S H A D E S

EPILOGUE

As promised, here's the special Holiday addition to Playing in the Shade - a Christmas style epilogue. But, as a bonus for you guys, I have made this an extended version so much steamier than what debut in the Mistletoe and Mischief anthology ;) Cause I know you guys can take it.

So enjoy! and thank you all soooooooo much for taking part in Laura and Tristan's incredible journey.

***

"Here we are, Miss. Shade Lodge."

"Wonderful," I said, the first kick of excitement chasing away any budding haze of jet lag. After a fourteen hour journey, on the back of a brutally long week of meetings, at long last I was here.

Dublin. The heart and home of Tristan Shade.

Barely a stone's throw from the bustling central hub of the Emerald Isle, the chauffeured sedan pushed along narrow roadways and down to a cloistered private drive of a stunning property.

Shade Lodge, as its owner, was an arresting picture of sweeping beauty. With a slate shingled roof, and walls of whitewashed brick covered in charming ivy, topped with stately chimneys puffing plumes of smoke and lead glass windows. As the car rolled to a stop I tried to imagine Tristan here with his parents. A captivating little boy rolling around in the manicured lawn with a puppy nipping at his heels, or even sitting beneath the shady boughs of the large oak holding a tattered copy of Yeats, whiling away the summer months.

Stepping out of the car, I took it all in, charmed by the architectural beauty intimately woven with historical elegance. The sky a wash of grey clouds backlit with sun. The promise of snow frosted the air and sent a damp chill to slice through the layers of my cashmere trench coat. Chilled, I hugged my arms to my chest.

While the driver dealt with the luggage in the trunk, the bright cobalt front door whisked open and a spindly man, elegantly dressed in pressed slacks and cranberry sweater, rushed out. His pale face flushed against the brisk wind.

Stanley Daulton, the head butler had been in Tristan's employ for eighteen years. At a hair over the age of sixty, he took fierce pride in his work and ran the household with intimate efficiency.

"Mistress Pierce, we're so very happy to receive you." Directing the driver to take my luggage inside, he plucked my shoulders in my hands and leaned in to air kiss my cheeks. "I trust you had a pleasant flight?"

"I did," I said as he looped my hand through his arm to lead me up the walkway. "Did everything arrive on time?"

"Oh, to the letter, Mistress. To the very letter," he said, opening the main door, all glossy paint and polished brass fixtures. "We stored everything in the back house until the Master left early this morning." Shutting the door behind me, Stanley helped me out of my coat, hanging it delicately in the large, walk-in entryway closet.

"Thank you, Stanley, you've been very helpful."

"My sincerest pleasure, Mistress," he answered, a concerned gleam dimming his smile. "I'm not sure I'm comfortable leaving you to handle this immense task all on your own. Shall I stay another hour or two and assist? It would be my--"

"Sincerest pleasure?" I finished for him, smiling. "Thank you, Stanley, but this is something I would like to do myself. For personal reasons. Go, the driver is waiting to see you to the airport. Enjoy your vacation. I'm sure Daniel is eager to get to Bali."

An excited flush warmed his cheeks at the mentioning of his husband's name.

"Yes, that he is. You were most generous to arrange this for us. We haven't taken such an extravagant holiday in...quite some time."