Mary Elle: The Chosen One — Lynn Wood

A young American artist. The young Madonna. A compelling connection between the two. A young artist paints a vision of the child virgin and sets mysterious forces into play. Overnight she is propelled atop the dizzying heights of the glittering international art scene where she encounters wealthy collector, Luc Bordeaux. For a single, dazzling Paris weekend she's Cinderella at the ball until reality intrudes and her fairy tale fades as swiftly as her trans-Atlantic flight home. But Mary Elle soon discovers that just like a fairy tale where ever there's light, darkness lurks in the shadows seeking an opportunity to extinguish it. Confused and frightened, her search for answers only leads her deeper into a gathering mystery. Sensing the stakes escalating with each new painting she is compelled to recreate, Mary Elle becomes trapped between her former ordinary life and her luminous new life made possible by the gift of the staggering talent she's always longed for. Unwilling to walk away and suspecting she's in danger of losing both her art and Luc, Mary Elle clings to her precarious hold on her dreams until the price of the destiny being held out to her is revealed and she must decide if she can bear to pay it… How can she choose? Preview: “I thought we would enjoy dinner together, but if you are bored with the company…” Mary Elle broke in, “You're joking, right? Today has been like a dream. I spent most of it pinching myself when you weren't looking. I feel like Cinderella at the ball, but even fairy tale princesses have to face the inevitable chime of midnight and its accompanying end to their fantasies.” Grinning at her analogy Luc leaned in close and brushed his lips across hers, “It's not yet midnight, Mary Elle.” Who was she kidding? She allowed herself to be persuaded. In truth, she didn't try very hard to protest his plans. They dined on the stone patio of his centuries old mansion on the bank of the River Seine. Their eyes met across the small distance separating them. Mary Elle's breath suddenly deserted her. He tugged on her hand and she leaned towards him. When it came, his kiss was more than she'd caught herself dreaming it would be. One of his hands released the one he was holding between them and his fingers trailed up her arm to clasp the back of her head and hold her close to him. When he leaned away he urged, “Stay with me, Mary Elle. Be with me.” “Yes,” Her agreement slipped from between her lips with no thought of resistance, with no thought at all. She didn't want to think about the consequences. She just wanted to let herself be, and to be with Luc. He rose from his chair and pulled her up from hers and into his arms. He whispered erotic promises in French as he slid his lips along the long column of her throat. Mary Elle let herself be seduced by him, by the scent of the Wisteria vines growing up the terrace posts, by the whisper of a lover's promises along the air of the still Paris night. He carried her across the oriental carpet covering his highly polished hardwood floor, coming to a stop at the side of his hand-carved antique bed. For a moment he stood staring intently down at her. “You're beautiful.” “You make me feel beautiful,” she confessed, so happy she'd given herself permission to allow herself the joy of sharing herself with this man. A virtual stranger to her, but his hands, his lips were making her feel as if she was the most desirable woman in the world, as if he considered her a precious treasure. He seduced her slowly and she glorified in his seduction. Hadn't the entire day been one continuous slide into this culmination? ‘How could this be happening to me?' she wondered silently...