Encore! (Tudor Saga Book 1) Read online

  Encore!

  Tudor Saga

  Book 1

  By

  Jamie Salisbury

  Copyright © 2014 Jamie Salisbury

  All Rights Reserved

  All rights reserved. Without reserving the rights under copyright, reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or any other means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  All names, characters places and incidents in this story are fiction and figments of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanically without permission in writing from the author or publisher.

  The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: Range Rover, Julliard, Nurofen, Stradiverius, Hasselblad.

  Cover Design by Anya Kelleye Designs

  Editing by Red Line Editing

  Formatting by Lauralynn Elliott

  Acknowledgements

  There are so many people I have to thank. People I want to thank for the support, kind words, advice, hand-holding, enthusiasm and love. Without it, Encore! would simply still be an idea on paper and in my head.

  People are forever asking me how I come up with the ideas for my books. Encore! is the product of two projects I had started. One of the two was about Mary for a book in the Tudor Dynasty series. I was also working on another book with a hero similar to Daniel. Cue the music - idea hits - Daniel and Mary-their passion- they would be perfect together. And, Encore! was born.

  First and foremost I have to thank Mack, to whom this book is dedicated. I only wish you were here to see the final version, but somehow I know you've already read it a thousand times. Not a day goes by I don't think of you. Liam, for your silent support and encouragement on all my projects, writing or others, and for all the wonderful places you've opened my eyes to. Anya Kelleye of Anya Kelleye Designs for another fantastic cover and for seeing my vision for this book and series and bringing it to life, and also listening to all my being me when no one else was. Kim of Red Line Editing for polishing up the raw manuscript. An editor is such a vital part of the writing process, and Kim is a gem. Lauralynn Elliott for formatting.

  I'd also like to thank David, Debbie, Donnie, David, Fred, Johnny, Mardi, Lisa, Lana, Kim, Mike, Greg, Paul, Judy, Renee. If I left anyone out, let me know. I'll catch you in book 2! I also want to send a shout out to the Interlake SOS! You know who you are!

  Finally to all readers. . .Thanks! You're the best!

  If music be the food of love, play on.

  -William Shakespeare-

  London - Present Day

  I love London. I love everything about it especially at night, when that certain mood hits me, and I have to get out and prowl the clubs. The nightlife and music scene are so exciting. Music is always in motion. New genres and styles mix and match every single day.

  London has always been my inspiration to look for something new and exciting and to always, always push boundaries. In London, I always feel and live my music. The only city that comes close is New York, but that's another story entirely.

  Whenever I feel this certain mood beginning to emerge from me, all I do is place a call. I'm guaranteed a spot in one of several clubs.

  It was there one night when I was up on stage in my black latex "cat suit"…my gimmick, my platform a mask, a Venetian masque. Always in one of three colors, purple, hot pink or green. I was an entirely different person as I sang my gut out and played my violin. Yeah you heard me right - violin. That night he stood at the edge of the stage, looking up at me, with a mischievous grin on his face. Mr. Violin Virtuoso himself, Daniel Kennedy. I had noticed him at the club a time or two before.

  We had studied together in New York years ago. Only now, I could tell he was second guessing who I really was. Who is this woman who can make a violin weep, though not nearly as well as I can. She can, none the less, make the angels shed tears.

  About half way through my set, I happened to glance down at this dangerously striking man and noticed he was still smiling. He raised his drink. Was it in a mock salute, or was it more? I was too into what I was doing to tell, much less care.

  I never, ever mingled with the crowd after a show. Not that I wouldn't love to every now and then. No, I was afraid some young drunk jerk would pull off my mask, exposing my identity to the world. Then Archangel would be no more.

  My requirements for playing in the clubs was a cab ride home and for the owner to escort me to the waiting cab, just in case. Other than that, I played for free. Self promotion at its best.

  I was putting my violin away when I heard someone behind me. I immediately turned to see who it was. And Daniel Kennedy stood not three feet from me. In my personal space, again.

  "Where did you learn to play?" he asked.

  "Around," I replied smugly.

  "Hmmm, mysterious. I like that. Could I interest you in a drink Ms. Archangel?"

  "Thank you, but no. I make it a rule to never go out for drinks with clubbers."

  "Ah, is that what I am?"

  "Aren't you?"

  The club owner appeared out of the hallway. "Cab's here. You ready, babe?"

  I noted Daniel's grimace at the familiarity Jake had used with me. "Yeah, almost," I replied.

  "Well, Mr. Kennedy, I look forward to seeing you brighten up my audience again soon." I smiled and turned toward the hall.

  "Who are you?"

  "Archangel, kind sir." Oh, he was fun.

  "No, really, who are you? I feel we've met before."

  "Oh, I bet you say that to all the girl's you try to pick up." I teased, but he wasn't deterred.

  "What sort of name is Archangel, sweet?"

  "What sort of name is Kennedy?" I shot back. "I thought you were French. Kennedy is anything but French."

