So, you're an artist signed up for the Hellcheer Written in the Stars baby bang and you're wondering what to do.
We will ask authors for their relevant info from 2nd August to 9th August. We'll be assembling all of their summaries and other info into slides, which will only be identified with a number.
We will send out a PDF of this slide deck to all artists signed up on Wednesday 12th August. This is to give you a few days to look over all of the entries and choose which ones you might like to make art for.
On Saturday 15th August email us your top three choices or - if you are happy to take on two authors - send us your top five choices.
When these are all in, we'll work on matching up the teams. If a submission is particularly popular, we'll have a random drawing to decide the match.
You'll receive an email letting you know of your pairings and team number. If you have two authors you're partnered with, you'll have two team numbers. These are important for check ins and submissions.
Reach out to your partner! This is when drafts can be shared, as well as more details so the artists can begin to think of a vision and make a start. A communication check in will follow on 29th August.
Hopefully this will help any artists who have signed up or who may be thinking about signing up! Artist and pinch-hitter sign ups are open until this Saturday - find the forms HERE and HERE
And, as always, we're available here or at [email protected] for any questions!
So, you're an author signed up for the Hellcheer Written in the Stars baby bang and you're wondering what to do.
The Claims form will be sent out Sunday 2nd August. It MUST be completed by Sunday 9th August, to be eligible to take part in claims. It's up to you when you complete it - either the day you receive it or just before the deadline.
We will ask for the following information.
Title (or a placeholder, if you don't have one yet)
Rating
Other characters or any other pairings
Five key tags
Warnings (if applicable)
Current word count
Estimated final word count
Summary (we'll tell you more about this in another post)
As well as a few other questions about what you might like to see as art etc.
We will also ask for a PDF of what you have so far - this includes whatever outline you have.
Submit and wait! We'll send out the slide deck to the artists a few days before the claims themselves. This is to give them time to look over every submission and pick which ones they'd like to make art for.
When we have all of the claims in, we'll start matching people up. You'll receive an email letting you know of your partner and how to get in touch! You will be assigned a team number - this is important for submissions and check ins.
There will be a communication check on 29 August to make sure everyone has spoken to their event partners.
The artist guide will be posted later this weekend and the guide to summaries will be out next week!
Hey love! Hope you're not too busy with 4th of July prep work.
For the growing closer prompts "you look like you haven't slept." pretty please.
Take care 😘
"you look like you haven't slept"
"Do you have anything, maybe.... stronger?"
He'd sold Chrissy Cunningham weed two weeks ago.
There was some big ball-fondler-slash-cheerleader camping trip planned over a weekend at the beginning of March, so a number of cute girls in tight clothes came to him at his designated dealing spot, trying to act all coquettish to get a discount outta him.
It wasn't the first time. Certainly wouldn't be the last. And he wasn't weak enough to fall for it.
Usually.
Then Chrissy left him a note, and her actual, sincere interest in just talking to him had him handing her an ounce for basically pocket change. And, alright, sue him, maybe it had something to do with the fact that it was Chrissy Cunningham. He wasn't about to psychoanalyze himself to figure out why the queen of Hawkins High was more worthy than any other green-clad miniskirt, however.
(It was 'cause he, y'know, liked her, but fuck him if he ever admitted that bullshit aloud.)
What surprised him most was how unusual Chrissy's ask was. In all the years they'd shared within Hawkins borders, she had never once reached out with hope of obtaining some under-the-counter pharmaceuticals. And, even as he'd thrown himself in the dirt just to make her laugh and offered her a price that would barely put him in the green for her sale, he figured this was a one-and-done deal.
So, lo and behold, a mere thirteen-and-a-half days later, as they were steamrolling their way toward spring break, another pink slip of paper fluttered out from between the slats of his locker with handwriting he couldn't admit he recognized. To say he was shocked would be an understatement.
And now, here they were. Sitting across from one another. Eddie preparing to offer her yet another steal of a price on Mary Jane, only to be told that Chrissy potentially wanted to dip her toes into something even more illicit.
"Uh," Eddie said, speaking before he could take a half-second to think about her request. "I think I have some Special K back--"
"Can I try that?" she asked, clearly without understanding or caring what Special K even was. She looked at him, chin tilted down so the blue of her eyes was disrupted by long, dark lashes. "Please?"
"I-I mean," he stammered, extremely suavely, thank you very much, "I dunno, Cunningham. It's not, y'know, for the faint of heart. Or newbies to the genre, like one such as yourself seems to be."
