KRYSTA FOX
Copyright © 2021 by
Krysta Fox
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Epilogue
Also by Krysta Fox About the Author
CONTENTS
SUMMARY
He's a leprechaun in desperate need of some luck. She doesn't believe that luck exists. Could a strange twist of fate turn into something special for them both?
LIAM
Searching for the luck stolen from my family centuries ago hasn't left me a lot of time for much else. When I get into an accident, I find myself face to face with a feisty beauty who truly turns my world upside down. She doesn't believe in luck, leprechauns or love. Can I find a way to convince her that love is real and there's a magical ending waiting for us? Or will my curse of bad luck mean I lose out on her love in the end?
RACHEL
Work hard, stay focused, and make things happen. That's my mantra. Because everyone knows that luck isn't actually real. Then all my carefully laid plans fall apart when an accident happens and I'm thrown together with a gorgeous man who makes me wish for something more. At least for one night. When our time together comes to an end, will I watch him walk away with my heart? Or could I actually find true love, and maybe even a little luck, in his arms?
LeprechaunLoveisthethirdbookintheLuckyinLoveSeries.It’s a sweet, steamy short instalove romance between a handsome leprechaun and his gorgeous CW with a guaranteed HEA. NO cliffhangersandNOcheating.
LIAM
Frustration swirls in my stomach as the ball of light I'd been juggling flickers and goes out, disappearing from the palm of my hand. My brothers watched me from across the stage, worry clear on their faces.
"Liam, maybe you should have a rest," my brother Lochlan says. "We know you can do this trick. No sense wearing yourself out practicing it."
I roll my eyes. "We all know a nap isn't going to solve my problem, Loch. My magic's disappearing. It's tied to our family's treasure, and if we don't find the last piece, I'll lose it forever."
Our youngest brother, Logan, shoves his hair back, making it stand up in spikes. "We'll find it. Just like we did the other two." He pointed to Loch with his chin. "Rainey's on it. She'll track it down."
Despair fills me, a brief moment of weakness that I know my brothers can see. "I know she's doing her best. I just don't know if it will be in time."
"It will be." Loch crosses the distance between us at the same time Logan does. They each settle a hand onto my shoulders, and I can fill warmth radiating from them into me and I realize what they're doing.
"No, guys, you can't."
"Sharing our luck with you won't hurt us," Logan says, his eyes closed in concentration. "We're a team. Without you, we wouldn't have gotten this close. No matter what, we're going to find this last piece and everything will be fine. I know it."
I want to believe him, to trust that somehow, the search we've spent years on will finally be over. We'll be whole and well again, no longer worrying about our magic disappearing. But a part of me, deep down, is full of doubt.
As if my brothers have summoned her, Loch's fiancé Rainey appears from the wings of the stage, waving a sheet of paper over her head, a triumphant smile beaming on her face.
"I found it!" She rushes to us, shoving the paper at me. "A rare green diamond, square cut, surrounded by white diamonds and set in white gold. This has to be it. It's exactly like you described, Liam. Exactly."
The excitement shining in her eyes crushes the lingering doubt I've been carrying for so long, hope rising up and threatening to overwhelm me. The details on the page blur as I try to focus on them. A grainy picture of a diamond ring is all I can make out. But it's really all I need to see. Confirmation that our search might finally be over.
Rainey hugs me, giving me a sisterly kiss on the cheek, making my younger brothers laugh as a blush floods my cheeks. "You need to get going, Liam. We don't have much time before the auction goes live."
RACHEL
I grind my teeth as I wait in the line of traffic, my fingers tapping an impatient rhythm on the steering wheel of my car. The vehicles ahead of me are barely inching their way forward, the construction barricades limiting us to one lane on this main throughway in the middle of Starlight City. And the only way to the auction house I needed to get to.
"Come on," I hiss through my teeth, "some of us have places we have to be." The minutes are ticking away, limiting the amount of time I have left to reach my client before he makes a huge mistake. "Why couldn't you just bid on it remotely like most people? Why did you have to insist on being there in person?" I wonder aloud to myself, the desperate tone in my voice clear.
Finally, the car ahead of me lets off the brake, driving ahead, as one of the construction crew waves it on. I follow suit, stomping on the gas so I won't miss this short window of open road. The crewman gapes at me, shaking his head and holding his hands up, but I just ignore him, determined to get through this intersection and that much closer to my destination.
When I look forward again, it's to the bright red flash of brake lights on the vehicle ahead of me. I jam my brakes, but it's too late. A loud, crunching crash fills my ears as the impact vibrates through my body. I jerk forward, my seat belt saving me from a painful
collision with the steering wheel. Pounding fills my head as I realize I've just rear ended someone.
The door opens on the car in front of me and a tall man exits, concern on his face. He nods to the construction worker, who gestures to me, and my heart sinks. There's no way we'll get through this in time. The man approaches my car and I press the button beside me, rolling the window down.
"I'm sorry," I say, even though I know that's not what you're supposed to say in this situation. But it's the truth. I am sorry.
He smiles, bright green eyes crinkling at the corners. "Hey, there, it's all right." I can hear the hint of an accent in his voice, and it warms me. "I just wanted to check and make sure you're all right."
I nod, swallowing back the lump in my throat. The sound of car horns swells behind us and my cheeks flame with embarrassment as the construction worker crosses over to us.
"Are your vehicles drivable?" he asks us, and the man with the accent gives him a quick nod. My car sputters, and I wince at the sound. The crewman waves me over to the side where I see they've pulled aside some of the barriers. I pull over and a get out, slamming the door in my frustration. A quick glance at my watch provides confirmation I'll never make it to my destination in time. For a moment, I wish that my client would've listened to me, or that there weren't such strict rules about cell phones on the auction floor or that I hadn't taken the route blocked by construction. Then my practical nature kicks in and reminds me that wishing for things is foolish, and I need a plan. Wishing for something won't solve this problem.