  "My mother's maiden name, if you must know. My father's name is much too hard for English speaking fans."

  "Scottish or Irish Kennedy's?" I taunted walking down the hall and towards the back door, my cab, and freedom from this inquisitive and delicious man.

  "Scottish, why?"

  "Just curious, that's all."

  As I reached the door Jake was holding open, I turned and looked down the hall. Daniel had stopped, his arms folded over his chest, his legs wide apart. He was quite a handsome thing with all his bling, tight jeans, T-shirt, and jacket. His face was rough with scruff. And that hair! My God what woman wouldn't die for a head of luscious hair like that?

  Rather than continue drooling, I blew a crimson-stained kiss in his direction. "This is for you, Mr. Daniel Kennedy."

  He played along, pretending to catch my kiss in his hand. He closed his hand and placed it over his heart. His smile made my body tingle in places-well in places that it hadn't tingled in quite a long time.

  Raising my arm as high as it would go, I waved then pivoted on the ball of my foot. "Until next time, Mr. Daniel Kennedy. Good night."

  Chapter One

  London - Six Months Later

  They say that we're all born with some special talent. At the same time, these same wise folks say our future is pre-ordained. In other words, no matter what we do, our lives have already been chosen for us. Our career choices, our place in society, and even our mates-all chosen for us. We're just along for the ride. What they neglected to tell us is just how bumpy the ride could be. Don
't let anyone tell you that being part of a famous family is fun, either. Nope, don't be fooled by the glitz and glamour because underneath all the trappings is just a regular family. Unless of course you grew up in a dynasty like the Kennedy's, but that's different. I'm talking about the self-made celebrity, and there seems to be a lot more of them around than what the world needs.

  How do I know? I grew up in one. Not just one of my brothers made a name for themselves in the music industry, all three of them did. Sort of like the Kardashian family, only a lot less slutty.

  Two of my brothers, took their image to one extreme, why just by looking at them you'd think they'd grown up in Jacksonville Florida with those Skynyrd boys! The only thing they lacked was the southern accent.

  Then there was the youngest of the three. While still a rocker, he took his music and career in an entirely different direction. He was after all the one with the real talent. He was so diverse that he toyed with the idea of becoming a classical pianist, but the lure of the bright lights and loose women, along with a little help from the other two took him down a path similar to theirs.

  Being a typical sister, and I might add, just as equally talented, I wanted nothing more than to join them. But I was a girl, their sister, and none of them wanted to have to watch after me in case one of those crude boys tried to get too close, and that certainly wasn't going to happen. Then there was the fact that I played violin and piano. Not exactly rock and roll party favors.

  I begged my parents to let me try out for one of the performing arts universities, but they were so entrenched with my brothers' careers they never took me seriously - or heard me. I was a girl, I would graduate high school, perhaps go to a small college, get married, have kids. How my sister was ever comfortable with this is beyond me. Gag me with a spoon, please!

  So I left Seattle! Right when my brother's careers were beginning to skyrocket. I left without a word and never looked back. Sour grapes? Perhaps a little, but more than anything I just wanted to be equally recognized for the gifts I had.

  I headed for New York City. I'd secretly put in my application for Julliard and had been accepted on a grant. I spent the next four years there honing my skills.

  My career and life shifted to London where for a time I'd had a part-time job with one of the foo-foo la-la orchestras. I turned to photography as a way to pay the rent. Playing third or fourth chair certainly wouldn't pay the bills. Especially when it wasn't a full time gig, plus I was not entirely convinced the hothouse bubble of classical music was the path I wanted my musical career to continue down.

  So fast forward several years. I'm still in London, working along-side a pretty well known photographer. She allows me to exhibit my work out of her small studio as well as take on clients. Oh yeah, did I mention she's my step-sister? Only she doesn't know it. Funny thing, being away, I'd always kept myself in the loop as far as what my brothers were up to, because deep down inside I was proud of their successes. I wasn't completely in hiding, but I wasn't posting all over London on billboards and the like. But back to my step-sister - my father died unexpectedly and somehow her famous dad and my mom hooked up and married. Isn't life strange?

  I made it home for my father's wake, in disguise. I owed it to my father to be there. I just didn't want anyone else knowing I was in attendance. Well, there was one person, besides my dad who knew I was in attendance, my dad's sister, Lucy. Lucy is my dad’s younger sister who lives in Oxford. She's known all along where I was, helping me when I needed help. Lucy never ratted me out. Once a promising pianist herself, she of all people, understood exactly the obstacles I was up against. Yeah Lucy was my staunchest supporter.

  That was when I was sure I had made the right decision. From what I had been able to pick up at the wake my family had turned into a soap opera, each of my brothers coming with their own melodrama.

  Yeah, so you still want to be a celebrity or part of a celebrity's family?

  ****

  I have managed to live quietly all these years in London or New York. I've dated numerous men. Stockbrokers, a software developer, even one who was part of the nobility. Something inside me always kept me from getting too attached, too involved. I don't know if I was afraid of having to open up to someone and explain the whole bloody mess or what.

