6
ANNALISE
My head throbbed like a drum solo after a particularly raucous night. The smoky haze of the tavern clung to my clothes, and the memory of those hulking men loomed large. Yet, a sliver of amusement bubbled up through the fog. My mysterious savior, with his fancy clothes and misplaced bravado, had waltzed in and saved the day.
“Who are you?” I repeated, the question echoing in the quiet night.
He chuckled, a low rumble that sent a shiver down my spine. “Someone who fancies himself a knight in not-so-shining armor.”
“A knight?” I scoffed, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of my lips. “More like a gambler with a lucky charm.”
“Perhaps,” he conceded, a glint in his eyes that made my stomach do a nervous flip. “But a gambler who won you a fair shake, wouldn’t you say?”
Fair shake. The phrase hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. This stranger, whoever he was, had rewritten my future with a single, audacious move.
“Thank you,” I mumbled, the words inadequate but sincere. “You have no idea what you’ve done for me.”
He tilted his head, studying me for a moment. “Actually, I have a pretty good idea.”
His gaze held mine, a mix of amusement and something deeper, something that sent a blush creeping up my neck. This was madness. Here I was, a woman on the run from a future filled with accusations and a potential death sentence, flirting with a man who appeared out of thin air.
“Look,” I blurted out, breaking the unsettling eye contact, “I appreciate the rescue, truly. But who are you, and why are you helping me?”
He sighed, a hint of regret flickering across his face. “Let’s just say... I know what your future holds, and it’s not pretty.”
My heart hammered against my ribs. Did he know about Spencer? About the accusations, the trial, the execution?
“So, you’re here to save me?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
“In a way,” he said, his voice carefully neutral. “But ultimately, the choice is yours.”
My mind raced. Trusting a stranger, especially one who spoke of futures and choices, felt like a gamble even riskier than the one at the tavern. Yet, the alternative – returning to a life filled with Spencer’s manipulations and a looming death sentence – was far worse.
“Alright,” I finally said, the words tasting like ashes in my mouth. “I’ll trust you. But for now, let’s just focus on getting me out of this city, out of this whole mess.”
He smiled, a genuine one this time, that crinkled the corners of his eyes and made him look less like a mysterious savior and more like... well, a rather attractive man.
“Sounds like a plan,” he said, his voice warm and inviting. “But there’s one thing you should know. This whole future-altering business comes with a few... complications.”
Intrigue battled with caution in my chest. “Complications?” I echoed.
“Let’s just say,” he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “that things might get a little... complicated between us.”
My breath caught in my throat. The air crackled with unspoken possibilities.
“Like what?” I managed, my voice barely above a squeak.
A playful glint danced in his eyes. “Let’s just say, if you keep looking at me like that, you might just call for a fall.”
I huffed, a mixture of annoyance and something else entirely bubbling up inside me. “Oh, please,” I scoffed, trying to sound nonchalant. “Like I’d ever fall for a charming stranger who speaks in riddles.”
He raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk on his lips. “Is that a challenge, Annalisa?”
My cheeks burned. “Maybe,” I mumbled, unable to meet his gaze.
He threw his head back and laughed, a rich, infectious sound that filled the night air.
“This,” he said, shaking his head, “is going to be interesting.”
Interesting indeed. But for the first time in a long time, there was a flicker of hope, a spark of something new, all thanks to a mysterious stranger and a gamble on a future yet unwritten.
*****
The carriage rattled along the cobblestone streets, each bump sending a tremor through my already churning stomach. Beside me, Adrian, my newly minted husband (courtesy of a quick ceremony officiated by a rather nervous-looking priest), seemed unfazed.
“Relax,” he murmured, squeezing my hand. “They’ll come around eventually.”
“Eventually?” I squeaked, my voice barely audible over the din of the carriage wheels. “Adrian, this is the Duke and Duchess of Wales! My parents! They’ll disinherit me for sure!”
He chuckled, a low rumble that did little to soothe my frayed nerves. “They might shout. They might throw a tantrum. But trust me, they won’t disinherit their only daughter, especially not over a perfectly delightful fellow like me.”
“Perfectly delightful?” I parroted, raising an eyebrow. “You do realize we’ve known each other for a week, right?”
“A week filled with adventure, danger, and a near-death experience,” he countered, a playful glint in his eyes. “That practically translates to years in the world of normal people.”
I couldn’t help but smile. This whole situation was ridiculous. Here I was, defying my parents’ wishes for the second time, only this time, instead of the brooding and frankly, dull Spencer, I had chosen a charming stranger who claimed to be from the future (a claim I was still trying to wrap my head around).
The carriage lurched to a stop, jolting me back to reality. The imposing oak doors of the Duke’s mansion loomed before us, a silent testament to the impending storm.
Adrian offered me his arm, a silent reassurance. Taking a deep breath, I squared my shoulders and followed him up the steps.