"Excuse me." The warm voice behind me is a surprise and the man I hit minutes ago smiles as I spin around. "I know we're supposed to call police or something like that, but I'm running late and really need to go. Can we just get exchange phone numbers real quick and talk about this later?"
"Yes, that would be great. I'm running late too. I need to get to the Martin Building and," I turn, gesturing at my car helplessly, "this is clearly not going to make it there."
"I'm going to the Martin Building. I'd be happy to give you a ride. We can exchange our information on the way."
Hope spreads through me as I check my watch. With a ride to the auction location, I could still get there in time. I offer my rescuer a relieved smile. "That would be the best thing that's happened to me all day. Thank you."
I race around to the passenger side, open the front door and grab my briefcase and phone. I offer a wave of thanks to the crew member who'd given me a place to move my car out of the way of the other vehicles and call out to him. "I'll get it moved as soon as I can. I promise."
He just nods and turns his attention back to directing traffic. I join the man leading me over to his car, wincing at the heavy dent I'd created in his rear bumper. He opens the passenger side front door for me and shuts it securely as I slide in. I buckle my seat belt, the safety it provided minutes ago fresh in my mind.
Settling into the driver's seat, he hits the starter and the engine comes to life. He pulls away from where we'd stopped and I'm shocked to see the way ahead is clear.
"The crew was clearing out some heavy equipment. They were almost done when the accident happened."
"How did you know what I was thinking?"
He laughs. "Just a feeling. I'm Liam, by the way." He offers me his hand and I shake it, relaxing for the first time in hours.
"I'm Rachel. Again, I'm so sorry about what happened. I'll make sure your vehicle is fixed. I promise."
"I trust you." Liam shoots me a quick grin, turning his attention back to the street right away as he hands me his phone. "It might be easiest if you just call yourself from my phone. That way we know how to reach each other."
I take his phone, my fingers grazing his, a spark shocking us both.
"Wow. That was big," he says, winking at me. "Shocking."
His humor eases something in my chest and I realize some of the worry that's been dogging me all day is gone. "Very," I joke back, enjoying this moment of fun.
"So, why are you going to the Martin Building?" he asks.
"One of my clients is there, attending an auction. He plans to bid on something. I have to give him some important information and can't reach him. No phones are allowed on the auction floor for onsite participants. Only the agents handling remote bids have access to their phones."
His eyes meet mine and it's suddenly a little harder for me to breathe with that intense gaze locked on me. "What a coincidence. I'm going to the auction as well. Maybe we both got lucky running into each other like that."
"Oh, I don't believe in luck," I say quickly, looking away. "My parents always told me it was better to find a solution than hope a solution would find you."
His mouth twists up on one side, a dimple appearing in his cheek with the movement. "Wise words. A little boring, but wise."
I look down at his phone, still in my hand, and use it as a distraction. There's something about this man, about his sense of humor and confidence, the kindness he's already shown me, that makes me more comfortable than anyone else ever has. I'm usually high strung and focused. He makes me feel like I can relax, which is rare for me.
I type my number into his phone and hear the answering ring of my own device. I save the number into his contacts and type my name, then hand it back to him. He sets it in the center console and continues driving. The snarl of traffic that had delayed is earlier is gone, and we reach the Martin Building with a few minutes to spare. A parallel spot opens up as we arrive and he navigates into the tight space with easy confidence.
We exit the car and race up the front steps to the entrance together. An elevator is open in the lobby, as if it was waiting for us, and he offers me a crooked grin as he hits the button for the top floor. "Maybe we're getting a little lucky right now," he says.
My anxiety had started to build again, but that teasing comment chases it away. "Maybe," I admit, glad that Liam is here with me now.
The bell rings as the elevator shudders to a stop. The door opens and we step out into the hallway together.
LIAM
I know I should be focused on why I'm here. The ring is what's really important, the final piece that will complete my family's treasure and bring our luck fully back. But the beautiful woman beside me is an easy distraction. The pencil skirt she wears emphasizes the gorgeous curves of her hips and the buttoned suit jacket defines her waist. I wish we had more time to talk, more time to get to know one another. As the door to the room hosting the auction appears before us, I force my mind back to the reason I'm here.
As I reach for the handle, she stops me, her hand on my wrist. Another spark erupts between us and she startles back. Her eyes meet mine and I hesitate, waiting for her.
"I just want to thank you again for your help. For getting me here."
"No thanks needed. I think it was just meant to be."
She blushes and I force myself to turn away, to open the door, and watch as she steps into the room, moving away from me as soon as her gaze settles on the person she's here to find.
I give my name to the man at the door and he adds it to the ledger, handing me a numbered paddle for bidding. He points me to a row midway up where an empty seat is available right beside the aisle. I hurry forward, slipping onto the seat and am surprised to see
Rachel two seats away, urgently speaking to an older gentleman, her voice rising.
"You can't bid on it. I found an error in the provenance. We have to report it to them."
He squints at her, brow furrowed, then gestures with the catalog in his hand. She taps a picture on the page he's got it opened to.
"This description isn't accurate. I followed up on all the details, there's a mistake. If you buy it now, it could be taken back. We have to report it."
The man shakes his head, but Rachel gets up, steps past me with only a quick, apologetic glance as I shift to let her by. She makes her way to the front of the room where the auctioneer is about to open the call for bids on the first item. She pulls an page from her briefcase and the auctioneer reads over it, then waves to one of the employees of the auction house, who hurries up to them. Their discussion is intense, but very quickly, the auctioneer steps up to the microphone and says in a clear, decisive voice, "I apologize for the delay. Due to an inconsistency in the information we were provided about Item 261, that piece will be removed from today's sale."
My stomach twists, and I can't breathe. Item 261 is the ring I came here to buy. The ring I need to return to my family. Without it, I'll lose all the magic I have, and the luck that connects me to my family's legacy. There are people stirring around me, some complaints and words of disappointment at the announcement, but it's not disappointment that fills me. It's worry. Worry that I'd come this close and lose the one piece I need to restore what my family has lost.
