Miss Tilling was attired in a russet-coloured travelling gown. It was trimmed with green braid and complemented with a matching bonnet that struggled to contain an abundance of wayward auburn curls. Several had escaped and trailed across her shoulders in arresting spirals, but if Miss Tilling noticed their rebellious turn she did not attempt to rectify the situation. To Alex’s eye her costume appeared rather grand for a governess. He would have expected something more serviceable and less fashionable, but the colour became her so well that he did not dwell upon the incongruity.
The girl was exceptionally thin and walked slowly up the steps to the door, which Phelps was holding open for her. She leaned heavily on the coachman’s arm the whole time. Alex raised a brow. Either she really was unwell or she was an exceptional actress. She drew closer to his vantage point and he suspected it was the former, as what little he could see of her face beneath the wide brim of her bonnet was deathly pale.
As though sensing his presence, she lifted her head and turned it in his direction. Alex let out an oath of astonishment. He had not been prepared to encounter such wild beauty. His preconceived notion that all governesses had a duty to be unremarkable was immediately brought into question.
She looked exhausted, ready to drop with fatigue. An air of vulnerability clung to her and her expression hinted at a great sadness. It overwhelmed him with a sudden desire to banish whatever demons afflicted her and persuade her to smile. Her features softened by a genuine smile would, he suspected, be an experience worth the effort required to bring it about. He quickly suppressed the thought. She was to be a temporary guest in his house, a house in which he would spend precious little time over the next few weeks. Provided Miss Tilling proved to be an acceptable companion for his mother, naturally. Miss Tilling resumed her ascent of the steps and he could no longer see her face, but that was no impediment to his imagination. Her arresting eyes lingered in his mind, tormenting him with their compelling expression. They were quite the most remarkable eyes he had ever encountered.
If this creature really had been dismissed from her position, Alex had no difficulty believing that a jealous wife had seized upon her illness as an excuse to remove temptation from her husband’s path. What man worthy of the name would be able to resist the allure of such exquisitely orchestrated features, enhanced by those damned eyes? They were expressive pools, blinking with a combination of curiosity and intelligence as she took in her surroundings.
But what colour were they? For some inexplicable reason it was important he should know. Hazel to complement the hue of her hair, he would be willing to wager. What he did know was that in the brief seconds they had turned in his direction, he could feel the weight of a great sorrow in their reflection. Something more than a slight fever afflicted this child if he was any judge. Once again he felt the overpowering need toa ct as her protector. For the second time in less than a minute he found himself desirous of witnessing her remarkable features enhanced by a smile…

Here's the Question: What colour did Alex imagine Miss Tilling’s eyes would be?

E mail your answer to : wendysoliman@rocketmail.com. The first correct entry to be drawn will receive a free copy of A Reason to Rebel. Entries close 30th April 2009.

Good luck!