Today I’d like to you to post an excerpt of a hero and heroine’s first meeting from the hero’s POV. It doesn’t have to be in person. As always the excerpt can be from other media, yours or someone else’s work. Try to keep it on the short side if you can.
Here’s mine from Lady Caro’s Accidental Marriage.
The end of August, 1816, Palazzo Laughton, Venice, Italy
“La Valle, who is here?” A low musical, voice, floated down.
At the top of the marble stairs, stood the most beautiful creature Huntley had ever beheld. At first he thought she was a figment of his imagination. Shaking his head, he blinked before gazing at her again. No, he was right the first time. Fair, flaxen hair curled around her face. The eyes fixed on him were wide and set under perfectly arched brows… and Lord— her lips. There was only one good use for them. Kissing.
His body hardened as if it hadn’t had a woman in months, which was certainly not the case. She was so exquisite, even the heavy frown marring her countenance couldn’t make her less than beautiful. Only his old nurse had frowned at him like that, but it hadn’t made him want to…
ellaquinnauthor
Ella Quinn ~ Author 
Well, Ella, you know how much I love Huntley. i think this is a great first impression meeting between a hero and heroine. It’s mysterious, a bit magical and full of promise, which is what every great story needs to have that special spark.
Here’s the first impression from my novel Godric. The hero, Godric has just abducted the heroine Emily, to ransom her for money that her uncle stole from Godric.
“She’s not at all like her uncle,” Godric observed quietly, as he took in the dirty but stunning little captive at his feet.
Heat pooled deep inside him. His brief memory of her had not done justice to the puzzle of Miss Emily Parr. He couldn’t forget the way she’d fought him, even in fear. Godric had never been the sort to terrorize women, and knowing he’d scared her left a hollowness in his chest. He had expected to ignore her protestations and carry her off. What he hadn’t expected was for Emily to fight valiantly against him and leave him every inch the villain.
Cedric stuffed the bottle of laudanum back into his waistcoat pocket. “Having seconds thoughts?”
Godric barked out a laugh, attempting to shrug off his guilt. “Lord, no, you know me too well, Cedric. She’s mine now. If Parr wants her back, he’ll pay.” He glanced at Emily again.
Charles’s eyes cruised over Emily’s prone body. “Godric, if you don’t want her, I’d be happy to take her off your hands.”
It was instinct that led Godric to step in front of her, cutting his friend from further view. He felt oddly possessive of Emily, not that he had any right to. Still, it angered him to think other men might look at her. His sudden urge to deposit the girl in a walled garden appealed greatly. Trap her in a tower like the fair sleeping beauty, where only he could awaken her with his kiss.
“There’ll be no chance of that, Charles. The girl’s intrigued him,” Lucien said.
Godric gathered Emily into his arms.
He knew he must look a strange sight to his friends, taking such care with Emily. But something about her called to him. He ached for soft touches, the slide of satin sheets against his skin and her silky body beneath his own. He wanted to share a bed with this woman, curl his body around hers and breathe in her flowery scent.
Great first impresson, Lauren. Thank you.
That was a great first impression. I’ve got nothing to share. 😦
Marika
Marika, Thanks for coming by.
Fun post, Ella!! You always great ideas for us to participate in! Loved both of these! Here’s mine from my debut release titled Hard Core coming October 8!
Slade heard her crashing through the jungle before he saw her.
His hands were the only weapon he had and they shook too damn much to do him any good. He’d lost the AK-47 somewhere in the jungle. He didn’t remember putting it down, but the weapon was gone. The bullet he’d taken must have done more damage than he’d thought. Felt like the damn thing was still lodged. He couldn’t afford a infection in this environment.
Crouched low, he waited, hands poised to defend against whoever came toward him. The lantern, a beacon in the night, wavered, then fell.
In his narrowing vision he saw her and blinked, certain he hallucinated. The
woman stopped a few feet away, her fiery red hair, aflame in the light, clinging to her shoulders in wet strands. Slender and lithe, her startled gaze trapped him.
