ENEMY MINE by Nia Farrell appears in the
WITH LOVE FROM NEW ORLEANS ANTHOLOGY
(Voyages of the Heart #2)
by Alyssa Drake, Amy Allen, Annalise Alexis, Ashlee Shades, Autumn Sand, Bella Emy, Brian Miller, Carrie Humphrey, Jade Royal, Jas T. Ward, Lilly Black, Katherine L.E. White, Maggie Adams, Maria Vickers, Natalie-Nicole Bates, Nia Farrell, Patricia D. Eddy, Roux Cantrell, Sandra R. Neeley, and Tamsen Schultz
Release Date May 30, 2019
Enemy Mine by Nia Farrell (length 11,671 words)
It’s been a horrible day for Ophelia Delacroix in Union-occupied New Orleans. Orphaned, destitute, and responsible for a younger sister and their servant, she’s just been offered a job at an upscale bordello that requires wearing a wig and being called “Pearl.” Accosted as she leaves her interview, she is saved by Federal Cavalry officer Henry Sharp, who offers to escort her safely home.
Ophelia does not correct the second lieutenant’s belief that she is already a high-class prostitute working for Madame Beauvais. That will be true enough tomorrow. Tonight, though, she has a choice and agrees to let Henry buy her—plus extras—for the night. She has no idea what the dominant officer will ask of her.
They’ll learn each other’s secrets soon enough.
War makes strange bedfellows. Henry’s not complaining. This officer is about to discover that his very ungentlemanly offer has bought him much more than he bargained for.
Enemy Mine is the past life of the ghost in Slow Burn by Nia Farrell (appearing in the Dominated by Desire BDSM anthology http://mybook.to/DBD). An erotic historical BDSM romance written for Ages 18+.
Enemy Mine excerpt:
Ophelia unlocked her front door and opened it wide. Sally had lit a betty lamp and left it in the foyer. The smell of burning pot liquor reminded her that she couldn’t afford candles or kerosene. Poverty served to steel her resolve.
Beggars can’t be choosers.
“Come in,” she said blithely. Stepping inside with his coat still around her shoulders, she gave him no choice but to follow. She breathed a little easier when he took off his hat and hung it on the hall tree by the entrance. Surely he wouldn’t have done that if he wasn’t intending to stay. “May I offer you something to drink? Water? Whiskey? Wine?”
They had nothing as fancy as fresh lemonade, but she was willing to break out her late father’s last bottle of anything if that’s what Henry wanted.
He smiled softly. “No, thank you.” His gaze fell on her father’s portrait. Taken in his uniform, it was draped in the black crepe of mourning.
Henry looked at his hat, probably questioning the wisdom of entering a Confederate household. “I should get going,” he murmured. “I need to write a full report on tonight. Once again, I apologize for the indignities that you suffered.”
Ophelia wrapped her arms around herself and breathed deeply, immersing herself in Henry’s scent. Reluctantly, she shrugged off his frock coat. Gripping it by the back of the collar, she held it out in silent offering.
He looked at it for a long, telling moment.
When he reached for it, she was slow in letting go.
“Stay,” she whispered.
He sliced a concerned glance at the stairs.
“They’re asleep,” she assured him. “My sister and our maid. We’re all that’s left.”
She felt her throat grow tight with tears and swallowed her grief for everyone that she’d loved and lost. Her parents. Her brothers.
Henry pulled on his coat, a long, slow tug that made her lean so far into him, it felt like she was falling.
“I’m not like him,” he murmured.
No, he was night-and-day different from Jefferson. Her fiancé had been a college-educated scholar and an armchair historian. He taught rhetoric and believed in the right of states to choose their destiny. He’d supported secession and had answered the call to arms.
He’d died of cholera without ever seeing a battle.
Henry had fought his way here. Fort Donaldson. Shiloh. Vicksburg. Raymond. When Farragut’s fleet had slipped past New Orleans and the Confederate troops had withdrawn, there was nothing left to stop the Federal advance but women, children, and men who were too rich, ill, or old to fight.
New Orleans had fallen without a shot.
“How much for the night?”
His question was another reminder of how very different Henry was from Jefferson. Her fiancé had finally kissed her cheek when he’d bid her adieu and boarded the train with his men.
Henry would do more than kiss her.