liked talking to her.
    “The moral of the story is— Ouch! Oh, dear!”
    The metal pot lid clattered to the floor.
    “Did you hurt yourself?” David stepped forward instantly.
    “I burned myself,” she mumbled around the finger she’d stuck into her mouth.
    “Let me see.” He captured her wrist and slid his hands along her palm and fingers until he reached the injured digit. “I suppose it’s my fault for distracting you. In the future I shall refrain from discussing Shakespeare while we make dinner. Oh, my,” he said a bit more seriously, turning her hand over but not releasing it. “I think that is going to blister.” Without a thought he lifted the injured finger and pressed it quickly to his lips.
    “Better?” he asked quietly, eyes softly smoldering into hers.
    “Uh, huh,” she murmured, her lips, so perfectly pink, parted ever so slightly. He knew the immense satisfaction of flustering her in an entirely new way.
    With a pang, which quite nearly stole his breath away, David realized they were ambling about the kitchen like an old married couple. He stood smiling easily into her wide luminous eyes, fingers twined with hers, and the sensation was so perfectly pleasanthe ached. The simple act of taking her hand and kissing the injured finger had been the most natural thing in the world. He’d not even thought as he’d done it. Cocking his head to the side he could not help but note the way her hair—not quite curly, but slightly more than wavy—sprung loose from the prim pins she used to contain it. He liked her hair this way. Messy. Suddenly he longed to pull the pins from her hair and allow it to tumble loose down her back and shoulders. Had he ever seen her hair down before? He must have… funny he couldn’t remember. Funnier still he so desired to see