He must be imagining things. Lost too much blood. This was a remote island in
the Caribbean Sea. Only one man lived here. The one he was supposed to kill. And would still eliminate as soon as he felt better.
Maybe he hadn’t made it off Ross’s estate after all. Must be dying in the bastard’s basement and she was a figment of his imagination.
He’d always liked redheads.
This could be a ploy. Ross may have sent this redheaded beauty to kill him. For most men, women were a weakness, but not Slade. He’d put a wall around his heart long ago. He could go long periods without sex. He’d gone this long, he’d go longer. Ross would be disappointed when Slade sent this one back.
He wasn’t going to wait for her to take him out first. Gathering his waning
strength, he attacked.
Thanks Ella! That was fun!
Great job, Jennifer. I’m glad you like my blog ideas.
Great excerpt once again, Ella! I truly love your writing style 🙂
Dana, thank you so much. That means a lot to me.
Love that Huntley. It’s great when there’s an instant physical attraction.
Here’s mine:
Griffin caught his breath as Diana tilted her head back to look up at him, a questioning smile tugging at her willful mouth. Fire-blond curls snaked down her bare shoulders as the glittering emeralds at her throat vied with her green eyes.
The remarkable thing about his cousin Vivien’s friend was how completely unconscious she seemed to be of her striking loveliness. She remained free of the coy shrugs and sidelong glances other women affected. Instead, Diana addressed him directly, all the while keeping him at a distance with her sharp wit.
Under any other circumstance, he might have been tempted to breach this distance if he thought he might have a chance at winning her. If she were not so very dangerous to him.
Oooh. Very nice, Angelyn. Great job.
This excerpt comes from Book 4 of the Realm Series, “A Touch of Grace”
“I want to know of this horse’s rider,” Gabriel told the young boy who had rushed forward to take Balder’s reins. He had found his attacker’s mount. The man could not be far.
The boy rubbed Balder’s nose. “The cream?” The youth looked over his shoulder at the animal he had just placed in the third stall. “His master fell and hurt ’is shoulder. Mistress Bradshaw be doctoring’ ’im in the kitchen.”
Gabriel leaned heavily against Balder’s side. Normally, he oversaw his horse’s care, but not this evening. Tonight, he would trust the boy to see to Balder. He tossed the boy a coin. “Give him some extra oats and brush him, and you’ll receive another coin for your efforts.” Gabriel swallowed the pain radiating through his chest. “And another if you inform me immediately if the cream’s owner chooses to leave the inn.”
“Aye, Sir.” The boy’s eyes grew in anticipation. “I be finding’ you, Sir.”
Gabriel shuffled toward the partially opened stable door. Where the bullet rested in his chest burned with hell’s fire. He had managed to stay alive despite his enemy’s best efforts. Despite God’s plan for him to join his parents. Slowly. Methodically, he turned his feet toward the inn. If he were to meet his Maker, he would do so in a clean bed.
Grace stepped from the wooden walkway, which ran along the inn’s front and turned her steps toward the stable. She had no desire to be out of view of the busy inn yard. Hostlers rushed to and fro to aid those seeking shelter before nightfall. She would discover what animals the inn housed for the mail line, as well as examining the mounts of her fellow travelers. Anything to pass the time.
Yet, as she reached the stable’s main door, it swung wide, and a man in a finely fitted coat staggered toward her. At first, she had thought to turn on her heels to make a speedy escape, but then a face of an Adonis stilled her. She had seen him before–only once. In London. At the party at Carlton House. “Lord Godown,” she gasped, and then observed the painful grimace as he pitched forward. Grace instinctively caught him, shoving him backward to brace him against the building. “My Lord, you are unwell!” she said anxiously. He used his free hand to steady himself against the door. “Permit me to find assistance.” Her hand rested on his arm, and Grace heard the hiss as he looked out over the inn yard. She imagined that he judged how many steps it would take to achieve the inn’s door.
“No,” he insisted. With a deep inhale, he said, “Can you lead me to the inn?”