  So here I am - going over images from a photo shoot the day before when I hear the front door bell chime. Looking up I see the most perfect man, hell the most beautiful man I had laid eyes on in - oh hell I don't know - years perhaps. Oh h-e-l-l! It was him!

  "Mary Stuart?" He asked as the door shut behind him. The sunlight caught his light brown hair as he stepped inside. His hair was long, though pulled up in some sort of knot in the back. The rest was pulled away from his face, showing off just how handsome he really was. He had the most expressive brown eyes I think I'd ever seen on a man, and that smile would melt your heart.

  "That'd be me," I cockily replied. "Mary Stuart at your service. And you would be?"

  "Daniel. Daniel Kennedy." His brown eyes bore through me, but somehow didn't make me uncomfortable. "Forgive me for staring, but you look familiar."

  "I was just about to say the same thing. Why don't you tell me what I can do for you and perhaps it'll come to one of us." Yeah I could think of a few things I'd like to do with this man and none of it had to do with taking his picture either.

  "I saw some of your work at a gallery and thought you do amazing work. I'm looking for someone to shoot new images for me, and I think you may be that person."

  His voice was soft. The cadence in the manner in which he spoke entranced me. He had a hint of an underlying accent, which I'd always found sexy. His voice, his mannerisms...

  "Could I get you something to drink, Daniel? A coffee or some tea? I even have water if you'd like. We can sit down and you can tell me exactly what you're looking for." I pointed to a small floral sofa and chair in a corner of the studio.

  "Water would be fine."

  "I'll be right back. Feel free to look around."

  I turned and walked towards the back room where we kept the refrigerator. I opened the door and pulled out two waters and returned to the gallery. Suck it up! He has no idea it was you he's seen at the clubs. Just act as though you're both trying to figure out where you know each other from.

  Daniel, mister tall, dark and definitely handsome, not to mention trouble, was standing in front of a grouping of photos I had taken of an elderly duchess on her eightieth birthday. Hearing my footsteps, he turned and proceeded towards the sofa.

  I paused in front of him and handed him the bottle of cold water before proceeding to the sofa where I sat across from him. "Tell me something about yourself Daniel. What you do for a living, that sort of thing." I lied.

  As I waited for his reply I couldn't help but make note of the heavy silver rings he wore. I instantly recognized one as a skull. He certainly didn't look the part of a Goth. He was dressed nicely enough in a pair of form fitting black jeans, some sort of graphic t-shirt underneath a dark grey pin stripe jacket. He popped the cap off the bottle and took a long swig before closing it again and setting the bottle on the floor.

  "I am a violinist…" he began before I jumped in and broke his train of thought.

  "Julliard!" I exclaimed. "That's where I know you from." I hated playing these games with him, but for now it was necessary.

  He stared intently at me for a moment. "You went to Julliard? Small world isn't it? What instrument do you play?"

  "Violin, piano too."

  "Hmmm…do you perform still? Because I know I've seen you somewhere since school. There's something familiar…"

  "Rarely, at least publicly. I sometimes play for one of the smaller orchestras, but it's only when they call me."

  It suddenly dawned on me exactly who he was. Yes, I knew who he was while playing at the clubs as Archangel. He was known worldwide. But our Julliard days were vague. We'd had classes at Julliard, even hung around some. Not that I'd expect him to remember. He wa
s, and still is, on an entirely different plane from all other performers.

  "At least one of us has made good on that expensive education."

  "It was a unique experience," he replied, cocking his head to one side. "If you are the Mary I'm remembering, you played quite well. I always felt you had trouble letting your passion out, as though something was holding you back."

  "You picked up on that? Well, as you can see, this," I pointed to the walls, "has consumed me quite by accident, and this is what pays the bills."

  "Something you're obviously very good at."

  "Thank you. Would you like to tell me what you're after in these new images you want? I am thinking dramatic…"

  So we spent the next hour or two discussing his upcoming CD and tour along with his visions of what he wanted his images to project. I furiously jotted down ideas, mine and his, in my notebook as he spoke. Daniel was quite focused in every aspect of his career, though he confided in me that the music was his favorite part, and the most important.

  He looked down at the expensive watch on his wrist and then at me. "I must be going. I have another appointment. Thank you for your time Mary."

  "I enjoyed it, Daniel. Let me give you my card and when you're ready, call me and we'll work something out. I know I can work around whatever you have going on." I handed him one of my business cards. He peered at it intently before passing it back to me.

  "Would you mind putting your cell phone number on the back? That will make it easier for me to get in touch with you."

  I jotted my cell number down on the back of my card and handed it back to him. I peered up at him and noticed his eyes. They appeared almost full of mischief.

  "If you'd do me the same courtesy I could perhaps send you some ideas later."

  "Yes of course." I reached over and picked up my small notebook and jotted his number down on a page of its own, with his name scrawled beneath it. "I'd like that. What I'd like even more is if we could perhaps have dinner some time. I would love to catch up with you."