Drumming his knuckles on the tabletop, he tilted his head as he took her in. Having hardly had a chance to even greet her before she asked him for capital D-Drugs, he hadn't really had an opportunity to actually look at her.
She looked... not so great.
Thin. Weary. Atlas, weighed down by the earth on her narrow shoulders.
The thing with Chrissy was that she always kinda sparkled. Like, full-on glitter and stardust with every smile she tossed carelessly in any given direction.
Sometimes at him. Typically not.
Even though there was always something there, just beneath the surface - some unidentifiable strain around her eyes, some sadness in the twist of her lips when she thought no one was looking - she always managed to shine like she'd climbed out of her mother's womb and stepped directly into the sun's most favored ray.
That glow was entirely absent right now. As bare as the branches swaying above them had been just a couple months ago. So desolate and broken, it was hard to tell if there was anything salvageable in the decay. Any green hidden beneath the muted bark now swaddled around her.
"Please?" she asked again, though her shoulders deflated a little in her plea. Like she was expecting him to tell her no. Preparing herself for the disappointment.
And, alright, listen: Eddie was a lot of things, yeah? But a purveyor of dissatisfaction he was not.
Not with her.
"It's not here," he replied, as gently as he could. "But, uh. I could-- After Hellfire, I could run home, I guess, or bring it to you tomorrow--"
"Can we just go get it?" she asked, once again shocking him with her question. Rolling her lips, she squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep, shuddering breath. "After, um. After your club, a-and the game, we could get it together. I can-- I don't want to go to the stupid afterparty anyway." Her voice cracked when she said, "Please, Eddie?"
It was the way she said his fucking name that did him in.
Later that evening, after the rest of the crowd had cleared out, Chrissy approached his van with slow, careful steps. Like she'd trip on a pebble and keel over.
Her shoulders, already drooping with the weight of the world, somehow seemed further burdened. Even her peppy little ponytail didn't bob with the same gusto as normal.
Holding open the passenger door for her had Chrissy awarding him a tired smile. Absolutely bare of emotion. Not a glimmer to be seen.
Jogging around to the driver's side, Eddie started up the beast that was his van and pulled out of the parking lot. Driving, y'know, like a normal human being for once. Even the stereo, by design, was at a reasonable volume.
He'd gotten to his parking spot a few minutes early for a reason, okay?
A few minutes of driving in basic silence was enough to have him on the verge of tearing his own hair out, however.
"Are you alright, Chrissy?" he asked, still trying to keep his voice even. Indoor voice. "Not to, like, overstep or anything, and tell me to go fuck myself immediately if I am, but you kinda seem like you haven't slept. Or something."
That was safe, right? It wasn't gonna make her feel like he was telling her she looked like shit? Because she didn't. Ever. She just looked exhausted.
For a beat, she said nothing. Just dead silence. Eddie was about to retract the entire sentence - fucking hoover it straight back into this throat and swallow down the words until they'd never been spoken aloud in the first place.
Then, her next breath hitched on a sob, and Eddie almost drove into the goddamn shoulder.
"Uh--"
"I-I'm sorry," she sobbed, and it took Eddie a second to realize she was apologizing for crying. "I-I don't-- I don't--"
"Whoa, hey, it's alright," he interrupted before she could finish her stuttered sentence. Which, for some reason, just made her cry even harder. Eddie balked, trying to figure out what the hell he was supposed to do with a passenger seat full of crying cheerleader. This had happened approximately zero times in the past, so it wasn't like he was pulling from experience. Plus, Munsons weren't exactly known for their hospitality.
All he could think to do was rest his hand on her shoulder. Fingers curved around the small round, feeling the jut of her collar beneath. He squeezed, feeling the way she shook, and had to grit his teeth to not retract his hand.
Wishing, not for the first time, that there was a magic encyclopedia in his brain where he could search up something like, what to do when girl crying and get some divine response.
Yet, to his mounting surprise, she actually leaned into his hand.
She leaned into his hand.
Like he was holding her. Like he was a source of comfort.
What the fuck?
They pulled in front of his house a few minutes later, just as her sobs began to quiet into little skips of breath, and neither of them made any move to exit the van.
Admittedly, Eddie was kinda waiting for Chrissy to move first. To shrug herself out from under his palm, or shift like she was reaching for the door handle. She didn't, so Eddie kept still.
A monumental feat, given how his energy buzzed just beneath the surface of his skin. Stemming from where his hand rested on her shoulder.