Without considering her actions, Grace laced his arm about her shoulder to brace his weight against her frame. She had never felt such panic. When she had first laid eyes on this man–some six months prior–she had considered his Christian name and how perfectly it fit his handsome countenance. Gabriel. The angel. The avenging angel, but an angel, nonetheless. “Lord Godown, please,” she whispered hoarsely as his heavy tread nearly took both of them to their knees. “Allow me to find someone more fit to assist you.”
A barely perceptible shake of his head declared his refusal. Grace’s bonnet shifted forward as his arm pressed heavy on her shoulders. He continued his jerky steps toward his goal–another ten feet to the walkway.
Finally, she shoved up on his arm to bracket his weight against the building’s side. Sliding free of his grasp, she turned to examine him more closely. In the darkening shadows, she realized his hair was sweaty and windblown, and dirt streaked his clothes’ fine cut. Then she saw the trickle of blood darkening his shirt. “Oh, my God!” she rasped as she reached for her linen to press to the opening. “Tell me what has happened.”
Head back and eyes closed, he appeared unable to answer, but he finally spit out the words. “Trailed my attacker to this inn.” Grace looked on in wonderment as he took a deep steadying breath. “You did not faint from the blood.”
“No, my Lord.” Grace pulled a second cloth from her reticule. She pressed it firmly over the first.
“Do you have a room?” he asked through gritted teeth.
Grace doubly regretted her unmarried status. If she had proper quarters, she could tend his wounds in private. She shook her head in the negative. “The innkeeper will not let to a woman without companionship. I will spend the night in the common room.”
Crowden nodded weakly. “Would you share my room?” He caught her gaze, and the clarity surprised her. “If you have a husband whom you were to meet on the road…” He did not finish his thoughts as the pain snatched his breath away. Frantically, he caught at her hand. He said softly, “I do not wish to die alone.”
Grace recognized his proposition to be a scandalous one, but she had accepted the inevitable conclusion the moment she had draped Gabriel Crowden’s arm about her. She had willingly participated in her reputation’s ruination. The fear she recognized in his gaze stayed her. This man carried death about his strong, muscular shoulders. “Yes, I will stay with you, Lord Godown,” she said without hesitation.
“You have called me by name three times. Do we have a prior acquaintance?” She noted how he stood taller.
Grace blushed as disappointment filled her. Why would an “Adonis” remember someone as nondescript as she? “Grace…Miss Grace Nelson. Lord Averette once served as my employer.”
Lord Godown cupped her face as if seeing it for the first time. “Miss Nelson. Of course.” He stroked her mouth with the thumb of his left hand. “Just what I need. A touch of grace.”
Regina, that was so good. Thanks for sharing.
Great job!
Mine is from Wild Horses, my new release!
He thought about the woman who picked him up out of the middle of the road. Almost unconscious when she rescued him, he remembered thinking her long brown hair looked like a burning fire as she bent over him silhouetted in the dying sun. Her T-shirt had clung to her breasts, and he remembered the way they pressed into his back when she helped him into her truck.
Too bad he hadn’t been awake when she undressed him.
LOL. Wonderful, D’Ann. Loved that last bit.
Wonderful first impression, Ella. I can’t wait to read Lady Caro. These other impressions are fantastic as well.
Here’s Duncan’s first impression of Katarina (before he knew she was Lady Katarina):
The slave was dressed in an almost transparent white gown, in flowing Grecian style, its folds torn in places and streaked with dirt. A daringly low bodice displayed full, enticing breasts, with a hint of dark nipples showing through the gauzy fabric. When she’d been flung to the floor, the straight tunic had revealed generous curves at her hips and buttocks.
Duncan’s labored breathing sounded harsh in his ears, drowning out the rest of the clamoring patrons. When he tried to swallow, he found his mouth so dry he had to peel his tongue from the roof.
The scenario itself did not appeal to him, but that girl…that girl with the incredible hair. The mass flowed shiny clean, obviously well tended; it would fall well below her waist. But the most enticing attribute by far was its fiery, bright auburn color. The long tresses, like molten flame, spilled down the slave girl’s back and around her breasts. Temptation incarnate.