I leave my chair and walk to the back, handing my paddle over and watching as my number is crossed off.
RACHEL
The manager of the auction house beckons to me and I leave my disappointed client behind, accepting his final thanks with a shake of his hand. As I step into the hallway, I'm surprised to see Liam is already out there, his head tipped to the side as he speaks with the manager. I can see the concern on his face and there's a tightness in his jaw that wasn't there earlier.
"I understand you've removed the item from today's auction. But I'm still interested in purchasing it. Would a private sale be possible?"
The manager shoots a look at me as I join their group. "Rachel, please explain what you found as you researched this piece."
"Well, basically, there's a small gap in the provenance. It's like it appeared from nowhere. There's no proof that it originated from the royal collection as it stated in the description."
She sighs and looks away, her gaze focused on the city spread out below the window. She turns back to Liam. "Sir, knowing this information, are you sure you're still interested in a private sale? If in fact, the item isn't part of the royal collection as we were told, it would reduce the overall value of the item."
Liam nods, an emphatic tip of his head. "Absolutely."
Giving us both a tired wave she says, "I'll talk with the item's owner and explain the situation. If he's still interested in selling, we'll
contact you."
Liam gives her his phone number and she leaves us standing there.
"I'm sorry about interrupting the auction," I say to him. "I didn't realize you were planning to bid on the same thing my client was interested in."
There's a distant look in his eyes as he watches the manager walk away, already on the phone with the ring's owner. When he focuses on me, I have to fight down the urge to gasp. There's an intensity there that I haven't seen yet, a spark of light spinning in the centers. It's there and gone so quickly I wonder if I've imagined it.
"Don't worry about it. What you found might actually make this easier for me." He points to the manager, who is returning to where we stand, her phone at her side.
"The owner of the piece will consider a private sale at this time. We'll process the transaction for him if you're in agreement."
Liam shakes her hand as they agree on a price and hands her a shiny black card, which she takes to her office to run through and finalize the sale.
"Would you like to have dinner?" he asks me as we're standing there alone. I'm stunned by the offer, it's so unexpected. He gives me a warm smile and adds, "I know we've only just met. But I feel I owe you something for all you've done."
I gape at him, only realizing after a shocked second that my mouth is hanging open. I snap it shut and try to laugh away the embarrassment. "I don't understand. I rear ended you. I ruined the auction for a piece you wanted to bid on. And I just revealed an issue in the provenance of that item."
He leans in close as the auction house manager steps out of her office, a box in her hand and a relieved look on her face. "Have dinner with me and I'll explain."
With that lingering, mysterious offer, he turns away from me to shake hands with the manager. She opens the case and he touches the jeweled item within, nodding with satisfaction before the lid
closes and his card is returned. He thanks her and says goodbye, then returns his attention to me.
"Well, what do you think? Dinner?"
LIAM
I should be excited, ecstatic even. A simple brush of my finger over the center stone of the ring I'd purchased had confirmed this was the last missing piece from my family's treasure. I can already feel my magic returning, filling me up as if it had never left. Instead, I'm on edge. Waiting, hoping that she'll accept my invitation to have dinner. Because I don't want this time together to be over. There's a strange pull, a connection I feel that I can't shake.
She looks back and forth down the hallway, and then checks her phone. She finally gives me a little smile, her full, rosy lips curving up in a way that has my heart rate speeding up. "Okay, then. Dinner." She laughs as I offer her my arm in a formal way and slips her hand into the crook of my arm. "Don't get too cocky there, mister. I really just want to find out why you're so infatuated with this ring."
"It's a good story," I say as we step into the elevator and I hit the button for the lobby. They have a five-star restaurant in this building and we're early enough that I hope getting a table for two won't be a problem. I can feel my luck gathering around me once again, and it's comforting to have it back. I hadn't realized how much I missed it until I got it back. Looking at the curvy beauty standing next to me, her hand still on my arm, I hope that my luck has even more in store for me.
When we reach the restaurant, we're ushered to a table in the rear, with floor to ceiling windows that offer a view of the beautiful courtyard bathed in the setting sun. We order drinks and our meals, then she settles back into her chair. "So, tell me this story."
I send a quick text message to the owner of a tow company I know, giving him the address of her car and asking him to tow it to his lot where it'll be safe overnight. Then I give Rachel my complete, undivided attention. "Do you believe in magic?"
Surprise flashes across her face as she studies me for a few moments. Silence stretches between us as she examines me, probably wondering how crazy I might be. Then she shakes her head, something like sadness in her eyes, before she answers. "No. I don't."
"Are you sure about that?" I ask, teasing her a little. As she opens her mouth to answer me, I snap my fingers and a longstemmed red rose appears between them. I hand it across the table to her. She takes it from me, lifts it to her nose and breathes the scent in deeply.
"How did you do that?"
I shrug. "Magic."
"No, really."
"Really." I pull the case that holds the ring from my pocket and lift the lid. The sun slanting in through the windows reflects in the facets, painting the walls with a dancing pattern of rainbows. "This ring. You said you noticed a gap in the provenance. That's because it was stolen from my family centuries ago. Over the years, we've been able to restore pieces of the treasure but there were three items no one had been able to find. My brothers and I had just managed to locate two of them."
"And this is ...?"
I touch the box reverently and the ring inside chimes in response, making me grin even as Rachel starts at the sound. "This is the final piece. Having it, well, it means more than you could ever know."
She sits quietly across from me, transfixed on my story as I continue. "I know this will sound insane, but I'm a leprechaun,
Rachel. Recovering all the items stolen from my family means that our luck, our magic, will return in full. None of us will be in danger of losing it ever again. I was days away from losing all my innate magic, and then this happened." I gesture to her and the ring, happiness swirling in me. "And now, my luck, my magic, is back. And I have you to thank for it."
