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Loving Leonardo
Loving Leonardo - The Quest |
Rose Anderson, welcome to Romance Lives Forever. We're excited to interview
your character, Nicolas Halstead from the book, Loving Leonardo – The Quest
Genre: Erotic Romance/Historical m/m/f
Publisher: Calliope’s Writing Tablet
Cover artist: Kim Van Meter
Length: Approximately 200 pages
Heat rating: Scorching
Tagline: Love transcends all barriers.
Blurb:
Never in his wildest
imaginings as an art historian, could Nicolas Halstead conceive the book Leonardo
da Vinci created for his lover Salai existed, let alone lead to the discovery of
hidden declarations of love worked into da Vinci masterpieces.
Happy and content in their polyamorous relationship, Nicolas,
Ellie and Luca embark on a quest to learn all they can about the greatest mind of
the Renaissance. But their world takes a devastating and deadly turn that sends
Nicolas into the deviant underworld of Victorian London. It becomes clear that Conte
Acario Bruno lives, and the madman wants far more than Leonardo's book. He desires
Nicolas’ death, and Luca for himself.
What are your main characters' names, ages, and occupations?
Nicolas Halstead 11th Earl of Halstead: 31 years old. House of
Lords, Art Historian for the famed Ashmolean
Museum. He acquires and manages
her Majesty’s art collections.
Elenora Schwaab Halstead: 24 years old. The new Lady Halstead.
Student of philosophy, Suffragette, and American Progressive. Daughter of the American
Consul to her Majesty Queen Victoria.
Luca Franco: 32 years old. The new Professor of Antiquities at
the Ashmolean Museum. Son of a Venetian merchant. Head
of the Franco family. He acquires items of history to add to the vast museum collections.
Excerpt:
A full day of travel had gotten us to Parma. Tired and hungry, Father Tioretto led us
to a sizable and surprisingly well-appointed inn. Even if he didn’t know the area
well, by the delicious aroma wafting in the street our noses would have eventually
led us there. I paid to have our belongings taken inside and made arrangements for
the coachman to come gather us the next morning. We asked for baths and the serving
maids hurried up the stairs to ready our rooms. We found a quiet corner and ate
our fill of the fabulous cuisine. Father Tioretto explained that Parma was famous for its hard
flavorful cheese. Luca added that the Renaissance Humanist, Boccaccio, praised the
cheese of Parma
in his literary Decameron. Well-read
as she was, Ellie had already made the connection. I once more counted my
lucky stars to have found these two who not only stimulated my heart and body, but
my mind as well.
As he poured our dessert wine, the sociable innkeeper gave directions to the Galleria Nazionale di Parma. The man just so happened to belong to the Farnese
family, the original owners of many of the artworks there. According to our host,
his line came from Alessandro Farnese. We showed no recognition at the name,
spurring him to explain in detail how the world came to know Alessandro as Pope
Paul III, and who, as pope, fathered the innkeeper’s grandmother several generations
back. Father Tioretto apparently didn’t care for the conversation and wolfing down
his torta, he wished us well and bid us
a hasty good night. The innkeeper’s ensuing chuckle made me wonder if he’d elaborated
the papal bastardy of his lineage on purpose.
When the maid informed us our rooms were ready, we took our wine and glasses
and made our way upstairs to our separate rooms to freshen up. Two steaming copper
hipbaths on wheels sat near the stove with a towel-draped folding screen between
them. Seeing no need for the screen, I hauled it off to the corner. There wasn’t
much water in the tubs, but certainly enough with which to wash the travel dust
away.
I watched my wife prepare herself, standing before the wall mirror, her tongue
poking in concentration as she arranged the pins in her hair and tightened the curls
that were want to spill free. Several cinnamon strands wouldn’t cooperate and these
she rolled around and around her finger until they were tight curls to be tucked
under the rest. I was transfixed by the deliberate feminine processes whose end
results were suggestive of the coifs of Degas’ ballerinas. Thomas was correct. Women
were a breed apart, but as the French
said, Vive La Différence!