Thanks, Ella!
Love this. Great job, Jenna.
Great excerpts, everybody. I had a lovely time reading them. Now back to my editing cave!
Ally, thanks for stopping by. Good luck editing.
Great idea, Ella. Here’s mine:
Nicholas whispered a string of French at her, short bursts of explanation. Her hand outstretched in front of her, as if to fend them off. Did she really believe she could stop two men bent on violence? Her jaw was clenched tight but her eyes revealed the inner strength of Sophie de Lenoncourt. Her eyes dared them to approach. Her eyes promised violence for violence. There would never be a white flag in those dark blue eyes.
Carol, Very nice. Thanks for sharing.
Great impression!
Thanks, Mart.
What fun! Great snippet, Ella.
This is from BENEATH THE WATER’S EDGE
His door slammed open. Kipp shoved Rathbone through the threshold, pulling along the young runt by his sleeve.
“What’s this?” Blackthorn set down his quill and leaned back in his chair. This would be interesting. For Kipp to bring in these fellows whilst Blackthorn conducted his business, they’d had to have breached the articles they swore to.
“M’ ’pologies, Capt’n,” Rathbone said. He wisely kept his stare on the floor.
“Caught him takin’ liberties on the lad,” Kipp said.
Blackthorn crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh?”
Rathbone’s head shot up. “No. He’s mistaken.” His mouth hardly moved as he spat out the words.
Kipp slowly shook his head. “No mistakin’ where yer hands were, mate.”
Rathbone began to speak, but Blackthorn held up a stern hand. He slid his gaze to the boy. The lad refused to make eye contact with anyone, but his eyes darted nervously about the room and his arms were wrapped soundly around his waist. Odd, the boy acted more like a scared…poppet.
Curse it! Could it be? A lass on board his ship. How did this happen?
“What’s your name boy?” Blackthorn asked, trying to control the sudden anger threatening to explode.
“Elysen, sir.”
Blackthorn had to strain to hear the girl. “Well then, Elysen, what do you have to say?”
“’Tis a misunderstanding, is all, sir.”
“A misunderstanding. I see.” No truths would be spoken in the present company. Just as well. ’Twas best to contain the situation.
Blast it! He flicked his quill on his desk, more than a little plagued by what this snake had done.
“Rathbone. You are aware you have violated Article Nine of the code, are you not?”
The wretch’s jaw muscles worked feverishly. He’d been caught, and he knew what came next. He nodded once.
“Punishment for meddling with a boy,” he paused to look at Rathbone’s trifle, “or woman, is death.”
Elysen let a tiny gasp slip.
Kipp gawked at the girl, realization had struck. “Shit.” Blackthorn almost laughed at his friend. Almost. Everything had changed. The whole evening of planning had gone down the pissdale. They now had a very real problem.
Thanks, Jenn. I love yours.
This is from A Prescription for Love, #3 in my Oklahoma Lovers series, coming from Soul Mate Publishing on October 17th. The scene is longer than this, but I didn’t want to post the whole thing.
A pretty little thing, but with the look of someone who’d been beaten down by life. As she proceeded toward him, he took in her mass of red curls struggling unsuccessfully to stay in the bun she’d fastened at the nape of her neck. Her startling blue eyes, shadowed by thick copper eyelashes, blinked rapidly, and she chewed on her lower lip. A long brown coat covered her from neck to toes.
“I see you’re holding my ‘Help Wanted’ sign. Are you applying for the job?”
“Yes. Can I ask what the job is?” The words came out breathless, and so soft Michael had to lean across the counter. Somehow the low-winded voice fit with the rest of her. Her hands shook where she clutched the sign and overall, she appeared ready to take flight.
He checked his pocket watch. Almost six o’clock. “I’ll tell you what, Miss . . .?
“Miss Lester. Heidi Lester.”