Rachel stares at me, still holding the bright bloom in her hand, and I can see her mind spinning through my tale, searching for inconsistencies. When she gives a nod, relief hits me like a punch to the gut. "Well, that explains why you didn't care about the provenance and were willing to do a private sale. You don't care about the value of the ring, because you don't have plans to sell it in the future."
"Exactly right. Because of you, I was actually able to purchase the ring for far less than if it had gone to auction as planned. So again, thank you."
She leans forward, propping her elbows under her chin. "This is hard for me. I mean, I know there are vampires and wolf shifters and even ghouls here in Starlight City. I've worked for some of them. But leprechauns?"
I laugh. "We don't exactly look the way most people expect."
That earns me a smile. "You don't. You're .."
"I'm what?" I ask, cocking an eyebrow at her.
"You're," she gives me a quick once over that thrills me. "You're very handsome. Which you probably hear all the time."
"Not from women as beautiful as you." I'm pleased by the blush spreading across her cheeks. My phone chimes, and I glance at the message that flashes on the screen. "Your car is being towed to a secure lot by a good friend of mine. After dinner I can take you over there, or you can come with me and see a little more magic happen."
Our meals are delivered, delicious scents wafting up, but I don't look away from her. I want her to say yes. To come with me, to meet my brothers, to see what we've built here.
She considers her answer for long enough that I'm nervous she might say no. When she finally smiles, it's like I'm being handed the
world. "Show me your magic," she says with a wink, and my cock goes hard at the husky, teasing note in her voice. This is going to be fun.
RACHEL
Dinner is delicious and we laugh the whole way through. My nervousness at being on a date for the first time in a very long time fades quickly away in Liam's presence. His family's story intrigues me and he tells me so many hilarious stories about his brothers that I can't wait to meet them. When we arrive at the club, he helps me out of his car and holds my hand as we walk into the magic club the three of them own.
Upon entering, he leads me down the hallway to where the serving staff is setting up tables for the night. He introduces me to the hostess and she writes my name next to a table number on the reservation sheet. He leads me to the table in the center of the space, directly in front of the stage. A placard marks it as reserved.
"This will be your table. You'll have the best view of everything. And the staff will bring you anything you want. On the house." Liam waves at two men standing at the edge of the stage, the clear resemblance marking them as brothers. He smiles down at me, true, genuine happiness in his eyes. "Come meet them."
Before I know it, he whisks me off backstage and introduces me to his younger brothers, Lochlan and Logan. They bear the same hints of red in their hair and beards, and both have the same sense of humor. We're quickly laughing about how Liam and I met as well as how he was able to get the ring from the auction manager. I can
see the relief on their faces when he shows it to them and the pure emotion has me starting believe the story Liam told me.
Just before the lights dim in the club, he escorts me back to the table where two other young women are sitting. He introduces me to them as the heroine who got him the ring and then he disappears. As I collapse into the chair, my head spinning, one of them leans over. "It's always like that with these three. I'm Cassie. I'm engaged to Logan," she says. "Thank you for helping Liam today. Rainey was able to track down where it would be, but we were afraid something would happen to keep him from getting there in time. Having that ring back means so much to him."
The other woman dips her head at me as I look her way. "I'm Rainey. I kind of specialize in finding things. Reconnecting these three with their heritage has been an adventure. And it's worked out in other ways." A hint of pink colors her cheeks. "I'm with Loch."
I nod and look between the two women. "So, everything Liam told me, it's all real, isn't it?"
Cassie grins. "It absolutely is."
Just then, the music changes and the brothers appear in the center of the stage. It's a whirlwind of magic that enchants me from the very beginning to the very end. At the beginning, they throw spheres of light at each other, and at the end, they step into a mirror on the stage and emerge in the center of audience, between the tables. The applause is deafening when they bow and wave goodbye, dashing off to the side as golden coins rain out into the audience. I stay at my table with Cassie and Rainey as the guests leave, filing out in excited groups reliving various parts of the show.
I look around at the women beside me. "That was amazing."
"It always is," Rainey says, standing up as the men walk up to our table. Loch plants a kiss on her cheek. "It was great to meet you, Rachel." She waves goodbye as Lochlan wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her to his side. They leave together.
"We're off, too," Logan says. His eyes are mischievous as he offers me his hand. "Thank you again. We couldn't have done this without you." Cassie beams at me as they walk away hand in hand.
Liam steps up beside me and I turn to look up at him. "This was the best thing I've ever seen. Ever. Really." I'm gushing, but I don't care.
He takes my hand, his eyes focused on the connection between us. "We do shows almost every night. People have loved it since we started and we have a great time coming up with new tricks to show off." His voice turns serious as he runs his thumb over the side of my hand, warmth building up in my core at the slow, sensuous touch. "This place is so important to us. As my magic faded, I started to worry that we'd lose it all. Now, because of you, we don't have to worry about that anymore."
He presses his lips to the top of my hand, and that heat in my belly turns into a fire. The sparks between us earlier had been only a hint at what was to come. When he looks at me, I reach for him and pull his head down, melding my lips with his.
LIAM
When she kisses me, every rational thought I'd had up to that point leaves me and I want more of her. I press my tongue at the seam of her lips and she opens in response, the taste of her flooding through me. Her fingers tangle in my hair as she holds me close. When we finally break away from each other, it's only to catch our breath. I lead her away from the open space, past the dressing rooms to the apartment I share with my brothers. I know they're gone, off spending time with the women they love. And that thought has me looking at Rachel, thinking of the sparks that have already occurred between us, and hoping that finally, my luck has brought me the woman I've wished for all these years.
I kiss her again as we settle down onto the couch and she shivers as I trace my fingers down over her hip. Heat pours from her and my cock is rock hard, straining painfully against the confines of my pants. I want to be inside her, but I need to take this slow. I want to take this slow. But then Rachel slides her hand down my stomach and over the thick bulge and smiles in victory.
"That's flattering," she says, teasing me, and I groan.
