“For one thing, he was terribly handsome. His pale hair was the color of fresh butter, his eyes the hue of the sky on a bright afternoon. His features were strong, the cleft chin firm; classic princely features. But there was more to him, something in his bearing that bespoke a high-born status. Just like a prince, she thought. She had been distantly in love with him since their first meeting. She sat back and took a sip of wine. Sure, he was probably three hundred years old, but what's age got ...to do with it? He sure as heck didn't look three hundred years old. More likely thirty-five. Forty at the most. It was magic, of course. “Like the wine?” Trent asked, settling into an armchair across from the sofa. “It's wonderful,” Sheila said. “What is it?" “It's a special California vintage cabernet, limited issue. I have some friends in the wine business out there." “It's great." Trent pivoted in his chair. “Uh ... Snowclaw? You sure you won't have anything?" “Thanks,” Snowclaw said, turning away from a view of the woods.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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