“I’m Michael Henderson, and it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He smiled, but she only nodded, her eyes wide, reminding him of a frightened animal.
“It’s closing time anyway, so suppose I flip the ‘Closed’ sign on the door and then we can talk without interruption?”
She licked her lips and stood back when he moved around the counter. He headed to the door, pulled down the shade, then adjusted the sign.
“I have an area in the rear of the store, would you care to join me there?” He smiled again, but she merely nodded and followed him as he led her past the counters of drugs and medical equipment. Michael pushed aside a curtain hanging between the store and combination storage and kitchen. “Please, have a seat.” He motioned to a table and two chairs next to the wall.
Miss Lester sat at the edge of the seat, clutching the ‘Help Wanted’ sign so tightly the paper crinkled. Michael reached across the table and took it from her hands. She blushed.
The poor woman appeared scared to death, and if she continued to chew on her lower lip, he’d have to return to the front of the store to get some salve for her.
Callie, That was great. Thanks for sharing.
Great excerpt, Ella! And your blog is such fun!
Here’s an excerpt from my Civil War romance Cole’s Promise when the hero meets the heroine for the first time.
Excerpt:
He purposely strode toward the captain’s tent but halted at the sound of a feminine laugh. Glancing at the Women’s Aid tent, he was riveted by the sight of one of the new relief workers. Although he didn’t know her name, he’d seen her a few days ago when she arrived. Her hair, worn in a tight coil at the base of her skull, was golden blond. He imagined if he fingered the strands they’d feel like silk. He’d never been close enough to catch the color of her eyes, but they appeared to be a light color and her skin a smooth ivory.
She glanced his way, full, pink lips curving up at the corners. Taken by surprise, he quickly tipped his cap and looked ahead, but the delightful vision stayed.
Unlike Hannah, the young woman’s build was petite and delicate, not full and curvy like his best girl. But he’d made a promise to Hannah before he left not to stray. He’d not allow the sight of a pretty face shake his resolve to be true.
After his briefing with the captain, he strode back to see if the aid station had any treats ready for the men. The scent of hotcakes and syrup led him straight under the fly. He scanned the women serving soldiers food but didn’t see her…whatever her name was.
He hastened to his tent to dig out his plate, before the cakes were all gone. He accepted a stack of cakes and a dollop of butter and syrup from a smiling, matronly, gray haired woman, then retreated to his tent to devour his breakfast.
On this bright and clear summer morning, the scents of foliage, cooking fires, and horseflesh drifted through the air. He straightened his uniform and, coffee mug in hand, set out to the field for mail call. He’d written Hannah over a month ago and still hadn’t received a return letter. His regiment had only been stationed here, near Frederick, Maryland, for a couple of weeks, though, so the mail likely hadn’t caught up with him.
Men already stood in line when he reached the field. The post master called names and handed mail to women volunteers to distribute to the men.
She was here. Cole caught his breath at the sight of her. He really had to get his mind on other things. Patting his pocket, he focused on Hannah. He sidled up to one of his corporals.
“I’m running a little late, I see. Did they call anything for me, yet?”
Corporal Jenson smiled. “No, sir. Didn’t hear anything for you.”
“Good.” Cole stood in line patiently waiting as names were called and women handed the men their precious mail.
“Lieutenant Cole Manning,” the baritone voice called out. Cole stepped forward and watched as the post master handed his mail to the very woman who set his heart thumping wildly.
She lifted her gaze over the group of men. He held up his hand, and she smiled and angled her way toward him.
His breath caught as she stepped to his side. Tipping his cap, he accepted two posts. Their hands briefly touched, and a jolt shot through him. “Thank you, ma’am.” A delicate scent of lilac and woman settled over him, and he found it difficult to say more.
She smiled, and her amber gaze caught his. Such beautiful eyes. He felt lost.
“Good day to you, lieutenant.” She nodded toward the letters clutched between his fingers. “Hope it’s comforting news from home.”
He studied the first post. “It’s from Hannah.” Relief surged through him.
“Hannah?” She quirked her lips.