"We can stop now, if you want." It takes all the strength I have to get the words out, but I mean them.
She goes still and locks eyes with me. I hold my breath, ready for her to tell me it's time to take her home, but she surprises me yet
again. "If you stop, I'll steal that ring and make you come find me to get it back."
The mock threat hangs between for a second until we both dissolve into laughter. Which leads to me kissing her again. And her undressing me. When we're both completely bare, I follow the line of her neck with my tongue, down over her breasts, tasting each one until her nipples are tight peaks and she is panting with need. Then I kiss my way down over her soft belly and into the wet curls at her core. She bucks up and I lick over her most sensitive spot, savoring the sound of my name as she cries out. I slip a finger into her, and her fingers tighten in my hair, holding on as I stroke back and forth inside her, then add a second finger to stretch her further. I want to prepare her for me, and the taste of her is driving me wild. I increase the speed and satisfaction fuels me as she comes apart beneath me.
She reaches for my cock, wrapping her hand around it and guiding it to her center. I line myself up, my eyes locked with hers as I press into her wet heat. Her eyes drift closed as I reach the end of her and hold there, letting her adjust to my full size. Then I pull out, only to thrust all the way back in until I'm fully seated once again, pulling a gasp from her. That sound unlocks something wild in me and I don't hold back any longer, driving in and out as she clings to me. Her inner walls clamp down on me and it's not long before I know she's close and I speed up, biting my lip as I watch pure pleasure play across her face, watch her reach the edge of it and let go. She screams my name once more and it's all I can take. I pump forward once again and empty myself completely inside her as I kiss her, the connection between us stronger than I dreamed possible.
I roll to the side, cuddling her close with her head on my chest. She runs her fingers over my chest, and it's like the sparks from earlier all over again. I catch her hand in mine and say, "If you do that much more, we'll be right back where we started."
She twists in my arms and looks up at me, her eyes serious. "I have to tell you something."
"What's that?" My voice is calm, but my stomach goes tight with nerves.
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youth, on whom I set great store, said to me, with the utmost modesty, that in Paris it was not customary to plane the plate in the way we did it, and albeit our method seemed very clever, he would undertake to produce the same result without all this planing, and so gain much time.
To this I replied that I should only be too delighted to save any time; so I gave him a pair of vases to do, weighing 20 lbs. a piece, and my models for them. Before my very eyes the youth melted his silver in the way I told above, & cast it between his iron plates. Then he cleaned some of the edges off and set to right away to hammer it into shape & give it its rotundity (of which more anon) without paring it in any way. Both vases he turned out in this way with great care and admirable technique.[135] It is just because in Paris more work of this kind is done than in any other city of the world that the craftsmen, from constant practice, acquire such marvellous technical skill. I should never have believed it had I not seen it for myself. Then, at first, I thought that it was the quality of silver that gave them a vantage, because they work here with a finer quality of silver than anywhere else; but my workman said no, & that silver of baser alloy would serve his purpose equally well. I tried him and found that it was so. From which I conclude, therefore, that a man can start straight away with shaping what he wants out of his silver without wasting needless time in planing it up first. Of course care has to be taken to remove certain little blemishes[136] from time to time. I do not go so far as to say that it is bad to plane the metal first: nay, I have found either way good.
Now let us consider how to make a vase in the shape of an egg. I follow, as always, my promised method of giving you of my own creations for different princes & great persons. In Rome I made, among many other vases, two big ones in the form of an egg each about a cubit high, with lips and handles spreading out from the top. [137] One was for the Bishop of Salamanca, a Spaniard, and the other for Cardinal Cibo; both were elaborately ornamented with foliage and animals of various kinds. These vases were called ewers,[138] and were used by the Cardinals on their credence tables on occasions of state.
Inasmuch as I made numbers of these for King Francis, in Paris, and as they were all larger and more richly wrought, I shall draw my illustrations from them. You take your plate & trim off the rough edges, plane it on both sides, & slightly round the edges off,[139] and forasmuch as the plates are cast in somewhat oblong shapes, you beat them into a rounded shape with your hammer, and this is how you do it: you take your red hot plate, not too red, for then it would crack,[140] but sufficient, I would say, to burn certain little grains of powder or dust thrown on to it; & put it on the stake, and you beat it very firmly with the thin end of the hammer from one angle to the other driving the metal well to the centre,[141] so that when all the four corners of your plate are done it will be marked somewhat the shape of a cross.[142] After this you reverse the process and work with the hammer outwards, annealing the plate some four times, till it is of such roundness as your good craftsman may see fit. And when it is rounded into the shape of the vase you have in mind you must see that the measurement of the diameter of your plate exceeds that of the future vase by about three fingers, and that the plate must be kept as thick as possible in the middle. Before you hit this size exactly you take an iron stake about a finger thick and six fingers long, as blunt as possible so as not to pierce the plate, this tool you put with its broad end on the anvil, and you very carefully balance[143] your silver plate on the point of the stake until it stands steady by its own weight. When the point is fixed, get one of your handy lads to strike it with the broad end of the hammer so that it makes a mark in the plate. I have no doubt there are masters who can find the centre point straight away without having recourse to this little dodge, especially when working on small plates, but for large pieces I have always found it very helpful. After this you turn the plate round again on the anvil & strike it in the same manner on the stake till the point, which so far was only indicated, is now boldly marked. Then you take your compasses & strike a circle which will show you how far your outline is out, and so on, hammering the silver in conformity with it by repeated heating and beating. All the while you have to be very careful not to lose your centre point, and to beat the silver out, as I said before, so that the diameter of the plate exceeds that of the future vase by some three fingers. Applying your compasses again,
you strike a series of concentric circles about a half a finger apart from each other, & starting from the centre of the cup. Then you take a kind of hammer about one finger thick at the narrow end, and oneand-a-half at the broad end; this hammer is battered and rounded off[144] into somewhat the shape of the fleshy part of a finger, and with it you begin beating in the middle of the plate, at the centre point in fact, being careful always not to lose the point. The movement of the hammer should be in the form of a spiral,[145] and follow the concentric circles; you take turn about in beating and heating in this manner till you see the silver grow into the shape of a hat, or at least its crown,[146] & thus approximating to the form of your vase. The thing to observe is that the metal should spread equally all round, for if it gives more on one side than the other it would be uneven; and in this way you draw it inwards till it is as deep as the body of your model requires. Then with various different stakes, each adapted specially to the form you are at work on, you beat, now with the broad, now with the narrow end of the hammer, and right into the body of your vase till it is equally bellied all round; and when this has all been very carefully done, always working on the stakes—some of which are called ‘cows’ tongues’[147] because of their shape—you work up the neck of the vase to the necessary height, and similarly on other stakes specially curved for the purpose, you little by little narrow out the neck. Any little imperfections[148] on the surface you remove as you go on, and so finally see the neck of the vase take the perfect shape you wish it to have.
