A Fiery Lass

By Virginia Aird

"I don't know about it being romantic, but the view here is very much to my liking."

"Yes, I agree; the view is excellent." His eyes rested on my semi-exposed breasts.

And so began our hushed, yet explosive encounter.

Fiery, self-absorbed Chanticleer Widden is about to meet her match. Let the heated tension begin!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Virginia Aird
• Release date: Nov 12, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301863082

Virginia Aird

Dear Reader, Thank you for sharing in the excitement of my novels! I am a church choir singer, wife and mother of two. To acquire a real "taste" of my literary essence, here is my recipe for a delicious read: - 1 strong,sensitive female - 1 sensitive,strong male -Add in several heaping spoonfuls of full-bodied love -Season throughout with salty characters -Pepper with good and evil -Blend above ingredients together--along with a hefty sprinkling of sensuality and sweetness -Stir in chunks of raw emotion -Keep it juicy -Steam and serve!

Book preview

A Fiery Lass

By Virginia Aird

Copyright 2012 Virginia Aird

Smashwords Edition

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Chapter I

I was born on a beautiful sunlit morning in May 1840. I was christened Chanticleer Widden. It was my mother who suggested that I be named Chanticleer: I think that our daughter should have a French name befitting her mother’s ancestry.

And so I was given the moniker Chanticleer, which from the French means chanter, to sing and cler, clear was the name of the cock in the medieval tale, Reynard the Fox.

As you can well imagine with a name as unusual as mine, I was oftentimes mocked by my peers:Look who’s coming, why it’s that stupid red-headed rooster. Cock-a-doodle doo!

It was at moments like this that I wanted to shrink off the face of the earth and never be seen or heard from again.

Oh shut your foul mouths! I shouted back on one of many tormented occasions. Just who do you think you are making fun of someone like me? Why I’m a thousand times better than the whole lot of you!

I lifted my head proudly and proceeded home with what little dignity I could muster. Shortly afterwards, I met with a very close friend of mine, Tom Bridgewood.

Tom approached me openly. The girls are giving you a difficult time again?

Seeing me on the verge of tears, he added comfortingly, You mustn’t let them bother you; they’re just buggers that is all. Why, anyone who really knows you couldn’t help but love you.

He gave me one of his warm smiles, which seemed to light up his entire prepubescent face.

Yes, I guess there was truth in what everyone said. Tom Bridgewood was more than just a little bit overawed with me. Mother often commented that I shouldn’t lead him on so much, but the funny thing was that I did nothing whatsoever to make him enamored of me. Tom was a very good friend and nothing more. Besides, I just wasn’t interested at this stage in my development, about members of the opposite sex.

I gave Tom a hurried smile and announced that I must be getting along now as dinner must surely be waiting.

That happened several weeks ago. Since then I have fought many more battles.

One day when I could absolutely not bear this ongoing degradation any longer, I approached my mother with tear-stained eyes. Oh, why did you ever burden me with such a hateful name? I am the laughingstock of London Square!

She took my tear-swollen face in her hands and stroked my hair consolingly. You must not cry baby; they are merely jealous of your obvious beauty and that of your name. You have strikingly gorgeous red hair, just like that of a cock’s.

She ran her fingers caressingly through the fire-lit tresses of my hair.

But mother, I whined, must I go through my entire life with a name that brings me nothing but unhappiness and jeers from my friends?

It was at this pivotal moment that I learned my first real lesson of life. Mother began, Those who mock you are never to be called friends, and you must never consider them as such. They are envious, malicious people who pretend to be your friends and then stab you the moment your back is turned .You didn’t mention whether these supposed friends are boys or girls. I know they are girls, because they cannot help being jealous of one whose mere presence outshines them. Yes, even at the age of twelve, you have the beginnings of what are rare and unusual qualities found in an ordinary woman. All men will be your slaves and all women your potential enemies; of this I am sure.

She continued, There is one last thing that you must remember, and that is that Chanticleer means to sing; and that is just what I felt like doing the first time I laid eyes on you. You have brought me nothing but laughter and joy, and if for this reason only, you should be proud of your name.

From that point on, I looked upon my title in a new light. It was no longer a hideous, shameful name, but one in which I was proud and took a newfound delight in. I was my mother’s pride and joy, and that was all that mattered.

My mother and I were almost always together, whether we were out playing team cricket, or just sitting around having mother-to-daughter talks. I must admit that it was the latter that I delighted in. Just being near her was a wonderful feeling, one which could be compared to nothing else. We became so close that I think father was more than a little bit jealous.

One night I overheard him complain to mother. Really Eugenia, the way the two of you carry on makes one think that you should form a mutual admiration society! Do you really think it is natural or healthy to continue this relationship? I think that Chanti should play with other children and not merely with her mother.

Poor father! He really was jealous. I was an only child, and so I received all of mother’s attention. I guess I was overly spoiled. I not only garnered all of the attention, but I had a surfeit of material things as well. But after all, it wasn’t my fault that I came from a wealthy family and had everything and more at my fingertips.

Our maid, Fanny, was overheard commenting more than once, Blimey, if she ain’t an uppity little thing that she is. She thinks she’s better than everybody else!

I have to admit that I really was conceited, what with having my own way all the time and my mother constantly reminding me of my beauty. But truthfully, I really didn’t think that I was very pretty at all. In fact, one day I took a really good look at myself in the