“My best girl back home in Grantley. I plan to ask for her hand right after the war ends.”
She nodded, but her gaze appeared pained. “How wonderful! I’ll leave you to read your posts.”
“Wait.” He couldn’t allow her to leave until he’d learned her name. “I saw you in camp the other day but never got an introduction.”
“Well…” She glanced around. “It’s not entirely proper for me to introduce myself, but…” She smiled with an endearing, mischievous expression. “I’m Miss Hirsch.”
“How do you do, Miss Hirsch? Lieutenant Manning, at your service.” He tipped his cap and bowed formally.
She laughed. “Very pleased to meet you, sir.” She motioned to the mail again. “I’m sure you’re anxious to see what Hannah has to say.”
Susan, that was very nice. Why do I get the feeling he’s about to be jilted by Hannah?
I won’t leave an excerpt today, but I’m certainly enjoying yours, Ella, and everyone else’s. My hero hated my heroine on sight and wanted to toss her out the door. A 200 year war of their people fighting one another had everything to do with it.
Great post idea 🙂
Sheri, I wish you would have posted. Maybe next time. Thanks for coming by.
NICE!
I have a tiny snippet from my WIP, Uncertain
She snickered a little, but it hurt her throat and she stopped. Her door swung open and she heard heavy footsteps. She glanced up into a pair of golden-green eyes that held kindness and a heaping helping of concern. He perched himself gingerly on the very edge of the bed peering, almost staring a hole through her. He smiled gently but his stare grew deeper and it unnerved her.
Why?
She managed to tear her gaze away from his eyes and take in the rest of him. God, the man was handsome. Even in her muddled state, she couldn’t help noticing. A generous mouth and slightly curved nose were set off by a strong, square jaw line. The shadow of a beard added to his manly aura. His yellow and red coat, pants and heavy black boots were smudged with grime. She removed her mask that Matt, her nurse, had replaced when he’d given her the shot earlier His tan skin seemed to glow in spite of the dirt she saw.
He removed his helmet. Wavy, midnight colored hair matted to his head and beads of sweat dripped from his forehead. He wiped them away with the back of his hand, tiredly. He looked as though he’d worked non-stop over the last few days.
He took her hand. “Hello, ma’am. I’m Lieutenant Jacobs. How are you feeling?” His voice was barely above a whisper but held a hint of demand as well as a strong Southern accent, suggesting he was a Texas native.
Her cheeks began to prickle. Her light coffee skin had a tendency to color when she was around a guy she thought was cute. Had he noticed?
God, I hope not.
Very nice Lynn. Thanks for stopping by.
I enjoyed that very much!! Loved this line: There was only one good use for them. Kissing. 🙂
LOL. Thanks Karen. That’s male pov in action.
I really like everyone first impressions. I’m also looking forward to reading more of Huntley and Caro, Ella. Great post!
Lovely first meeting, Ella. Look forward to reading the book. In my new release, A Baron in Her Bed, Guy, Baron Fortescue, believes Horatia to be a male groom: The groom managed to slip through and close the door behind him. Guy was left with the thought of a female derriere in his mind, though where it had come from he knew not. Bemused, he recollected that he hadn’t enjoyed a woman for a while.
Maggi, Wonderful. It’s going on my reading list.
Hi, Ella. Thanks for letting us share. This is from A GIFT BEYOND ALL MEASURE from The Wild Rose Press:
Chapter One
Ch-chink.
Jacob Scott hunted often enough to recognize the sound of a round chambered into a shotgun. He never expected to hear it in the middle of the night inside his own home, though.
Drawing in a deep breath, he willed his thumping heart to slow its tempo. Not wanting to scare anyone into doing something foolish, like shooting him, he slowly lowered his foot to the stair.
“Hold it right there, mister.”
A redundant statement if ever he’d heard one, but the soft and decidedly female voice caught his attention.
“Put your hands up,” she ordered.
He still gripped a suitcase in one hand and boots in the other. “May I put my things down first?”
Silence filled the air for several seconds.