Except he had to pull his hand away. To put the van in park and turn it off. So he did both of those things, and still, she didn't move.
"So, uh--"
"Jason cheated on me during the camping trip."
What?
"What?" Eddie asked aloud, blindsided by this sudden information. And, Jesus, her voice sounded so goddamn small when she said it. So fucking disconnected.
"I didn't--" Shaking her head, she let out a long, slow breath. "I didn't even get to smoke the weed you sold me. I was-- I'd never tried it, you know? And I was nervous, because Jason doesn't like getting high. He says it's disgusting, but I guess drinking until you black out is okay? I hate drinking, though, so I wanted to try weed. And Jason told me he wouldn't be able to kiss me if I smoked. I didn't-- I just thought he meant, like, that night, right? So Abby - one of my teammates - taught me how to roll a joint, and I was so excited, but I couldn't--I couldn't actually bring myself to light it. I got too scared."
She paused, pulling her knees up to her chest. Curling up like she could make herself smaller. Like the weight of her admittances was swallowing her whole.
"So I trudged back to camp, tail between my legs," she sighed, "and Jason was there. Making out with Stephy Stevenson. Right in front of everyone."
"What the actual fuck?" Eddie could come up with nothing useful to say.
"Yeah," she laughed, her voice devoid of any humor. "I just, um. I lost it, Eddie. I started screaming, and I grabbed my bag, and I left. And now, everyone on the basketball team and half of the cheer squad is making it seem like I'm the crazy one. Like I'm--like I'm damaged or something, and I--" Her eyes welled again, and she squeezed them shut as though to trap the tears in her ducts.
It didn't work.
"I am tired," she admitted, her voice breaking. "And I just-- I just want to sleep, Eddie. God, I just want to sleep until I forget who I am and what's waiting for me back home, because, of course, even my mom thinks I'm insane for breaking up with Jason Carver, like I committed some cardinal sin, and--"
"Hey, uh," he interrupted her tirade, which had her taking in a deep, shaky breath that almost seemed relieved. "Look, I'm not giving you any Special K tonight, peach, got it?"
Her eyes, shiny with tears, popped open and stared at him in wide-eyed terror.
"But," he continued before she could protest, "I am, in fact, the best person to come to with sleep issues."
Her lower lip warbled, brows pulling together with her upset as she let out a choked, "Really?"
"Hell yeah, toots," Eddie said, trying his absolute best to lift her mood. "Ain't nothing a joint, a pepperoni pizza, and a pointless movie can't cure. Might even help with that stupid broken heart you're dealing with. Who knows?"
He shouldered his door open, practically sprinting around the front of the van to get to hers before she could exit herself. She took his hand gratefully when he offered, holding to his arm as they trudged up the few steps and he let her into the trailer first.
The pizza was ordered. Eddie plopped down on the couch beside her, watching her watch him as he rolled a joint. Lighter sparked, he looked at her, seeing the hesitance in her eyes.
"Hey," he said, pulling her gaze away from the joint and onto his face. "You trust me?"
She blinked, and he woulda swore she took in a breath like a gasp. Eyes wide, there was the briefest pause before she admitted, "Yes."
And, Christ, Eddie would have swore some of her sparkle came back when she said it.
She fell asleep in his bed that night.
Eddie, completely unintentionally, fell asleep next to her.
(And, somehow, perhaps by the divine intervention that Eddie did not believe in? Over the next few months, and all through the summer, they slept like that more often than not. And Chrissy swore, every goddamn time, that it was the best she'd ever slept.)
You know what? There’s something I love even more than rockstar Eddie Munson—illustrator Eddie Munson. Picture him thriving in the art world, pouring his creativity into comics, magazines, and all that good stuff.
People don’t talk enough about his artistic talent, you know? Everything he used to create for the Hellfire Club—those intricate campaigns, the characters that felt so alive. That guy has an artist’s soul.
And Chrissy? She’d absolutely be the one to push him toward something bigger. She’d help him see his own worth, telling him,“Eddie, your future doesn’t have to look like your dad’s or your uncle’s. You’re so much more than that.”
She’d make him believe in himself, in his talent.
I can already picture their future. She’s at her dream college, the two of them living far away from Hawkins, building a life together. And Eddie? He’s illustrating comics for magazines like Heavy Metal—one of his all-time favorites—and every single one of his characters looks just a little bit too much like his girl.
Honestly, we need to push the Eddie-the-Illustrator agenda harder!