When you have thus finished the neck, you can begin to work the bas-relief on the body of the vase; like a vase, for instance, that I made for King Francis,[149] it was one among many, but it was the finest of the lot. I filled it with black pitch made in the manner I described to you before, then I divided out the body of the vase for the figures, animals & leaves, which I drew on it with a stylus of burnished steel. This done, I drew them over again with pen & ink, using all the delicacy that good drawing requires. Then I took my punches, these are of iron, about the length of a finger and about the thickness of a goose’s quill. They are all shaped in different ways, some are fashioned like a C, beginning with a small c, and ending with a large one,[150] some are bent more, some less, and some are
almost quite straight.[151] Others, again, are greater, diminishing from the size of a man’s thumb to six different smaller sizes, and all these selections you ought to have. With them, and with a hammer weighing some three or four ounces, and striking most dexterously, you beat into relief whatever you have designed. Then you place your vase on a slow fire and melt out the pitch. After this you heat the vase once more and clean it with a solution of tartar and salt, in equal proportions as I described above. When the vase is quite clean you employ a set of iron tools like stakes and with long horns, [152] technically termed caccianfuori , ‘snarling irons’: they are made of pure iron, long or short as the case may be, and as the work may need. These caccianfuori have to be fastened into the anvil stock,[153] then you put one of the horns into the vase, so that the point of the horn, which should be in shape and rounded like your little finger, is applied to the inside of the vase, & to the parts you want to beat out; and you very gently strike the other end of it with the hammer so that the blow passing to the end of the horn adjoining the body of the vase, bosses up the silver from within at such points as your learned and cunning master may deem well. When this process has been applied to all the figures, animals, and foliage, you heat and cleanse the vase once more, once more fill it with pitch, and with other sorts of punches, similar in all respects to the first, but having their ends shaped like beans, and large or small as the case may be, you begin the bossing again. Each master uses his own particular punches, & all have their own little ways of working, but all have this in common that the punches do not cut but only press the metal. The process of melting out & re-applying the pitch may now be repeated two or three times as may be thought necessary, till you have got your figures and foliage to the highest point of workmanship, then melt it out for the last time. After this you may proceed to fashion in wax whatever graces may have place at lip or handle, improving on the model or design with which you started. These finished, you can make them in all sorts of different ways, ways so many, that they were wearisome to recount. The easiest of these was the one I usually employed, and particularly in the vase I made for King Francis.[154] I took earth, such as the makers of artillery use, dried it and sifted it well, then I mixed it with fine cloth shearings and a little
cows’ dung sifted through a sieve, then I beat it all well together After this I took some tripoli, such as jewellers use to polish their gems with, pounded it up very fine & made from it a pigment as for painting, streaking it over the wax ornaments. This I also did to the inlet holes and vent channels after I had duly affixed them to the models. I always took care to fix these vent holes down below, and pass them upwards, but at such distance from the inlet channel that none of the silver should spill into them, and thus prevent them doing their work. When I had applied the first coat of tripoli I let it dry. Then I took the clay of which I told you before & coated the work over to the thickness of a knife’s back, letting it dry again, and repeating this process, till the different coats were about a finger thick. Then I bound it all round with iron bands as many as it could hold, over these iron bands I put more coats of clay, this time mixed up with rather more cloth shearings than I had used previously, & applied another coat again of a knife’s back thickness. Then I applied the whole to a slow fire, holding the vent holes downwards, and so gradually melted out the wax, which I caught in a little receptacle down beneath. One has to be very careful not to have the fire too hot, for that would make the wax bubble, and so damage the mould within. When the wax is quite melted out, you remove the mould from where it is attached to the vase, clean it carefully of all wax, and close up the place where it is attached to the vase with the same earth that is used above. This done, you bind the whole thing round again with fine bands of iron wire, & cover it up completely with a further coating of the tripoli mixture. Then you heat it on charcoal, firing it and the charcoal together in a brick furnace; and mind to get it well baked, for this kind of earth differs from others, in that it should all be fired at one turn. Meantime, have your silver ready for casting, or I would say molten, and while this is in progress put your mould into a large receptacle filled with sand, which should be moist, not wet; & fix it in well as do the casters of artillery into their troughs, but with the greater delicacy that the handling of lighter metal requires. [155] When your silver is well molten, throw finely powdered tartar over it to keep it fresh. Then take a piece of linen, the size of the crucible, folded into four and soaked with olive oil, and spread it over the tartar that covers the silver; and grip the crucible with the tongs
called imbracciatoie You ought to have many kinds of these, small, medium, great, and adaptable to the quantity of silver you have to melt; they hold the crucible together and prevent it breaking—that happened to me many a time. Just as you’ve got your silver nicely molten and are pouring it into the mould, crack goes your crucible, and all your work and time and pains are lost! Take note therefore of this, while pouring your silver into the mould, let one of your assistants hold the linen rag from slipping from the crucible, for by so holding the rag on, it has two good results; it keeps the silver warm and it prevents the little bits of coal from falling into the mould. This also you may take note of: if you have little masks and such-like conceits to apply to your vase, when you have fashioned them all carefully in wax and taken them off the vase having made moulds of them as above described, you lay in the hollow of the moulds a coating of wax, a thin knife’s back more or less in thickness, or of such thickness as you wish your mask to be. This coating you spread equally all over. In the craft it is called the lasagna. When you have fixed on to it the inlet channel & the vent holes—just as I told you above, the latter fixed at the bottom & turning to the top—you fill in the whole with the clay, bind around with wire, and cast in the same way as before.[156] This method you can employ in the handles & the feet of your vase, where you find the hammer difficult to work with, and I counsel you in working large vases always to employ this method of casting.
