Tormented Clarkson my psychopath dreams of his Lady Flarice, find him in my novel, you will not be disappointed.
The Castle in the dream
Desperation veiled by its somber embrace and searching the citadel, scuffling through the passages, the northern face was chilled extra to the south. Muffled laughter drifted from the chambers, snores and spats. The flashlights in the sconces guided me. An old man stumbled from his chamber he carried a candle in his arthritic hands. He displayed a hat and a bobble dangled. Sir Richard was hiding her, but Lady Flarice’s voice led me to her, the harmonious tones pealed down the long corridor.
I hurried to the sound and through the keyhole, Sir Richard unhooked the gown, she shivered with anticipation, the Lady Flarice gazed, the stars in her eyes shimmered.
“My Knight in shining armor, I admire you so much.”
Slowly the robe skimmed down her legs, the Lady Flarice’s pubic hair was shaved in a lovely pattern. Her breasts full and curvy, glossy braids adorned her comely scalp. He caressed Lady Flarice’s hair with assured precision. Removing the crown tenderly, he positioned the silver circle onto the marble-table. Unwinding her hair and it tumbled into swells of luxury. I burst into the chamber.
“Oh,” the Lady Flarice said.
She hastily clutched the satin sheet to hide her body.
“For her honor,” I said.
The sword was in my hand, Sir Richard spun on his heels in a flash he grabbed the sword, and flipped his wrist, my sword clattered onto the paved slabs.
“You ought to be careful whom you challenge,” Sir Richard said.
The Lady Flarice was still hiding her body and I wanted to rip the satin sheet away.
“So it is you who wants the Lady Flarice and there is no Master in your other world,” he said.
Smithson my son
He was allowed to undergo the journey to his grandfather's homestead. Caldwell was in the doorway and his expression was donned with gloom. Rheanna’s mood was unspoiled, even though she was still ill, and dissatisfied with Caldwell's attitude.
“Here is your grandfather.”
The baby stirred he unfastened his eyes and closed them.
In her father's breakfast room, I lit the candles, they burned bright, and the champagne I chose was expensive, Caldwell brooded, the baby was close, and he resembled me exactly.
“He is the same as you,” her father said.
I was gladdened by my son's mirror image. Smithson was crying for his milk and Rheanna offered her breast, he suckled Caldwell was uncomfortable. Nearing to clear the plates and the servant was proud. Rhea’s father absconded our family unit was alone, new to the rigors concerning childcare.
“My father will come round and see the benefit of you in my life.”
“I do not think that will happen Caldwell’s hatred is deep-seated.”
“When Smithson grows up a little my father will mellow you just wait and see.”