Winter's Tale

By Emma Holly

Something sexy is afoot at Rackham’s School for Young Ladies.

Half-faerie, half-elf Hans broke the heart of the wrong princess. Cursed to live as a statue at a school for human girls, only true love—and true bravery—can free him.

December never met a rule she didn’t want to break, as the numerous institutions that expelled her can attest. Bravery she can handle. Love she’s less sure about, especially if it involves believing in fairytales.

A kiss seems the last thing these lonely souls would share, until one night in the cemetery where Hans stands trapped, Fate brings stone and flesh together . . .

“One smokin' hot fairy tale.”—In My Humble Opinion

• Language: English
• Publisher: Emma Holly
• Release date: Jan 27, 2013
• ISBN: 9780988894303

Emma Holly

Emma Holly is the award winning, USA Today bestselling author of more than forty romantic books featuring billionaires, genies, faeries and just plain extraordinary folks. She loves the hot stuff, both to read and to write!

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Winter’s Tale

Emma Holly

Digital edition

Copyright 2013 Emma Holly. All rights reserved. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission of the author.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the vendor and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This story is a work of fiction and should be treated as such. It includes sexually explicit content that is only appropriate for adults—and not every adult at that. Those who are offended by more adventurous depictions of sexuality or frank language possibly shouldn’t read it. Literary license has been taken in this book. It is not intended to be a sexual manual. Any resemblance to actual places, events, or persons living or dead is either fictitious or coincidental. That said, the author hopes you enjoy this tale!

eISBN-13: 978-0-9888943-0-3

Discover other exciting Emma Holly titles at www.emmaholly.com

cover photos: Shutterstock—Andreas Gradin; elen studio

Table of Contents

Title Page

Winter’s Tale

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Epilogue

THE GUARDIAN: Chapter 1

About the Author

Other Titles by Emma Holly

Winter’s Tale

Something sexy is afoot at Rackham’s School for Young Ladies

Half-faerie, half-elf Hans broke the heart of the wrong princess. Cursed to live as a statue at a school for human girls, only true love—and true bravery—can free him.

December never met a rule she didn’t want to break, as the numerous institutions that expelled her can attest. Bravery she can handle. Love she’s less sure about, especially if it involves believing in fairytales.

A kiss seems the last thing these lonely souls would share, until one night in the cemetery where Hans stands trapped, Fate brings stone and flesh together . . .

Reviewers rave about Emma’s HIDDEN series

A truly fantastic read! Ms. Holly turns the shape-shifting world on their respective ears! . . . 5 of 5 stars!—badasschicksthatbite.blogspot.com

I don’t know how Emma Holly does it but I hope she keeps on doing it . . . a smoking HOT read and a great story.—In My Humble Opinion (inmho-read.blogspot.com)

"Hidden Talents is the perfect package of supes, romance, mystery and HEA!"

—paperbackdolls.com

Chapter 1

December Worth never met a rule she didn’t want to break. Golden-haired and willful, she was the daughter of old money—as unlike her folks as if a pigeon’s egg had been slipped into a swan’s nest. Behaving as a girl of good breeding ought seemed beyond her capacity. December’s mother claimed she was so much trouble they dared not try for a boy to continue the family name. December suspected the real reason lay in her mother’s fondness for keeping her trim figure.

True to her devilish nature, she expressed this opinion whenever her mother expressed hers.

Not surprisingly, December grew up an only child. Her knack for embarrassing her parents got her shipped off to boarding school. There, more rules had an inevitable effect. By her count, she’d run through eleven institutions by the time she was eighteen.

The twelfth was the direst she’d been to yet. Rackham’s School for Young Ladies was in upstate New York, crouched among the hills above a village called Kingaken. Reputed not to refuse any girl who could pay, Rackham’s was a not-quite-crumbling stone fortress: castellated, towered and prohibitively gated with Victorian era iron.

Behind the repressive walls, fifty-eight souls resided. Four were teachers, six were staff, and one was a headmistress. The odds would have been against these few authorities maintaining order, except that the students—who ranged in age from eight to eighteen—were remarkably spiritless. Her first night there, December failed to convince a single girl to escape the dorm with her. She was informed the headmistress had no liquor cabinet to break into, the sleepy village was too far to reach before morning, and in any case the thick woods that clustered about the school were scary after dark.

Every girl who’d ventured into them had gotten lost and needed to be rescued.

Such stories were unlikely to deter a brave young lady like December. Twenty minutes past Lights Out, she pulled her winter coat over her black-and-blue plaid pajamas and her boots over her bare feet. Breaking into the headmistress’s office was a snap, given its old-timey lock. As was her habit after arriving at a new school, once inside she read the latest additions to her file. Finding them depressing—because, really, could her previous keepers mention nothing beyond her misbehavior?—she left to explore. Illuminated by the burglar’s penlight she’d brought along, the halls resembled scenes cribbed out of Jane Eyre. Heat was not a priority at Rackham. The chilly air caused her breath to gust whitely in front of her.

Nothing living ought to be living here.