He was just so gentle with her. He was careful when separating her from her base. Even in her frozen state she could tell that his touch was featherlight.
He’d even put her on a cushion, like she was a princess or something.
Okay so like you guys already knew I was losing my shit over @cellulited-bean s fic The Ballerina
This is your second reminder that you shOULD GO READ THEIR FIC BECAUSE IT'S REALLY REALLY GOOD SO FAR. I need more soooo bad
Hey everyone! Thank you so much for everyone who has signed up to our first Hellcheer bang! We're truly blown away by all your excitement and participation so far 💜
Even though author sign ups are closed now artist sign ups are still open! Just a quick reminder we're accepting art, moodboards, visual edits, videos, gifs and playlist for artist participation. So no need to worry about your drawing skills. We wanna keep this as inclusive as possible! Also, if you've already signed up as an author or beta you can also sign up as an artist.
Here's the link
We're excited to get the ball rolling on the next steps of our Hellcheer baby bang soon!
Story based on a Tumblr prompt submitted to @hellcheer-prompts where Eddie strikes up a deal with Chrissy but he doesn't bother to read the fine print—the fine print that he wrote—and learns the true meaning of non-con...secutive.
Artwork by the gloriously talented @ashleyfanfic whose works I truly adore. I cannot thank you enough for your rendition of this scene!🥰
(because i always crave things that go bump in the night)
across the stars, underneath your skirt (M) by @shroomystar
Magic School AU Witch!Chrissy who finds herself connected (in more ways than one) to Eddie after he spectacularly botches a spell. Incomplete but ahh those 8 chapters we have ✨
not the sinister type. (E) by @medusasfinalgirl
Scream AU idk what else you need to know.🔪
Sharp as Nails, Soft as Honey (E) by @juiceinpanties or @binickandros/ copperleaves
Witch!Chrissy that finally summons a familiar. A cute bat that somehow turns into a cute guy? blood drinking and biting and magic hehe 🦇
The Fairy and the Dragon (G) by @foolofatook001 /eosofthedawn
okay so this look like it doesn't fit, but there's fairy!chrissy so i say it counts! super cute. 🧚🏻♀️
Sweet Affliction (E) by @wheremermaidsdwell / theoreticalpixy
in which Chrissy makes a deal with the devil, however the price must be paid. Lucky for Chrissy the devil's kinda cute. 😈
Sweeter than Heaven, Hotter than Hell (E) by @binickandros / copperleaves (babes I love you okay!!!)
PRAISE THE LORD! Nun!Chrissy and Demon!Eddie this is so silly, goofy but i love it and all the kooky kinks! 📿
Cyrano. (E) by @tofania
ehehehe UNDERRATED!!! A Jason PoV of a possible Eddie/Chrissy relationship with monster!fucking undertones and the subtext is quickly becoming the actual text!! 💋
Hungry Hearts (E) by @the-claire-bitch-project
ahh Claire knows how much I just adore this fic (and its sequel) because I'm the worst and won't let her forget it ever! AND! IT! SHOULD! BE! REMEMBERED! Vamp!Eddie and Zombie!Chrissy hello?! we have blood drinking, brain eating, and sexy spit times? as if I'd ever shut up about it. Body horror queen idc. 🩸
Cursed Romantics (E) by @wheremermaidsdwell
another SUPER UNDERRATED fic! Witch!Chrissy looking to never speak to her mother (or take part in their coven) again, but must when Eddie's dying and her magic isn't enough. ✨
Succubus (E) by @lexr86
the freaks that get it GET IT!! More kinky, monster!fucking with Chrissy as a succubus and Eddie as her favorite meal. YUMMY!! 🫀
The Killing Moon (E) by velvetmayhem
someone or something is attacking the teens of Hawkins. a werewolf au for people like me who want REAL howling at the moon wolves. blood! sweat! tears! 🌕
pentagram (E) by @vixenleather/redjadqueen
okay so there's only 1 chapter but we have Witch!Chrissy that must sacrifice Eddie to her dark lord and obviously the only way to do that is have sex with him! ⛤
Before I Bury You (E) by @astorytotellyourfriends/ justyrae
something you might not know about me is that i LOVE 80's slasher horror! a murderer loose at a summer camp? plus hellcheer? sign me up to be a counselor!! (be warned, people die) 🪓
I will wait by the river (by the light of the moon) (E) by @arcanesword
HOWLING AT THE MOON! AAWOO! finally some actual werewolf fucking! 🐺 catch me wandering the woods in a little red ridding hood costume just in case!
please send me more fics to satisfy my demonic hunger!