“Okay, but do it slowly.”
The items bounced to the floor as Jacob raised his hands above his head.
A shaft of moonlight sliced through the landing window to reveal pink polished toenails wiggling on the hardwood flooring. His gaze traveled up shapely
legs. Just as he began to wonder if she was naked, he encountered the hem of a nightshirt mid-thigh. The flannel material didn’t cling, but he was left with an impression of rounded hips, slim waist and shapely breasts. Gripped tightly in her hands, his own shotgun was aimed at his chest.
“You’re trespassing,” she said.
He raised a brow. “Do tell.”
The gun wavered a few inches.
“I’ve called the police.”
He nearly smiled at her bravado. “It takes at least an hour for the sheriff’s department to get here. You’d have done better to call Gavin.”
The gun dipped in surprise and he took his chance. Sprinting up the stairs, he shoved the weapon upward and wrapped an arm around the woman’s waist. She jerked on the gun, propelling it out of their hands. An ear-splitting blast filled the air as it clattered down the stairs.
Her feet tangled with his, throwing him off balance. Gripping her waist, they fell to the hardwood floor. Landing on top of her, the air left their bodies with a hard ‘oof.’ For a second, stillness filled the air, then she attacked with arms and legs.
Very cute. I can’t wait to see what happens next.
I DO love Huntley, Ella! And that is a great excerpt! Here is a bit from His Charming Seductress when Dylan sees Eve for the first time. As a bit of lead-in, Dylan has been wrapped up and knocked to the floor by Eve’s pet snake. And yes, this is a Regency historical !
“She can’t hear you, Mr. Crosby.” The voice, warm dark honey wrapped in the rustle of silk sheets, tripped fingers of erotic visions down his spine.
Don’t look. Just his luck, the voice with the power to make Fordyce’s sermons sound like The Tales of the Arabian Nights, in all good likelihood, would belong to a woman more akin to a camel than a harem girl. Oh, very well. Look. His heart stuttered to a stop.
Good God.
Eyes more lavender than blue. Delicate features drawn on pearlescent skin. Lips tilted in just the slightest hint of a smile. Pink as a maiden’s blush, full and in need of a good kiss or twenty. A cloud of golden hair framed her face and touched the back of her neck. The thick waves trapped in an elegant chignon promised a heavy fall of gilded satin for the man fortunate enough to take it down.
His mouth went dry.
A goddess descended from heaven, she glided across the white and pink swirled patterns of the marble. The severe green wool gown covered her from neck to ankles. It did little to hide the gentle curve of her hips or the contours of breasts full beyond his imagination and firm enough to send a connoisseur such as himself into—
“You are Mr. Crosby, aren’t you?” She folded her arms across the objects of his rag-mannered scrutiny and fixed him, one eyebrow raised, with a decidedly unamused stare.
“I am.” Between the continued tightening of the snake’s grip and the tightening of his body in reaction to the beauty who, impossible as it seemed, might be Tildenbury’s sister; the calm, clear manner of his response surprised him. “And you are?”
She knelt beside him and pushed his hands away from his reptilian captor. “Here to rescue my snake from another of my brother’s idiot friends.” To his utter amazement she reached between his legs and began to tug at the loops of snake which were now tightly woven around his upper thigh. Her hand delved down a bit and with ironic dexterity managed to grasp something definitely not snake.
Dylan drew his breath between his teeth and winced. “I’ll try not to take that personally, Miss Tildenbury.”
She snatched her hand back. Her face flushed a rosy pink. “Which? My calling you an idiot or my abuse of your…person?”
“You can call me anything you please so long as you get your friend here to release me.” He flattened his palms on the cool surface of the floor and tried to lift himself away from Shiva’s undulating head. “And as for my…person—”
“Let’s leave your person out of it, shall we?”
He found her brisk, unflustered manner arousing. Then again, she’d just had her hand on his cock. The only way he wouldn’t be aroused would be if he were dead – in the case of this particular woman, maybe not even then.
I love this excerpt. Thanks for posting Louisa.