Despite the thought, no ghosts flitted out. December crept unmolested down a creaking wood staircase. The door at its base opened into a moonlit yard. There, brown winter grass lay matted beneath a layer of frost, the covering thick enough to crunch under her boot soles. No flowerbeds spruced up the area, in which Rackham’s students took exercise like the virtual prisoners they were. The single noteworthy feature was a small iron gate in the opposite wall.

December switched off her burglar’s light. Accustomed to using caution on forays like this, she glanced up before starting toward the tantalizing portal. The school formed a rectangle around the forlorn yard, which the windows of the girl’s monkish dorm overlooked. Fearing she’d be tattled on if spotted, she stuck close to the wall under them.

The gate she reached was smaller than expected—child sized, really. Loops of chain secured it, but the lock was rusty. She was able to snap its shank by wedging a stick inside. Though December wasn’t tiny, she believed she’d fit through the opening. Feeling like Alice in Wonderland, she bent her five feet five inches and squeezed outside.

A hook in the stones above caught her coat as she did, pulling back its hood and spilling her long flaxen curls down her shoulders. Those curls had been her pride and joy since she was a child, the only thing her mother seemed to like about her. But the loss of the head covering didn’t matter. Finally, she’d found something interesting.

She’d stumbled into a small graveyard—not one currently accepting residents. Planted on rolling ground surrounded by bare-branched trees, the gravestones were worn and white. Most were leaning, weathered by many decades of wind and rain. None of the dates chiseled in the stones were later than 1910. Eustace Diggle said the first she encountered. 1876-1908. Honest husband. Faithful son. His wife Constance—hopefully also honest—lay beside him, succeeded by a row of markers for the Lang family. A marble fox, carved to look as if it slept, curled nose to tail on the resting place of Abigail Justice. Stone ducks waddled over a child called Buster, while a small granite bench invited folks to set a spell with Old Maude. She, evidently, had lived a whole century.

Charmed by the hinted-at histories, December continued on. The longer she walked, the grander the markers grew. The number of plots surprised her. The graveyard hadn’t seemed this large when she stepped into it. She thought about turning back, but some compulsion she couldn’t ignore led her on. Surely something wonderful would appear right ahead. She began to wonder how far right ahead was when, in the cemetery’s apparent center, she came upon a beautiful statue.

The figure was a life-sized naked man on a low pedestal, his form so white the marble he was carved from could have been sugar. The level of detail astonished her. Nails, lashes, the veins that fed each graceful muscle were all there. Whoever the man was, the sculptor had caught him with one hip shot and his head hanging. His hair was thick and slightly shaggy, his lips full and sad. Frost rimed his pale stone torso, feathers of it creating a patchwork over his washboard abs. A fig leaf the size of her hand guarded his male modesty.

No full Monty for you, eh? she murmured, fighting a shiver.

Wondering who he was, she crouched for a better look at the low block of granite on which he stood. When she scraped away the crackling leaves and twigs, she found no name or date. All the inscription said was, For His Cruelty.

Huh. She squinted up the tall body. Set against the dark gray sky, the marble figure appeared to glow. That was impossible of course. Grabbing the statue’s knee for purchase, she pulled to her feet once more.

How sad the face was—and how old-fashioned in its remorse! Did modern men feel guilty for being cruel? The spoiled rich boys she tended to meet through their sisters only minded being accused of it. December stepped onto the pedestal to examine the statue’s features more closely. The stone man was taller than she was: six two or three, she judged.

Someone flattered you, she said into the lowered eyes. Men from your day were short.

She thought they were at least. Who knew when this one had been born or died?

You’re certainly pretty, she added, noting the narrow nose and the clean carved lines of the cheek and jaw. I confess you don’t look cruel to me.

The night wind kicked up, skittering leaves and frost across the graveyard. December became aware of her solitude. If she screamed, it seemed unlikely anyone would hear. The school was far behind her. The woods she’d been warned were scary weren’t more than a stone’s toss away. Though the area wasn’t silent, no sounds of human civilization penetrated the dead’s abode. She felt off balance perched on the pedestal, tense in her muscles inside and out. Without thinking, she curled her fingers around the statue’s impressive upper arms. They were as developed as a gymnast’s—or maybe a swordsman’s. Helpless to resist, she rose onto the balls of her boots, leaning closer to the mysterious snow-white face.

As if they were long-lost puzzle pieces, her lips molded over the full cold mouth.

A thrill ran through her, icy turning hot where rivers of excitement hit her between the legs. The stone mouth fit hers, its lips silky and inviting despite their temperature. The wind seemed to sigh with longing. What would it be like to make love to a man like this? He was so hard, so perfect, so temptingly unable to get away.

In December’s experience, love was a challenge to hang

Reviews for Winter's Tale

[has_bookpusher · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Full review to be posted soon:

Quick thoughts and mini review:

This was a cute and sexy fairytalesque romance set in the Hidden World. I really liked the fairy tale elements with a young girl who fights against the restrictions set up by her family and the schools she is sent to. However the short length of the story while enjoyable and satisfactory, a lot of depth was lost and it felt too breezy with how they fell in love. But overall this was a gun story to while away an afternoon.