Powerless (3 page)

Stella Notecor believes that love has no boundaries
and we cannot help who we love. This belief is reflected in her stories which
involve homosexual, heterosexual, bisexual, pansexual, transsexual, etc.
characters. She refuses to limit herself to writing one sexuality. Instead, she
writes what the story requires, be it a straight, gay, or polyamorous
relationship.

If you are interested in reading more of her stories, please visit her
website at
www.stellanotecor.com
or
sign up for her newsletter at
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.

Liked This Story?

Try another of Stella Notecor’s books!

Read on for a preview of the first two chapters of her
novella
The Broken
.

James guards his secrets.
Uncertain as to whom he can trust with his family's secrets, James Bradford has
lived a lonely life since becoming Baron of Riverside. When he meets an equally
enigmatic violinist named Sheamus, he begins to wonder if he's found someone
with whom he can share everything.
Sheamus guards his body.
No one has ever shown Sheamus Flynn affection except his mother. That changes
when he meets James, but Sheamus cannot trust him. Sheamus has been used by his
master, Cade Edward, and he knows better than to believe James could ever love
a mere servant.
They both guard their hearts.
Over the course of the 1876 Social Season they cautiously fall in love, only to
be violently ripped apart by Edward. Defeating Edward's deceptions will require
both of them to share long guarded secrets.
Can they trust each other?
This 30,000 word SPICY story contains BDSM elements, a male/male couple, and
lots of sex!

CHAPTER ONE

The high, mournful notes of a violin beckoned James into the
manor. He nodded to the butler and handed off his cloak to his manservant,
Richard, who went to join the rest of the servants waiting for their masters.

James entered the ballroom and headed towards the music. It
was more than a little rude to arrive and not greet the host and hostess, but
for once he didn’t care. Propriety be damned, he had to know where the music
was coming from. He edged along the dance floor, avoiding both the dancers and
the observers, and headed towards the stage, a small raised platform, where the
musicians for the evening sat.

The notes of a piano, a clarinet, and a violin intertwined
perfectly, creating music more wonderful than any James had ever heard before.
The beauty of the music could all be attributed to the violin player. The man
slowed and hastened his own playing to match it to the others, playing softly
at moments when the others were more powerful and loudly when they were quiet.

The music flowed through the crowd, infecting them with the
urge to dance. James had never seen a group of dancers enjoy themselves more.
The music was a waltz, by Chopin, James thought, though the tempo was a tad
faster than normal. The men and women on the dance floor hardly seemed to
notice, but he could tell from the flushed cheeks and broad smiles that they
were enjoying the quick pace.

It was all due to the violinist. The trills of his violin
pulled the rest of the room into his music and swept them along on the song.
James watched him push and pull the bow over the strings as his fingers danced
along the neck, nimble and graceful.

The long fingers captivated him, but not as much as the
violinist’s face. The man was fully involved in the music, his eyes closed, one
foot silently tapping out the beat. His hair, long and black, was pulled back
from his face and tied with a ribbon at the nape of his neck, and the man paid
no attention to it as he played. James was amused as he watched it flip and
flop all over the place with the violinist’s harsh movements.

As the song ended, the violinist’s movements slowed until no
more notes echoed in the room. Only then did his eyes open. James found himself
staring into them, fascinated by the brilliant green. The man gazed at him in
return for mere seconds before shuttering his eyes and turning away. The man’s
glance made James’ breathing stutter and his hands tremble.

He moved away from the platform, anxious to escape before
anyone could see how the musician had captivated him. It was dangerous to pay
too much attention to a man. Loving men was a perversion. Should anyone accuse
him, James would face harsh fines, perhaps even a prison sentence. James didn’t
dare open himself up to accusations about his preferences—he had too many other
things to hide.

Glancing around the room, he spotted Elizabeth Osmond
staring longingly at the dance floor. James headed in her direction, partially
out of pity for her, but mostly for his own benefit. What better way to hide
one’s proclivities towards men than by dancing with a woman? He pasted a smile
on his face as he grew closer to the beautiful young lady.

The smile she offered him in return was quite attractive,
but it did not tempt him in the slightest. James felt sorry for the girl. She’d
likely end up a spinster, as she was already twenty-two years of age with no
marriage prospects. She had been out for four years, but the gossip amongst the
ton was that not a single man had shown interest in her.

James bowed to her. “May I have the honor of dancing this
set with you?” he asked, presenting his hand.

Miss Osmond nodded and took it softly, her white kid glove
skimming over James’ calluses. He led her to the dance floor, pulling her into
position near three other couples as a quadrille began. James could hear the
violin above the other instruments again, its notes twining around the spinning
dancers and twirling them ever faster.

Following the head couple, he danced carefully with small
steps to match his partner. He kept his eyes on Miss Osmond and the dancers
around them, refusing to allow himself even a glance towards the musicians.
They danced in silence for a few moments until Miss Osmond leaned towards him
and whispered, “You seem terribly distracted; I am rather afraid you shall trod
on my feet.”