Just finished reading Yesteryear and House of my Mother. Think it would be interesting to see Chrissy as the daughter of an influencer trad-wife Laura who somehow befriends and falls in love with Eddie as he introduces her to a secular world.
I haven't read these books but oh my goddddd Chrissy as the exploited kid of a mommy influencer fits so perfectly. She has to maintain her perfect figure not only for her online fans, but also to appear younger because younger kids do better on social media, and because then Laura can get more years of filming out of her kid. Chrissy has her perfect persona - peppy, cheerful, obedient, always smiling - that she can turn on the moment someone raises a phone in her direction. She's a cheerleader because the videos of her at games do super well, her grades are terrible because her mom spends hours a day forcing her to film content instead of studying, and she has very few friends because her mom only lets her hang out with girls whose moms agree to let them be on her channel (hint: not many do).
Her mom has totally exploited her eating disorder for views and has absolutely subtly encouraged her to keep it up while feigning concern over "poor Chrissy, struggling so much." Doesn't take her to a doctor but to a prayer circle and films her while people try to "pray the demon" out of her.
Chrissy ends up failing her senior year, and she gets stuck in summer school with none other than Eddie Munson. She just turned eighteen but doesn't really understand what that means in terms of freedom. She and Eddie get paired up to do a project, and he starts showing her what she's missing. He takes her to fast food places, teaches her how to drive, helps her realize how fucked up her mom is for exploiting her like this, and of course, they fall in love and escape Hawkins together.
Edward stood solemnly in the corridor of Norwood House, staring at the towering oak doors of the library before him, mapping the twists and turns of the intricate carvings as he took a long moment to collect himself.
The house was so quiet, there was only the pounding in his ears, the unevenness of his breathing.
On the other side of these grand doors, Edward’s future bride laid in wait to receive him.
For the first time.
Christina Elizabeth Conyngham
The fallen girl of Hawksworth.
Once the most accomplished and coveted debutante in London; renowned for her beauty and grace, even in the halls of the royal household, engaged to the sole heir of one of the wealthiest families in the county; Edward would not have been permitted to stand within six feet of the lovely Miss Conyngham not more than two years ago.
Now he was here to wed her that very afternoon and bring her home to the crumbling ruin of his estate back in Durham tomorrow morn.
For a great and mysterious misfortune had befallen the Conynghams’ only daughter a little over a year prior, rendering the celebrated young lady to nothing but a reclusive ghost to the rest of the nobility. Her family had quickly spirited her away to their ancestral country home, keeping her well hidden from all her former friends and suitors.
It wasn’t long after her departure from London that her auspicious engagement to Lord Jacob Carnegie, the Fourth Earl of Farhaven, came to an abrupt end, severing the last of her and her family’s ties to polite society.
The rumors, of course, were elaborate, if not sensational. Some people even believed the girl had actually been murdered, attacked by thieves and left for dead on the side of the road. Most guessed she had run off with a lowly foot soldier, forsaking her virtue in a torrid affair and had fallen pregnant.
It wasn’t until Edward’s uncle had written Lord Conyngham with his preposition that a brief explanation was given for the girl’s disappearance and fall from grace.
It was divulged with the request of the utmost discretion that Christina and her lady’s maid had both been abducted on a return journey to London from visiting the Calvert family.
A notorious fugitive known as Creel had attacked and killed their driver and footman, taking the young women and keeping them captive for nearly eight months in his family’s abandoned manor house before they were finally found and liberated by the Sheriff’s men.
Creel’s trial was ongoing, but there was no doubt he would hang before the first frost of winter.
Lord Conyngham did not know what tortures befell his daughter aside from what little her lady’s maid shared with him, for Christina had not uttered a single word since her deliverance and return.
Her parents had called upon the finest doctors in London and Derbyshire, but not one could find a reason for the girl’s sudden silence. There were no signs of harm done to her throat or tongue, nor any damage to her head.
She could still communicate perfectly fine through her writing and drawings. Her father brought in books to instruct her and the servants how to sign with her fingers through gestures and expressions which she picked up quickly.
Unfortunately, her silence was not the only thing she suffered from. Since her return she suffered from fevers and fainting spells, sleep walking and having a handful of hysteric episodes from experiencing relentless night terrors.
Her father warned them before their arrival that she was no longer the same beautiful and witty young lady who had once charmed all the young knaves in the countryside… She had become a frail shell of herself, reserved and meloncholly… some might even say mad.
