FOREVER KNIGHTS: #4 Battling Black Roses
Nora Looses Her Footing with Derrick Black

“Your friend was here.” Beth offered Nora the flower.

“Maybe it’s for you.” She said, feigning cheer despite the sinking of her stomach. “Keep it.”

“They’re your favorite. They’re here for you every sennight. Why don’t you like them?” Beth lowered it to examine its perfection. “They’re so pretty! I’d love for someone to leave me flowers...”

“Airon’s here. Move along.” Nora ushered them out the door.

From the end of the road she heard their front door slam. Looking back, she watched the twins climb into the Bishop carriage headed down the road.

Nearly to the tenderage, Nora saw Beth clinging to her porcelain doll.

Chirping drew Nora’s longing look to the park parallel the road. Still damp from last night’s fog.

Beyond Wickery Park was Phalanx forest. The leaves already touched by Fall russets and gold. Coating every lawn in wet leaves. Trees clung to the wisps of foliage, mere shadows of what they’d been a month past. Shallow puddles marked the road. A night chill lingered, lending air tinged with wood smoke, a crisp scent.

Tugging at her sleeve made her realize Airon spoke to her. His round face was framed by a mop of yellow hair. Brow furrowed with impatience. He was cute despite his currently protruding lip. The youngest boy of the Bishops, he was always enthusiastic about something.

“It was the biggest spider, Nora. Huge. Like a small cat.”

Nora widened her eyes in mock shock.

“Don’t worry.” He patted her hand. “I killed it.”

“With my shoe.” Beth whined.

Nora, still laughing, sent them through the dual wooden doors of the tenderage. Turning in the direction of the finishing tutelage, Nora stared at her dragging feet.

She glanced up and met the smiling gaze of Deragan heading toward her, carefully disguised. He peered into her mind and found her assessing him.

She judged him as tall with brown hair and dark friendly eyes.

He lifted his chin in greeting. There you are, My Love.

Smiling slightly, she lowered her head. Focusing her gaze on the long length of his tan-clad legs heading into high black boots. Broad shoulders were covered by a long black coat over a dark tunic. He wore dark gloves to ward off the cold.

Her eyes widened as she felt him familiar. She gnawed her cheek, staring at him thoughtfully.

That’s it, Love. Recognize me.

“Derrick.” Slowing down along the road, he offered her a bold wink and bowed over her hand. Reminding her she was still staring.

She gasped at the feel of his leather glove.

“What?” He frowned. S~ᴇaʀᴄh the FɪndNøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“Your glove should be cold but it’s very warm…”

I’m always warm when I'm near you.

“What’s your name, Miss?” He asked.

“Nora…” She nibbled her lip. Adding slowly. “Bishop.”

Hello, Nora Bishop.

“Nice to meet you, Miss Bishop.” White teeth flashed in a broad grin. Lowering his head politely he walked past her.

He waited. Sensing the moment, she could no longer resist looking back over her shoulder to watch him. He rolled his eyes to peer over his shoulder at the precise moment.

Seeing his gaze, her toe scraped over a crack in the cobble.

She yelped, stumbling before catching herself. Looking back in horror, she caught him chuckling.

“It’s always nice when a woman makes an impression.” He called tauntingly over his shoulder.

Mortified she rubbed her forehead and groaned.

Hearing the hum of hoofbeats her attention averted to the white carriage drawing up.

The Worthington carriage. It slowed to match her pace. Deragan recognized it instantly. Making his body tighten in annoyance.

He heard her groan in disgust. I know, Sweetheart.

The wooden cut out flipped open. The cream-colored hound jammed her nose through the opening.

Nora’s shoulders slumped.

Wherever that dog is, Worthington is. Deragan thought in disgust. Watching from around a tall fence. That boy is going to learn.

Deragan would look for an opportunity to teach him.

“What do you want Worthington?” She asked sharply.

He wants you.

But he won’t have you. Deragan’s teeth tightened. You’re mine.

And I’ll make sure he knows it.

Frowning, Worthington rubbed the head of the dog soothingly. Another face appeared.

Ronald Turner. Deragan recognized him as one of Nora’s tormentors.

“Turner.” She greeted disgustedly.

Worthington’s redheaded cousin pointedly eyed her from head to toe. I should feed him his eyes. Deragan thought. Nostrils flaring. She doesn’t know me yet. He reminded himself. Charging in there in a jealous rage will just make me look a fool.

Making a disgusted sound she positioned her shawl more fully over her cleavage. Interrupting Turner’s study.

Thankfully.

A third man snickered in the carriage. Leaning low she saw Mackenzie Turner, Ronald’s older brother, further back on the seat.

His peers call him Mac. The nickname was as dull as the boy himself.

“Still accompanying your little brother?” She sneered. “I thought you well from tutelage games. For years now.”

“That what you want? Someone out of tutelage?” Mac called coarsely.

“I’d sooner rot then court with you.”

Mac spat epithets. Leaning across the carriage with a threat on his lips.

Worthington put a staying hand on his shoulder.

She lifted a bored brow. Opening her mouth to retort, she was disappointed when Worthington cut in.

“When you going to stop pretending you don’t like the attentions of the Duke of Worthington?” He lifted his pointed chin meaningfully.

“Your father is the Duke of Worthington.” She corrected. “And I don’t want your attentions. Not in the least. In-fact, you accosting me along the road without a chaperone is quite inappropriate.”

As you say, Sweetheart. Fierce. He thought proudly. Listening to the dressing down.

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