She removed her blouse, skirts, and bustle, and for some reason my mind took
a different turn. In my mind’s eye I saw her naked and gagged with a burlap sack
over her head. For two days now my mind had been intermittently taken by that terrible
image, followed by an instantaneous albeit short-lived feeling of dread. I couldn’t
say why, but for some reason I felt it now. The sensation that Thomas often referred
to as “a goose walking over a grave.”’ Kneeling, I helped her from her shoes and
stockings. Lifting the hem of her camisole, I pressed my forehead to her bare belly
and hugged her to me. How I loved this precious nymph.
I’d felt such panic when Conte Bruno abducted her. Perhaps the image was
just residual emotion that hadn’t time to drain away. Whatever it was, Ellie seemed
unfazed by her experience. She was, without doubt, a most intrepid little thing.
She’d taken the kidnapping in stride. I, on the other hand, was privy to information
she didn’t have. Namely, the gang rape Bruno had planned for her. A shiver ran up
my spine. In my mind, I pictured the face of the man I’d killed, the moment of surprise
on his face just before I’d hit him with the statue of Apollo. I didn’t regret the
act, but I couldn’t deny that had Bruno had more men there that night, her rescue
could have gone terribly wrong.
When I glanced up, she was gazing down upon me. Her soft hands swept back
my hair. I’d noticed in the past few weeks that we’d developed an unspoken language
between us. This undoubtedly came about from our close contact and soul baring conversation,
and the fact we had similar minds. Her next words proved how well she’d come to
know me.
“What is it, Nicolas? Something is troubling you, I feel it.”
I lied. “No, my sweet, I’m only thinking of tomorrow.” Her raised eyebrow
declared her doubt. Determined not to let her see the dark cloud in my mind, I sought
redirection. I kissed her navel then circled it with the tip of my tongue. Meeting
her gaze once more, I could see she believed me. I saw something else as well. Indeed
I could, for her nipples had gone hard under the cotton of her camisole and her
clear blue eyes had turned sultry. She wanted something. My grey thoughts evaporated
when she pulled the camisole over her head, an act that left her wearing only her
pantalets.
As a newly-wedded man who’d so recently discovered women, I found myself
appreciating the mystery of their fashion. Of course I was aware of the structured
framework of their undergarments. The artwork of Lovis Corinth and washday at home
and all around London
told me of pantalets, bloomers, and corsets. But Ellie didn’t corset herself. She
was such a petite little thing there was no need to artificially hold her figure.
I ran my hands over her cotton-covered thighs and my cock rose in anticipation
of what lay beneath. In my life prior to my bisexual self-discovery, I could never
have imagined that going through the flounces of lace and frills of a woman’s undergarments
would make me as giddy as a small child opening a gift on Christmas morning.
Interview with Nicolas Halstead
Tell us about yourself.
Nicolas seated himself
and crossed his legs comfortably before him. “Well, let me see…My name is Nicolas
Halstead, 11th Earl of Halstead.
I’ve assumed my deceased father’s seat in House of Lords. Though my travels puts
me hardly ever there. As a young man I was educated at Eaton, and then finished
my art history education at Oxford.
From there I did my internship at the Ashmolean, where I recently became a fellow.
It falls to me to add to her Majesty’s collections of state, and to do so, I acquire
artworks from private holdings and collections.
I’m an exceedingly private
person. To maintain that desired privacy, I live in London, away from the family estate. Mrs. Fletcher,
my housekeeper, looks after me and has since the accident that killed my parents.
My grandmother, Lady Augusta Halstead did me immeasurable kindness when she gave
me over to her trusted servant’s care all those years ago. She has no idea of the
bond between Mrs. Fletcher and me, or what we truly share. You see, my Grandmother
comes from a time of little deviation from the path society placed before you. The
old dear would come undone in knowing the truth of me.”
Nicolas’ lips twitch.
“Until recently, I lived a quiet, somewhat content, life.”
Tell us about Ellie and Luca.
The twitch transformed into a wide smile. “I’ll assume by the question, you
are aware of my nature. Therefore, to phrase it simply, we three are lovers and
I love them. It’s trite to say,
but we complete one another in ways we hardly realized were incomplete. Through them, I’ve discovered and accepted myself.
Were I to describe my new wife, I’d say she’s unlike anyone, male or female,
of my acquaintance. Bold as brass in speaking plainly…in attitude and affections
as well. She’s a suffragette, a progressive in the truest sense. If any woman deserved
the vote it would be she. Her mind is extraordinary, her heart fiercely loving and
protective. She’s American, you know. In general, Americans reminded me of impressionist artists.
