This excerpt is from an early draft of my work-in-progress, “The Shepherd and the Courtesan,” before I shifted the narrative to a first-person, switching between the POVs of the 2 protagonists in the title.
The Shepherd was enduring the nightmare again. The tower of stolen hearts was screaming so loud, he thought he would go out of his mind. He climbed the steps against the walls, desperately looking for his. Surely, she had stolen his.
The sound of laughter made him look down.
Woman was there, but so was Adrianna. Woman was shaking her head slowly and Adrianna looked amused.
“Don’t you worry, darling Shepherd. Your heart is safe.”
Woman started to laugh.
The Shepherd pulled himself awake, his heart pounding so hard he could feel its echo pulse through him.
The room was black when he woke. Disoriented, the Shepherd couldn’t remember where he was. The support of the mattress and the weight and warmth of the blankets were even more confusing.
Why wasn’t he on the ground? Where were his sheep?
His panic grew and his heart pounded even faster. The Shepherd felt around the bed until he found the headboard and footboard. The wood felt solid and comforting under his hands, bringing his recent memories back of the Capital City and the afternoon in the square, and all those evenings talking to Adrianna.
Adrianna the Beautiful.
He remembered their last meeting and a weight descend on his chest.
Such a lovely woman, she was capable of deep kindness and graciousness, along with her exquisite hospitality impeccable and her captivating charm.
Yet she was also ruthless. The hard set of her classical features when and the unforgiving gleam in her large golden eyes haunted him.
Her last story weighed on him, the tale that had lasted all night.
“Prepare yourself, Shepherd,” she had said. “The tale is rather grueling.”
She had tried to warn him.
The Shepherd shook his head.
What time was it?
What day was it?
He had been exhausted when he went to bed in the early hours of that morning.
The servant who had led him to his quarters pulled the curtains tightly together to keep out the light from the rising sun. The Shepherd remembered the glow of pink and lavender on the horizon with the coming day when he left the back patio.
Feeling his way around the bed, he made his way to the windows and lifted the drapery. He was startled to see darkness outside, with the moon high in a sky filled with stars.
He must have slept all day and well into the night.
As distressing as the story of the Patron’s Daughter had been, the images running through his mine, the Shepherd still fell unconscious as soon as his head hit the pillow and slept for about eighteen hours.
He couldn’t believe it. That was unheard of for him. There had never been a time in his life when he’d slept that long, no matter how little rest he received.
Pulling the curtain back for the dim light of moon and stars, he made out the dim shape of dressing robe placed along the dresser.
Really, Adrianna’s attention to detail was astonishing.
Fully awake, the Shepherd knew there was no way he was going back to sleep. Pulling on the robe, he left his room.
He’d never been up at this hour before.
He was surprised and relieved that there were candles burning in the glass sconces along the corridor, the flames brighter reflecting off the glass and lighting up the way so he could follow his restlessness.
The Shepherd made his way down the stairs, and wandered around the house. He breathed easily for the first time in weeks. The silence of the Courtesan Casa was a soothing relief, and the sconces made it easy for him to roam all over.
This was the first time he had been alone in weeks. He didn’t realize how much he’d missed it. The Shepherd savored that feeling of solitude, knowing he was the only soul awake in that house.
Eventually his wanderings brought him to the gallery of Adrianna’s portraits.
He hadn’t been there since his first day. The temptation to look through the paintings again was irresistible, especially after a few weeks of getting to know his hostess and her history.
His focus was different this time.
This time, the Shepherd focused on her face and her expression, rather than the provocative poses that had shocked him. Those beautiful, golden eyes sparkled, the woman in the paintings pulsing with life, excitement, and lust.
The legend of Adrianna the Beautiful was clear to see.
This woman had no regrets about the choices she made in her life.
The Shepherd closed his eyes for a moment. She was so much more than a beautiful woman, for good and ill. Her willingness to risk herself and those weaker and more foolish than she set her apart from most people.
“There’s an art to taking chances,” she had declared. “Morality has no place in that.”
The Shepherd bowed his head.
His taste for wicked women, as Adrianna had put it, had been hell to live with and beyond.
He looked at the paintings again, turning to her most recent one. Even in her elder years, that mischievousness, that spirit was still there.
Wicked woman.
“Welcome back to the land of the living.”
The Shepherd started at the sound of her voice.
He turned around and saw Adrianna coming down the stairs, a fur cloak trailing behind her. Underneath she wore her bloomers and camisole.
“I was growing rather alarmed about you, Shepherd. If you hadn’t woken up by breakfast time, I was going to send for the doctor.”
“I admit I slept excessively. But we were up all night.”
Adrianna raised one brow.
“Shepherd, you were asleep for almost two days.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I started the tale on Tuesday night. As you said we were up all night. It’s now early Friday morning. The sun will be up in a couple of hours.”
Adrianna came down the stairs and joined him. He liked her this way, with her long, silver-streaked dark hair in a braid, dressed simply for her exercise.
Suddenly, the troubling images of wicked women faded from the Shepherd’s mind and he melted.
Adrianna noticed his expression and smiled gently, with a slight arch to her right brow.
“Of all places to find you, here you are in my gallery of vanity.”
The Shepherd chuckled.
“So, Shepherd, are you staying or leaving as you threatened a couple of days ago?”
“I’m staying, of course.”
The Shepherd hesitated.
“I apologize for the other morning. It was unkind of me to speak to you like that. You’ve been very gracious.”
Adrianna shrugged.
“Don’t apologize for telling the truth. It insults us both.”
“That’s not what I meant. You were right. I have no right to judge you.”
“As a woman, Shepherd, I thank you for that. It is rare that a man surrenders such a precious belief about himself.”
“Excuse me?”
Adrianna smiled broadly.
“That is a long and involved subject that will have to wait for another time. I, too, would like to apologize.”
“For what?”
“That story was too much for you. I should have either been more discreet in how I described what happened so long ago, or perhaps even broke the story down into smaller chunks. It was overwhelming, perhaps more than you could withstand in one long night.”
“Please don’t apologize for that. You are a splendid storyteller, and I would hate for you to feel you had to hold yourself back, especially because I acted like an ass.”
Adrianna nodded and paused.
“Shepherd, does this mean that we are…friends?”
“Yes,” the Shepherd whispered.
“Good,” Adrianna murmured, gripping his hand with hers. “I was worried you would leave after all.”
The Shepherd squeezed her hand back, and her face softened as she smiled.
“I know I insisted on your turn to talk,” she began. “However, given the emotional hangover my last story wrought on you, I have a feeling you may not be ready for that.”
“You’re right.”
“I have another idea if you’d like to hear it.”
“Go on.”
“Would you like me to regale you with my early years in the Capital City? The transformation of the embittered peasant, Addie, into the Courtesan known as Adrianna the Beautiful?”
The Shepherd raised his brows, but said nothing.
“I hadn’t meant to share all that,” she continued. “Those years have nothing to do with Ella Bandita, and as we’ve recently discovered, the judgment of righteous men can be rather tedious.”
“I promise to keep my mind open.”
“And I promise you those tales are far more enjoyable and exciting to listen to than the ones you just endured. It will make a much nicer segue.”
“In that case, I look forward to hearing those stories from a captivating bardess very much.”
Adrianna’s face opened up even more.
“Perhaps you’d like to join me in my morning dance? After sleeping for two days, to stretch and move freely would feel wonderful.”