James laughed lightly at her jibe, knowing she expected him
to be offended by her mention of her lower limbs. “Fear not, my lady, for I am
quite fleet-footed. I shall do my best to offer my attention to you though,
rather than focusing on the beautiful music.”

They stepped around and then moved back together,
continuously circling about their part of the dance floor. “The music is
extraordinary, is it not?” she murmured when they were near enough to speak.
The steps of the dance sent her whirling away seconds later, saving James from
having to voice his opinion on the music… or the musicians.

Moments later the music brought her back, a gleam of gossip
dancing in her eyes. “Lenore Edward informed me that her father hired the
pianist and clarinetist for tonight, and it cost her father more for the two of
them than all of the food.” Miss Osmond shot him a saucy smirk. “Do forgive me
for speaking of money, Lord Riverside. My mother despairs of ever taming my
tongue.” She paused momentarily. “I find topics which I am not to discuss most
interesting.”

James clasped her hand and squeezed it gently enough that
those watching would not see it. “I would agree, though not in the presence of
Lady Catherine Osmond. Your mother is a most formidable woman.”

Miss Osmond burst into raucous laughter, startling the
couples around them and earning herself a sharp glance from the aforementioned
Lady Catherine. It took three turns about their section of the dance floor
before she could calm down.

“My lord, that is an understatement if I’ve ever heard one!”
she exclaimed. Breathing harshly for a moment, she brought herself back under
control. “Still, we’d best turn our conversation to a different topic. My
mother has ears like a hawk, and I’d do well not to irritate her. She is
already quite irked that I turned down Sir Mitchell’s offer to dance earlier
this evening.” She snorted, an unladylike sound that suited her. “As if I would
dance with that buffoon. He’d likely trip us both in the middle of the Grand
March.”

James watched the young girl flush with frustration. The
strong emotion brightened her eyes and warmed her cheeks, making her look quite
attractive. It was a pity that such emotions were considered unfeminine—Miss
Osmond’s true beauty would never be allowed to be seen in polite society. She’d
likely spend much of her time this Season as a wallflower.

“I do not believe that is the most prudent topic to discuss,
my dear,” he whispered quietly in her ear, wanting to save her from possible
embarrassment if her mother caught wind of her speech.

She blinked at the reprimand and nodded. “Of course, my
lord. My mouth does tend to run away with itself. Perhaps… the music, since you
spoke of it.”

James wished he had not. It was too bad the girl cared
nothing for society’s rules or he would silence her with a reminder that
conversations should not be held on the dance floor. Instead, he offered little
of his own opinion, asking her, “What of the music?”

“Why, the utter pull of it! I’ve never heard such wondrous
music in my life. I do imagine that Sir Cade’s money was well spent on the
musicians.”

James nodded in agreement. “And which of the instruments do
you prefer?” he asked softly, hoping she would pick the right one.

She did as he hoped. “I must say that I’m quite in love with
the violin. I attempted to play it once and could wrench only the most
bothersome sounds out of it. I’m jealous of that man’s talent with it.”

James turned to look at the violinist again. The man’s
passion for his music sent frissons of desire through James, and he had to look
away. He covered his interest with a nonchalant, “He is quite good.”

“He’s more than good. He’s amazing. Miss Edward told me that
he’s been with Sir Cade’s estate since before she was born, and that her father
has not had him play at a ball in fifteen years. She believes it was because
her father was saving him for her coming out ball. He has played for private
parties though. He played Vivaldi’s Spring at a high tea Miss Edward put on
this winter and it was easily the best music I’ve heard in ages.”

Miss Osmond gave a put upon sigh. “My mother is glaring at
me for talking too much. Nevertheless, it’s her fault I am the way I am. She
thought that dragging me to the theatre and orchestra would make me a clever
but docile wife. She never realized that my intelligence would only tempt me to
learn more.” Her eyes glittered. “You mustn’t tell anyone, but I’ve even been
to a women’s suffrage meeting!”

James laughed, though nowhere near as loudly as Miss Osmond
had earlier. The song ended and he walked her slowly back to where her mother
stood glowering. “I won’t tell. Do try to temper your tongue though. Your
mother would have the vapors if she knew what we’d spoken of.”

She frowned but bit back a response as he returned her to
her mother. He bowed deeply and she offered him a curtsy in return. “Thank you
for the dance, Miss Osmond.”

“Likewise. If it pleases you, do let us dance again. I’d like
to continue our conversation.” The sparkle in her eyes told James that she knew
she was not supposed to be so forward as to ask a man for another dance and
that she had done it to irritate her mother.

James suppressed a grin and backed away as Lady Catherine
began to berate her daughter for her lack of manners. He had enjoyed their time
together, but he would not dance with her again that night. He dare not give
her nor her mother the idea that he might be interested in courting her.
Instead, he made his way around the room, dancing with as many women as he
could, especially widows and spinsters. He didn’t learn anything else about the
violinist, as the other women he danced with did not attempt to converse with
him beyond a few niceties.