The grand foyer was bathed in a golden light, casting long shadows across the polished marble floor. A tense silence hung in the air, broken only by the staccato tick of a grandfather clock. Then, a voice, laced with icy fury, shattered the stillness.
“Annalisa!”
My mother, the Duchess, materialized at the top of the grand staircase, her crimson gown a stark contrast to the pale white walls. Her usually carefully styled raven hair was a mess of loose strands, and her eyes, usually sparkling with amusement, were narrowed with anger.
“Mother,” I stammered, my voice cracking under the weight of her disapproval.
“What in the world is the meaning of this?” she boomed, her voice echoing through the vast hall. “Who is this... this stranger you’ve brought into our home?”
Adrian, bless his heart, puffed out his chest and took a step forward. “Actually, Duchess, I’m Annalisa’s husband.”
The air crackled with tension. My mother’s eyes widened, then narrowed to slits. “Husband? Since when?”
“Since this morning,” I mumbled, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks.
A strangled gasp escaped my father, the Duke, who had materialized beside my mother, his face an even deeper shade of red than his usual florid complexion.
“Married? To a complete stranger?” he roared, his voice booming through the hall. “Annalisa, have you completely lost your mind?”
“It’s not like that, Father,” I pleaded. “It’s complicated.”
“Complicated?” my mother echoed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Is that what you call defying your parents for the second time? First, that brooding Spencer, and now this...” she gestured dismissively at Adrian.
“He’s not like Spencer, Mother,” I interjected, my voice gaining strength. “He cares about me.”
Adrian shot me a grateful look, then turned to address my parents. “Your Grace, Duchess,” he began, his voice surprisingly calm. “I understand your concerns. But I assure you, I have nothing but the best intentions for Annalisa.”
My father snorted. “Intentions? We don’t need good intentions! We need a proper husband for our daughter, someone with a title, with a future!”
“And apparently,” my mother added, her voice laced with icy venom, “that someone doesn’t include a charming stranger who claims to be from the future.”
Adrian blinked, his composure momentarily shaken. “The future?” my father boomed, his voice tinged with confusion.
“That’s a story for another time,” I interjected quickly, before this whole charade unraveled completely.
The argument raged on for what felt like an eternity. Accusations flew back and forth, voices growing louder and more strained. Adrian, bless his heart, tried to reason with them, but his pleas fell on deaf ears.
Finally, at the end of my tether, I slammed my fist on the table. The sound startled everyone into a halt.
“This is Adrian, and he is the one I want to be with, you might have not agreed with my relationship with spencer and that made you not to come but with Adrian, I will be with him, no matter what,”
7ANNEAnnalisa, that stubborn, headstrong chit, had defied me not once, but twice! First, that brooding bore Spencer, and now, this… this stranger who appeared out of thin air and whisked her away like a prize in some ridiculous game.The gilded cage of my drawing-room felt like it was shrinking in on me. I tapped a manicured finger against the delicate porcelain teacup, the rhythmic clatter a counterpoint to the storm brewing inside me. The Earl Grey, usually a source of solace, tasted like bitter ash on my tongue.“Spencer,” I hissed, the name dripping with venom.Spencer, ever the picture of stoic control, shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Yes, Your Grace?”“You look like a kicked puppy,” I snapped. “Is that truly the best you can do? Annalisa throws herself away on some charlatan, and you sit there like a lump?”He flinched, but his voice remained steady. “I respect Annalisa’s decision, Your Grace.”Respect? Respect be damned! This wasn’t about respect; it was about control. An
8ANNEFury vibrated through me like a poorly strummed lute. My perfectly manicured nails dug into the velvet of the armchair, leaving faint crescent moons of frustration. There he sat, my supposed father, the Duke of Wales, sipping his brandy with an air of nonchalance that would make a saint want to spit fire.“That’s it?” I hissed, barely containing the storm within. “You just hand over the Dukedom to Annalisa? No fight, no argument?”He chuckled, a dry rasp that grated on my nerves. “Fight with whom, Anne? Annalisa’s the one who actually cares about this crumbling pile of stones. You, on the other hand…”His voice trailed off, the implication clear – I only cared about the wealth and prestige the Dukedom brought. He wasn’t wrong, not entirely. But that didn’t mean I wouldn’t fight tooth and nail to keep it.“She’s reckless, impulsive!” I sputtered, leaping to my feet. “That so-called husband of hers appeared out of thin air, and she marries him within a day! Is that the kind of pe
