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Victoria's Visions

Two indomitable heroes who find love before they’re looking for it, and must overcome all odds to gain that special love.
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How can Vicky reconcile the two conflicting visions that haunt her every thought? In one, she and Cabot are walking on a beautiful shore, hand in hand and happy. In the other, he is weeping beside her bedside. They can’t both be true, can they?

Vicky is deeply in love with this handsome visitor from the States, but despite his obvious desire for her, Cabot leaves her. Cabot is as devastated as Vicky, but feels obligated to marry the girl who tricked him into a proposal. Realizing he can never love anyone but Vicky, he leaves to straighten out his life. Vicky, a blue-ribbon cook, does little but make delicious meals for her family, and mourn Cabot’s loss.

Her two conflicting visions haunt Vicky. Mages’ visions are always true, but she can’t reconcile hers. How can they both be her destiny?

Vicky saves several small animals with her mage abilities, but doing so earns the enmity of three vicious louts. When they capture Vicky and her friend Linnet with rape in mind, she fears she can’t save herself without endangering Linnet.

Will her mage abilities be enough? Can Cabot find her in time to help her? Or is the dire second vision destined to come true as she loses everything she longs for?

Title Victoria's Visions
Series Song of the Mages
Author Jean Hart Stewart
Genre Romantic Historical
Release December 20, 2016
Designer DKS Designs
Length 201 pages
ISBN 978-1-77127-893-5
Price $4.99
Tags Two brothers in love, a mage’s visions, two opposing visions, gourmet cook, Lady of the Lake, water magic, unsolvable conflict, repulsive villains.

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It wasn’t so much being surrounded by beauty, talent, and aristocracy stunning him. More the feeling of closeness, a supportive love they all felt for one another, and the ease with which they displayed their affection. Certainly not the reserved British attitude he’d been led to expect. His mother would be astonished and doubtless dismayed. Proper Bostonians were not so open in their affections. Damien Cabot Manning. He wondered how much, if at all, he resembled his British father and the earl he was named after. And how much like his mother’s side of the family, the detached and proud Cabots? He hoped it was the Cabots. Right now he wanted nothing to do with the warm nature of his father.

Swallowing his thoughts, he turned to the Earl of Sinclair, who eagerly listened as he turned the conversation to Cabot’s father.

“He’s coming down in two days, but I’m sure he’s already told you.”

Damien responded with a joyous smile. “Even better, Cabot, he telephoned. He said you didn’t take to London so he sent you ahead. He’s coming tomorrow. I truly can’t explain how good it will be to see your father. Raphael and Debora will be coming tomorrow too. I’m sure you know how Rafe and I and Jason were always close. I’ve never lost an iota of affection for either of them. The kind of friends we were and are can never be replaced.”

Cabot smiled. “Now I understand more how my brother and I were named. I’ve always been told my father picked one name and my mother the other. My brother is Raphael Winthrop, as you doubtless know. Winthrop was my grandmother’s name. We call him Thorpe, a name he gave himself when he first learned to speak.”

Cabot wondered how much significance could be given to the fact he and his brother were both called by the family names they’d been given, and not by the names of their father’s exceptional friends. Maybe a lot, or maybe it meant nothing. Perhaps it was just a normal way for his mother to enhance her ties to New England.

The earl only smiled. He kept up innocuous talk as he steered Cabot to the dining room. A lovely room, as he imagined all the rooms were at Tregaron. This one glowed green and yellow, a cheerful blend of colors bringing spring flowers to mind. Daffodils on a grassy bank. And there they were, large bunches of daffodils clustered in cloisonné vases scattered around the room and adding their delicate scent. The furniture, definitely antique and beautiful, was still large enough for the big men in the family and exuded comfort. Large, soft cushions were everywhere, all in the colors of spring. Airy and spacious, this was yet another room making him feel welcomed and at ease.

Dinner evolved into a festive affair, with the whole clan gathered and the children all shooed upstairs to their nurses or to play games. The offspring, one and all, were as attractive as their parents. But then what would one expect but near-perfection in the grandchildren of the amazingly impressive Earl of Sinclair?

The food proved to be simply delicious. Cabot didn’t think it wise to convey his surprise, but somehow he’d expected the overcooked meat and vegetables he’d found in so many London restaurants. He simply tucked in and enjoyed.

Suddenly Damien laughed. “I’m not really reading your mind, Cabot, it’s just that your thoughts are so loud. You can credit the excellent food to Vicky. She’s just back from a cooking school in Switzerland. I think she attended out of rebellion against the food in her finishing school there. She says she’s found her vocation. She insisted on staying on an extra year and becoming a full-fledged chef. We’re the ones to benefit, don’t you think? At least until she sets up her own restaurant.”

Cabot knew well he’d reddened. “The whole meal is superb, sir. I can’t remember one I’ve enjoyed more. I should have known it would be. The enticing smells coming from the kitchen are wonderful.”

“And I think I’ve embarrassed you, Cabot. I’ll tune down my prescient feelings. I will warn you to save room for a spectacular dessert, though. Vicky made gâteau à la crème d’orange to celebrate your arrival. It’s one of my favorites, and I hope it’s one of yours. If not, it soon will be.”

“Victoria made dessert? Surely there hasn’t been enough time. She’d been showing me around the estate since she brought me here.”

Just then Victoria entered, carrying a huge tray with three gorgeous cakes. All were decorated with slices of oranges and candied green leaves, the beauty of the creation enough to make a monk’s mouth water.

“Don’t worry, Papa.” She set the tray in front of Damien. “I made extra cakes for both us and the servants.”

Cabot looked so startled Damien laughed. “You’re with a bunch of mages, Cabot. We all knew you were coming today, although you arrived earlier in the day than I’d expected. Vicky made these yesterday. With so much icing, she knew they’d stay fresh.”

Cabot still looked bewildered. “But I didn’t know until this morning I could break free and come.”

Nobody said a word, although Damien smiled just a little as he cut the first cake and offered Toria her dessert.







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