The Impressionists violated the rules of academic painting, and Americans violate
the rules of conventionality. As a student of nuance, I very much like her. That
on top of the love I feel. I consider Ellie
to be a true partner in life and love.
Luca? He and I are cut
from the same cloth in our interests and we share compatible views. I see Luca as
one of the world’s purest souls. He’s kind and sensitive, loving and thoughtful.
And I’ll add to that -- he’s compassionate and self-sacrificing to a fault. Luca
is also bold and brave, far braver than I. He’s been through a lot in the last ten
years. Were I able, I’d take the heartache onto myself to free him of it. I know
he would do the same for me. He’s a man anyone would be proud to know, let alone
love.”
What do you think is your strongest point?
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| Calliope |
“Modesty?” He laughed.
“How does one consider their strongest attributes without sounding conceited? Let’s
see…I’m a loyal friend and devoted to those I love. I have empathy. Consequently,
the unfortunate and hungry souls in Rome
laid me quite low when we were there. Admitting to that, I’d have to add that I’m
more than soft-hearted, I’m painfully aware. I suppose that is my strongest and
weakest attribute -- my attention to detail. I simply do not possess a blind eye.
Given my training and interest in the artworks of the ages, I readily grasp nuance.
I see the subtle shading of life in those small details often missed by others.
It allows me to read situations quickly. Not a bad skill for a man with a deviate’s
proclivity in an intolerant world!”
As a child, who was your best friend? Tell us
about him/her.
“When I was a lad of
twelve or so, Mrs. Fletcher’s orphaned nephew Thomas came to Halstead. He was a
few years older than I and possessing a ready talent with horses, took a position
working in the stables. I got to spend time with him when my Grandmother was out
and about. I found him witty and fun and although our stations in life divided us,
we enjoyed one another’s company. I went away to school and we stayed in touch through
letters. When I returned home, I went to the stable to find my friend, and instead
found him with his lover, the farrier’s son. Thom and I became lovers shortly after.
Our relationship changed. And so had I.”
What do you wish was different about your life?
“I was born to a world
divided by class structure and limitations. My mind sees the outward trappings of
this divide daily, especially at Halstead. But my relationships with Mrs. Fletcher
and her nephew Thomas transcend such boundaries. They mean the world to me, and
my heart rebels at the very idea that I must keep my love for them a secret. I love Luca as well. It wasn’t all that long
ago, loving him would cost us our lives. There’s no longer a death penalty for homosexual
Englishmen, but we are still not free to love. I wish I was able to openly
show my affections.”
If you were given your
fondest wish, what would it be?
“I’d wish to turn back
the clock to see my dear Thom living a full and happy life. We’d been together nearly
thirteen years before I married Ellie. It was he who ended our relationship out
of respect for her. I miss him.”
What do you wish I had asked you? Please ask
and answer it now.
“I would have asked,
Will we ever live in a tolerant world?
My answer would be,
yes. It’s 1887. Look how far we’ve come. Women will be voting side by side with
men shortly, and are soon to be equal in every way. Especially if my wife has her
say! With such social progress broadening our understanding of ourselves, I can’t
imagine it taking long for prejudice, bigotry, and hatred to fall by the wayside.
Love and kindness, tolerance and charity – these are precepts of faith around the
world. But we don’t need our faith to tell us this is best. Like water, mankind
eventually follows the path of least resistance. I have every confidence that before
long, we’ll do what makes sense.”
About the Author
I love words and choose them as carefully as an artist might
choose a color. My active imagination compels me to write everything from children’s
stories to historical nonfiction. As a persnickety leisure reader, I especially
enjoy novels that feel like they were written just for me. It's hard to explain,
but if you've ever read one of those, then you know what I mean. I tend to sneak
symbolism and metaphor into my writing. You might say it's a game I play with myself
when I write. And I so love when readers email to say they've found something. I’d
like people to feel my stories were written just for them, for that’s the truth.
These hidden insights are my gift to my readers.
Previous Books
Loving Leonardo
The Witchy Wolf and the Wendigo Book 1 Askewheteasu
The Witchy Wolf and the Wendigo Book 2 Eluwilussit
Dreamscape
Hermes Online
Books Coming Soon
Loving Leonardo – The Quest (release -- late April 2013)
Contest
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