Author's Note: I don't write fake people. The characters may be fictional, but their emotions are as realistic as I dare and try to make them. They will have days where everything makes them want to cry; they will have moments when the world seems like a dark and terrible place. They will also have moments of healing and days with a lot of happiness. They will have everything that human beings with emotions, including myself, have. They won't be "strong" all the time, whatever your definition of strength may be.
Victoria gripped the hem of her heavy gown with one hand, the other tucked into her brother's arm as they left the gangway. She savoured her first glimpse of the Sleeping Island, drinking in the unfamiliar views. Leafy, foreign plants rose up densely where the pale sand of the beach ended. A path of rocky gravel wound through a cleared trail between the trees, but everywhere else the vegetation's shadows spoke of the untamed wild and intrigue. Chirpy birdsong—accompanied by the faint hum of mosquitoes, because no place could truly be this beautiful without also being infested by blood-sucking creatures—filled the air. Though they'd long since waved their ship goodbye, sounds of the ocean was strong in Victoria's ears, the ebb and flow of it echoing the pounding in her chest. Her pulse did not quicken from fear or anger, but merely excitement, merely something she had not felt in a long time. Something Victoria had dreaded she was no longer capable of feeling. She was glad to see it return, the old companion on many adventures... and many more to come.
As they neared the end of the docks, salt-stained wooden boards creaking beneath her feet as well as those of her maid servant, Blake, and his valet. The sun beating down overhead was somewhat abated by a cool sea breeze and Victoria's wide-brimmed sun hat. She squinted, glad for the shade of her hat, and could make out two figures standing side by side on the beach. One distinctly female, with a billowing white gown and cascading dark hair, the other male with hair of the same colour. Could this man be the prince?
But no—when her slippered feet sank into the sand, neither of the faces that came to greet them were Matthew's. The first was a girl about Victoria's age or perhaps a year older. She was devastatingly lovely in a way that might have made Victoria feel insecure without the friendly smile that graced her countenance. "Unfortunately, the prince was feeling unwell, so he sent my brother and I to greet you. I am Celeste Mendoza—the governor's daughter. It is an honour to make your acquaintance, Lady Victoria."
"And a pleasure to make yours... Lady Celeste," she responded with some uncertainty.
Celeste Mendoza—the Duchess of Ashbrook's daughter, if Victoria remembered correctly. That would mean the man standing next to her, her brother, was the Duchess of Ashbrook's son: a future duke. She examined him discreetly: he was tall and well-built without any irregular features in addition to having noble blood, which by itself was enough to make any eligible noblewoman consider him a good match. But there was an air to him, a certain something behind the tawny cast to his skin and the curve of his lips into a stunning smile, that made her want to stop and stare for a moment, for an eternity. Not as though he expected women to fall at his feet in adoration, but as though the fates expected it, as though the world would cease to revolve around the sun if members of the female persuasion did not do the same to him. There was a natural magnetism to him, so strong that she nearly stumbled over her own feet as she stepped towards him.
"Oh!" Victoria put a hand to her heart, and found the other gripped firmly in Celeste's brother's grasp. "Thank you, Lord...?"
"My name is Francisco, Francisco Mendoza," he responded smoothly. Francisco lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it. She felt her face warm, and told herself it was only the external heat that had such effects on her body. "You needn't be so formal. Our customs are freer. Call me Francisco."
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Of Heirs and Havoc ✔️ | Of Crimes and Crowns Book 2
Historical FictionTHIS IS THE SEQUEL TO "OF MARRIAGE AND MURDER" NATASHA BLACKMORE: A year later, she's a mother. It doesn't mean she's any sweeter, or any more affectionate, however - only that she has more people to care for, and even more to lose. And even though...