FOOTNOTES:
[129] Meglio e’ si condensa
[130] Rasoio: literally ‘a razor.’
[131] Vuole essere piegato tre dite: perhaps, ‘inclined ’
[132] This may mean only hatching or cutting generally.
[133] Conficcare o congegnare
[134] Mr. Heywood Summer tells me that the tool here described is not used in modern sgraffito work; it would by the description, however, be something like the diagram here shown.
Diagram illustrating the rasoio for paring metal
[135] Pratica
[136] Sfogliette: probably little surface scalings of the metal.
[137] Strette di sopra
[138] Aquereccie.
[139] Alquanto scantonato un poco
[140] Spezzerebbe.
[141] E far che l’entri bene
[142] Verrà ferito in riscontro di croce.
[143] Si congegna
[144] Scantonato e tonda.
[145] Chioccola. We had the word above as applied to the female screw.
[146] Coppa.
[147] Lingua di vacca.
[148] Sfogliettina.
[149] See ‘Vita,’ p. 321.
[150] What our metal workers call semi-ring tools
[151] Curved chasers.
[152] Con le corne lunghe
[153] Brinckman translates, ‘a vice.’
[154] This is the ordinary ‘cire perdue’ process
[155] i.e., smaller work.
[156] This is probably what we should call a cored casting.
GREATER THAN LIFE SIZE.
Now as to the way of making a great statue of silver; and when I say a great statue I mean as big as a live man or bigger. Statues of oneand-a-half cubits high I have of course seen plenty of in Rome on the altar of St. Peter’s, and albeit the making of these is pretty difficult and many excellent masters employ on them much admirable work, still these smaller statues present no great difficulties in the way of soldering, because they can be handled in the furnace entire; moreover they are made of thinner plates[158] of silver than the large ones. The actual process of both is much the same, but the large ones are so much harder to manage that I for my part have never seen any that were presentable. According to my promise of giving you some practical example either of work I have seen of others or of my own making, I’ll tell you the following.
The Emperor Charles V. was passing through France in the time of Francis I., for the great war had ended, and Francis, my glorious king, among the other wonderful presents he had given to the Emperor, gave him a silver statue of a Hercules with two columns, which was about three and a half cubits high. You remember how I described above the beauty of all the things made in that great city of Paris—well, I have never seen anywhere else in the world such perfect hammer work as in that city, but with all their technique (in the methods of embossing) not even the best masters were able to give to that statue either grace, beauty or style;[159] and for the simple reason that they did not know how to solder properly, and so had to stick on the legs and the head and the arms by means of fastening[160] them with silver wire. Now King Francis wanted to have eleven statues like this made, and he complained to me that those men of his had not been able to undertake such a job, and he asked
me if it lay in the art to do it & if I saw my way through. I replied that most assuredly did I see my way through, that I could do these things much better than talk about them, and that when done they would be one hundred times finer than was anticipated. And this was the way in which I began explaining it to that great king, and quoth I:
‘There are many different ways of doing the thing & each master chooses the method to which his technical excellence or his fancy guides him. First of all you make a statue in clay of the size you want your silver statue to be, then you make a gesso mould of it in many pieces, and this is the way: The whole breast to the middle of the ribs at the sides, & to the juncture of the throat above & the legs at the groining below, forms one piece. The next piece comprises the back from the juncture of the neck and contains the shoulders and down to the buttocks. These are the two main pieces. In like manner must the arms, legs, and head all be formed into two pieces. And because the undercuttings would impede the removal of the pieces, these are filled up with wax. The gesso moulds are then respectively cast in bronze. And you have your sheet of silver handy of such size as may be deemed expedient by the skilful master, & commence to hammer it over the bronze with wooden hammers, carefully rounding the silver over the various forms; by means of frequent annealing these forms come to be beautifully covered. The discreet and cunning master in order to just connect separate pieces together[161] applies a few additional hammer strokes to their edges, and expands them to about two knife backs one over the other. These edges he cuts into jags about two fingers apart with a pair of scissors, fits the one into the other, and with nice judgment tightens them with a hammer, holding them over a round stake, or some other piece of iron as shall hinder the hammer from indenting the silver where it has nothing to back it. In this way all the pieces are done, first the body, then the legs, arms and head. After this they are filled with pitch, and wrought over with hammer & punches to an exact likeness with the original clay model, & finally soldered together into one.’
When I had delivered myself of these words to the King, he said it was all so clear & he had understood it all so well that he very nearly thought he would himself be able to undertake such work. Then I told
his Majesty that there were other methods which a master thoroughly conversant with his craft might employ, and that these methods were really easier in execution though they seemed harder of explanation. Whereupon his Majesty retorted that verily he was a great lover of genius,[162] that I had spoken so convincingly of the first that he would willingly take my word for the other.
