An American girl goes back 250 years to help Bonnie Prince Charlie win the British throne and London's two most beautiful actresses along with it. She soon finds that she herself is the prize in yet another battle, between the Prince's two most ardent supporters...a powerful young highland laird and a ruthless, charming Irish rebel. And not one of them knows that they will soon have to face the most deadly enemy of all.
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Prince Charlie's Witch
July 5 was the date when Bonnie Prince Charlie sailed from France to lead his Highland revolt of 1745-6. It was crushed at Culloden...until a modern-day time traveler went back to change things, by urging him to advance into England rather than retreating to Scotland. Now, in this new reality, the prince has won the crown. He is enjoying his new position with two beautiful London stage stars. Whether they will enjoy THEIR positions remains to be seen. "Oh, no, my Prince I mean, my Captain spare me!" she cried, in her most theatrical tones. Making a great show of terror, she ran around the bed. Easily seizing her by the arm, he fell back onto the blue brocade cover and threw her over his knee. His legs closed around hers to keep her from escaping, while his left arm came down like an iron bar across her shoulders. Then his right hand rose and fell in rapid rhythm, turning her bare bottom first bright pink and then an angry red, first warm and then almost unpleasantly hot. His right hand grew heated in the same way, but he easily ignored its stinging, while his untried left hand pinned her slim shoulders down. As her belly pressed against his thighs, he felt her squirming against him, creating an entirely new area of sensation. The scent of her face powder and rosewater mingled with the last traces of her greasepaint to bring him an added excitement: the wicked pleasures of the theater and the actresses who provided them. And was he not also an actor? Usually his stage was on the most heroic scale. Now two of the most famous women in London were happy to follow this script of his by lying across his lap with their backsides in the air, all dignity forgotten, waiting for his hand to strike them...
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