Journeys are a feature of my Gingerbread Bride novella in the Bluestocking Belles Christmas box set (Mistletoe, Marriage, and Mayhem). But—as you’d expect when our theme is runaway brides—journeys appear in the other novellas, too. Launch is this weekend, so this is my last chance to call it a work in progress!
Before now, I’ve posted excerpts where Rick first sees Mary walking through a field after her coach breaks a wheel, and where Mary and her maid are trapped in a runaway chaise, so here is a bit from a somewhat tamer part of Mary’s travels. Please feel free to post ten lines or so (I went for ‘or so’!) from your own work in progress, and don’t forget to share!
By the time they stopped for a bite to eat in the early afternoon, Rick’s pallor had increased alarmingly, and he’d been clenching the front of the bench for more than an hour, his knuckles white with the force of his grip.
He managed a slow, awkward descent from the carriage and twisted his mouth into a shadow of his usual jaunty grin when he caught Mary’s concerned frown.
“I’m feeling a bit battered, Mary, but no harm done.”
Mary felt a bit battered herself. The carriage was not called a bounder for nothing.
“Let us take our meal in the garden, so we can stroll a little,” she suggested, “unless… should you be sitting down, Rick? Or lying even? We could enquire about a room.”
“A walk would be just the thing,” Rick assured her.
Mary sent Polly off to order sustenance. “We will eat in the garden, Polly. I can see tables under the trees. Order for three. You’ll eat with us.”
Rick opened the gate from the inn-yard to the garden, and Mary went through it on his arm, trying to support him as much as she could without being obvious.
Another guest was before them, sitting at one of the tables and staring disconsolately at the small, dirty pond that adorned one corner.
“What is the matter?” Rick asked. Mary realized she had halted and was clutching his arm in a death grip. She willed herself to relax.
From Shipmate, which will be coming out Nov. 27. 🙂
Watching the pier grow smaller by the league, Bella stood staring over the side of the Amelia, the frigate that was now her home. Beside her, Lord Holsworthy—no, Myron—placed his hand over hers, squeezing the fingers gently. Neither said a word, but when a tear rolled down her cheek, he brushed it away with his thumb, and curled a comforting arm around her shoulders. They had never stood so close together, but she hid her face in his shoulder, sobbing, “I’ll never see them again. They are the only family I have.”
“Ah, ah, my dear. Now, that is not true.” He chucked her under the chin, looking into her watery eyes. “As you now have me to call family, and soon a babe, should the Lord be willing.”
I like Myron. A lot.
Me, too. 🙂
This is from my Valentine themed cozy mystery-
Stepping into an alcove while still able to keep a keen eye on her he waited. When she approached, then took a seat next to the Countess of Banworth, Matt knew an introduction might be possible. It had been only when the earl joined his wife was Matt positive he could learn the lady’s name. Not only that, share a dance, a waltz he hoped.
Levering himself off the wall he wound his way around to where they were seated. As he’d got closer, Matt noticed the young lady raise, open her fan then place it in front of her face. This simple act had him wondering why, after all she was a diamond of the first order.
Matt stepped up and bowed to the earl and countess.
“M’ lord and lady, would you permit me to be introduced to the young lady?”
“Lord Matthew, I don’t believe one is necessary as you both have met before,” the earl stated.
Glancing down to her Matt watched as she slowly lowered her fan, first exposing her eyes—blue as the sky on a warm sunny day. He’d seen that exact shade before, but couldn’t remember when or where. It wasn’t until she’d brought the fan lower letting him see her nose, petit with a light brown freckle at its tip did he know her. France. And the man they’d hunted separately but together. However, he’d never had a chance to learn her name.
“You are correct m’ lord. Unfortunately, as time was of the essence we never exchanged names. Not that they would have been true,” Matt softly said.
“Then Lord Matthew Howe may I present our daughter, Lady Jessica Roper,” the earl declared.
“M’ lady. It’s a pleasure to finally and formally meet you,” Matt announced, giving her a bow.
Ah, I am intrigued, Lindsay. So her father knows of her activities?
Have shared your page on twitter. A little something from my WNRTBR (Work nearly ready to be released!) – “Alfreda sang quietly while she worked with the batches of wool. The rhythmic movement of the carding combs moving back and forth in her hands was familiar from childhood and now, as then, she was soothed by the pulsing regularity of the action. She sat slightly apart from the other women. She was still unsure how much they knew or guessed and she wished neither to insult them by pretending, nor to reveal the truth if they were not already aware. Thus rendered dumb, she worked alone, speaking only when she needed some more wool to work on. She had almost finished the latest lot when she heard the shouting. She was always frightened by the yelling, but now her hand went quickly to her belly in an instinctively protective gesture.”
Welcome, Annie, and thank you for sharing. I certainly want to know what happens next!