9ANNALISEMy hand trembled as I reached for the doorknob, the polished brass suddenly feeling icy cold. I’d been drawn to the study by the sound of raised voices, my mother’s sharp pronouncements cutting through the air like a rusty blade. Now, pressed against the cool wood of the door, I strained to hear more.“She’s a whirlwind of reckless impulsiveness!” My mother’s voice crackled with fury. “And this Adrian fellow is a complete unknown!”My stomach twisted. They were talking about me, about Adrian.“Perhaps,” my father’s voice rumbled, laced with a hint of amusement, “but there’s a spark in Annalisa I haven’t seen in years.”A spark. My cheeks burned. It wasn’t just a spark; it was a raging inferno that Adrian had somehow fanned into existence. But could I sustain it? Could I build a future with a man who claimed to be from the future?“You’re impossible,” I heard my mother mutter, followed by the heavy thud of a chair scraping against the floor. “And you, Anne, are far too quick
10ANNALISEThe ballroom spun, a dizzying kaleidoscope of swirling skirts and flashing jewels. Duke Rhys and his coven of witches had thrown a bash to celebrate the successful retrieval of a mythical artifact – something about a talking teapot, if memory served. My parents, usually stoic and reserved, were practically waltzing on air. Dad, surprisingly light on his feet, kept twirling Mom around until her laughter echoed through the hall.Meanwhile, I was stuck with Adrian. Not exactly a punishment, but not the dashing prince I’d envisioned for this grand occasion, either. We’d been partnered together because, as the Duke helpfully pointed out, “we young folk need to stick together.” As if I needed reminding. Adrian, in his usual rumpled suit, stood out like a moth in a butterfly garden. But there was something about his smile – a hint of mischief in his eyes – that made him strangely endearing.He led me through the steps of a waltz, his hand surprisingly firm on my lower back. We ci
11ADRIANMy stomach lurched as I watched Anne sidle up to Annalisa, a sly smile playing on her lips. Annalisa, blissfully unaware, was engrossed in a conversation with Beatrice. A prickle of unease ran down my spine. There was something about Anne’s posture, the way she held the wine glass a little too close to her body, that set off my internal alarm bells.Years of poring over historical accounts of poisoning had given me a healthy dose of paranoia, especially around unattended beverages. I couldn’t pinpoint why, but Anne’s presence reeked of something off. Maybe it was the overly sweet perfume that clung to her like a cloying fog, or the way her eyes seemed to flicker between Annalisa and the glass with a glint that could only be described as...predatory.Whatever it was, I couldn’t ignore the gut feeling gnawing at me. Just as Anne reached out to offer the crimson liquid to Annalisa, I sprang into action. With a burst of adrenaline, I lunged forward, my foot connecting with the b
12ANNALISEMy stomach churned like a washing machine on high spin. Sleep was a distant dream, the events of the previous night replaying on a loop in my mind. Adrian’s accusations, initially dismissed as paranoia fueled by punch and party lights, now flickered with unsettling possibility. Anne’s overly sweet perfume, her persistent hovering near me with that damn wine glass – it all felt a little too…convenient.The first sliver of dawn peeked through the curtains, painting the room in a soft, mocking light. I tossed off the covers with a sigh, the decision solidifying in my gut. Answers. I needed them, and Anne was the only one with a key.I found her ensconced in our usual breakfast nook, a picture of serenity with a steaming cup of tea cradled in her perfectly manicured hands. Her blonde hair, usually a cascade of effortless waves, was pulled into a tight bun today, mirroring the steely glint in her eyes.“Anne,” I announced, my voice betraying none of the turmoil within. “We need
13ANNEI could feel the tension in the air as he paced back and forth.“Hey, Anne,” he said, running his hands through his hair. “I’m really stressed out. I don’t know if I can focus on anything else.”I bit my lip, trying to think of a way to help. And then it hit me.“Spencer,” I said, my voice low and seductive. “I could give you a blow job. It might help you relax.”His eyes widened, but then he nodded. “Okay. Yeah. That might work.”I moved closer to him, my heart racing. I could feel the heat radiating off his body. I reached for his belt, slowly unbuckling it.“Anne,” he whispered, his hands on my shoulders. “Are you sure about this?”I looked up at him, my eyes sparkling. “I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.”I pulled down his pants, his cock springing free. I wrapped my hand around it, giving it a gentle squeeze.“Oh, fuck,” he moaned, his head falling back.I leaned in, my lips brushing against the tip of his cock. I could taste the saltiness of his skin. I
14ANNALISAA clammy sweat slicked my skin as I jolted awake, the dream clinging to me like a shroud. It wasn’t the first time this nightmare had visited, a recurring torment from a past life I barely remembered. This time, though, the details felt sharper, the emotions rawer.I was trapped in a crowded square, the cobblestones slick with a suspicious sheen. A jeering mob circled me, their faces contorted with a mix of fear and morbid curiosity. In the center stood a rickety wooden platform, the executioner sharpening his axe on a nearby grindstone with a chilling rasp.My throat constricted. This couldn’t be real. It was just a dream, a cruel trick my subconscious was playing on me. But the fear felt distressingly real, the taste of metallic terror thick on my tongue.“Annalisa Dubois!” A booming voice echoed through the square, silencing the jeers. A pompous man in a feathered hat stood on a raised dais, reading from a parchment that trembled in his hand. “You stand accused of the h