But that was no matter to Edward’s uncle. There was nothing wrong with the girl’s title or dowry, and that was what was needed for the survival of Blackthorn Hall and all the tenant farms who toiled their land.
His uncle had managed best he could after Edward’s father had squandered both their inheritance and brought endless scandal to the family name, but the money was now all but gone and there was nothing left for them to do but align themselves with a prosperous noble family.
Edward had to marry and produce an heir or all would be lost.
As wicked as it was to say, the Congyhams’ demise would be their salvation.
“We’ve trapped this poor girl,” Edward had whispered on the carriage ride over.
“Well, her father assured me that she agreed to this,” his uncle had told him as he stuffed his pipe. “Despite her mother’s disapproval to the match.”
Still, she had little choice in the matter. She and Edward were doomed to be locked in the same cage together it seemed.
How disappointing he would be to someone who once held the world in her hand.
At his short nod of approval, the footman opened the doors of the library for him, announcing his presence to the young lady who was already standing, perusing the shelves.
Lady Christina jumped a little at his entrance, despite having been waiting for him. Perhaps he had stalled at the threshold longer than he thought he had.
She glanced up from her books and Edward went still, taken aback by her beauty, her otherworldliness.
They both just stood there, staring in silence for so long, Christina’s lady’s maid cleared her throat, waking them from whatever spell that had been cast over them.
Edward remembered himself just as Christina curtsied low and demure.
“Forgive me,” he said softly. “I did not mean to startle you.”
Christina shook her head gracefully, the gold ringlets of her hair bouncing about her as if to say Not at all.
Edward opened his mouth to speak, to tell her of all the things that had been on his mind during his journey, at the door just now, for he knew the lady could not say anything in greeting.
His Uncle Warren could attest that he was never one for lack of something to say, but for the life of him, he could not even form a single syllable for both their sakes.
God above, she was so lovely, despite her obvious fragility, like something out of one of his novels.
Some tortured heroine, Ophelia or Guenivere come to life. Her wispy hair was spun of fire and gold, her thin figure poised and sinewy; her face pale, but so, so queenly and delicate. He could imagine it would feel as soft of dove feathers to caress her.
But it was her eyes that held him captive, for they were the very hour of midnight, dark and haunting, filled with ghosts.
Christina’s pouting lips parted, exchanging a glance with the ruby-haired maid who stood a few paces to the left of her.
The maid only shrugged her shoulders, looking as if she had already decided that Edward was a fool.
Then the lady began to move her fingers. The motions were so artful that Edward found himself bewitched by their dance. It was like she was sewing a gown or painting a picture, crafting words into thin air.
The maid nodded to her mistress before lancing her sharp, icy gaze back to Edward. “She says she hopes you’ve not had a difficult journey, sir.”
He glanced between the two women and valiantly tried to wedge his heart out of his throat to answer. “Y-yes! No! I uh mean, it was, it was a rather uneventful trip, if not a little grey and a few thunderstorms in our path…”
He chuckled awkwardly. What in God’s name was wrong with him? Had he never spoken to a woman before? He had, of course, but never one that could not answer him back, and certainly never one that was going to be his wife.
He bowed his head toward her reverently. “But very much worth it…if I may.”
Their eyes met once more and he felt his heart settle back in his chest, amazed and a little delirious that such a beautiful and enchanting creature was real, that she was to be his.
Christina gave him an amiable little smile, her face blooming becomingly with a bit of color.
He had the inane urge to embrace her, to pick her up and spin her around the room. But then he would surely frighten her, and that was the last thing he wanted.
“I was wondering,” he began, taking a careful step forward, reaching out a hand to her. “If we could have a moment alone together.”
Christina’s maid did not take to that idea at all. Seizing up as if ready to challenge Edward to a brawl, she drew close to her mistress, taking her arm rather intimately into hers as if she were a bosom companion rather than a servant.
Edward was certain that this was the maid who had been held captive alongside Christina. Her wintery eyes held the same horrors and were bruised by the same sleepless nights.
Regardless, there was a ferocity in the girl that burned protectively for her mistress. “Lady Norwood would not approve, sir.”
Edward had only been acquainted with Lady Norwood for about an hour, but even he could attest that she was a cruel and rotten creature. He found he had very little care about her approval.
“In view of the circumstances,” Edward replied cordially. “I don’t think a moment alone before our wedding will cause any harm, miss.”