One of them was as follows: when I had cast the King’s silver into sheets in the way I told above, and had my clay model of the subsequent size of the silver ready completed, I went straight at the job, with sheer ability of hammer work[163] together with my general skill of craftsmanship, striking from front and from back in whatever way the art demanded. By this method I got through much quicker than the first. Arms, legs and body I hammered out in separate pieces, and the head in one whole piece just as it were a vase, & in the manner I told of once before. When I had given them all their shape I soldered & fitted them together as before. The solder I used was ottavo, that is a solder composed of one-eighth part of an ounce of copper to one of silver. To do the soldering I had fixed to the tube of my big bellows several channels of such length as I deemed necessary for the purpose of blowing from below on the beds of coal that I had placed under the back of my work. When this and the coal was aglow, that is, of a golden colour, I blew the bellows on it gradually and made the solder run, and I kept on with this, now applying it from above, now from below, wherever I thought it necessary, and going from point to point.[164] I have said nothing about borax, for it stands to reason, as anyone who knows anything about his business is aware, that no soldering can be done without it. If it turn out that, owing to the length of the pieces, some of them are not completely soldered and that fresh solder and borax is needed, I used instead of water to take a bit of tallow candle in order not to have to cool the whole of my large piece, & on this ointment I put my new solder and borax, and this had the same effect as the water. Thus did I solder all the different members, head, arms, feet, each for itself, filled them with pitch, & with my punches gave the last finish but one[165] to my work. Then came the job of soldering the big pieces together, & that was where those great French experts failed.
I built in the middle of one of my large rooms—and I mean exactly in the middle—a little wall about one cubit from the ground, four cubits long, and one-and-a-half wide; and after fitting the parts to the body I bound them on with silver wire instead of iron wire which is usually employed, and in this way, doing three fingers’ width at a time, and not without the greatest difficulty, I bound the two legs to the body. Then I laid it on the wall over a good fire, and applied quinto to it, i.e., solder composed of one-fifth of an ounce of copper to one of silver— I say copper not bronze,[166] because copper is easier to treat with the punches and holds better, albeit it does not run quite so easily As I worked with eleven-and-a-half silver to half copper[167] I had nothing to fear as far as the latter was concerned; & I would have everyone aware that if he wish to make his job succeed he must not employ inferior silver.
When my work lay in position I began, with four of my young men, to blow the fire with the aid of fans and hand-bellows until I saw the solder run, when I every now and then sprinkled a little soft ash over it, for if one were to use water instead of ash, one would not be able to add fresh solder where the old has run imperfectly. In this manner, following just the method I have described, I happily succeeded in soldering the whole piece with breast, legs, arms, & head; & ere ever a piece cooled I managed to solder it on; the whole thing succeeded most admirably, & was just lovely! So the entire statue, which was about four cubits high, was lifted off the fire all soldered; I cleaned it up with the tools for cleaning, which I described before, filled it with pitch, and gave it the final polish with the punches. Then I fixed it on a base of bronze, the latter about two-thirds of a cubit high, with sundry little subjects in bas-relief gilded and beautifully executed. The statue in question was a figure of Jupiter[168] holding the lightning bolt in his right hand, and from the lightning a torch was kindled; in his left he held a ball to symbolise the world. Round the head and the feet was abundance of ornamental detail; & all this was admirably gilded, the which was most difficult to do.
Nor will I omit to tell how I cleaned[169] up the silver of so large a piece of work, albeit I have already described to you the process of cleaning silver, for there were exceptional difficulties in this case. I
did it thuswise: I went to the shop of a dyer of woollen cloth and got one of his big vessels,[170] large enough to put my figure in, which, as I said, was about four cubits high, and weighed about 300 lbs.; then I took four iron rods, each about four cubits long, and four chestnut staves, somewhat longer than the iron rods. When the figure was carefully cleaned of its solder, and made smooth and polished and carefully pumiced over, we lifted it with the four iron rods on to a big bed of coal spread out on the ground, and large enough to hold the figure. This we did not do, however, till the coals were burnt out, had lost their vigour, and were well spent; then we covered the figure all over, shovelling the embers upon it, a very tiring job this, as you may imagine, because of the heat and fume of the embers. We went on shovelling them about over the statue wherever the need was, till the whole piece was of an equal red heat all over. Then we raised it with the four iron rods, let it cool, and when it was cold had ready our vessel[171] with the blanching solution,[172] that is to say, water with tartar and salt composed as I described to you above, and into it we placed the figure by means of the four wooden staves, for the solution must not be touched by iron. When inside we stirred it about and scrubbed it all over with certain big hog sable brushes much like those used for whitening walls & objects of similar size. When we saw it getting white, we took it with great care out of this vessel and put it into another similar one, but filled with pure water, & here we carefully washed all the blanching solution off it. Then we poured off the water and dried it very carefully; after which we set to gilding whatever parts had to be gilded. Though the gilding of this statue was a much harder job than you can possibly imagine, I do not intend here to enter into those difficulties of detail, but will confine myself to saying a word or two about gilding in general. Forsooth, it is a beautiful and marvellous craft this, & it well becomes your big masters to know of it, so that they may guide such as practise professionally. I knew many, both in France and in Rome, who applied themselves only to gilding. But none the less I say that great masters ought not to practise this themselves, for the quicksilver that has to be used for it is a deadly[173] poison, and so wears out the men that practise in it that they live but a few years.
FOOTNOTES:
[158] Lamine.
[159] From the point of view of the Italian cinquecento Master it would be correct thus to render the word ‘arte’ in this context
[160] ‘Legar la’ Brinckman translates ‘rivetting.’
[161] I am not sure whether this gives the right shade of meaning to ‘attestarsi, ’ but I follow Brinckman
[162] Virtù.
[163] Virtù del martello
[164] E nulla spequevo, etc. I take this to mean that he moved the heat of the flame about and about from point to point.
[165] Penultima mana
[166] Ottone. Cellini would have used the pure copper, not any alloy, for this purpose.
[167] Argento di undici leghe e mezzo Twelve being quite pure, this would give about as little alloying metal as will work well.
[168] See references to this in the ‘Vita,’ p. 145, and elsewhere.
[169] Bianchire.
[170] Caldare.
[171] Caldare.
[172] Bianchimento.
[173] Smisurato: Cellini refers to the fumes.
