Romance - June Blog Hop

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June blog hop word is Romance! Come and join us as we explore romance at its best, click on the link under the image...

Dreams and Kisses

He lay near the road, a bright splotch of red upon the long thick grasses, eyes closed with a smile upon his face as he basked in the full sunshine of the day. His hands lay clasped, fingers entwined over his uniformed stomach.

Oh, to know such peace, Lila thought gazing at him from the coach as he opened his eyes and sat up, quickly, but not with worry. No, his smile said he knew he could be in trouble and could care less. Lila’s breath caught in her throat. She recognized him. She leaned forward toward the window. "Leave him be."

"He’s a soldier and obviously not where he's supposed to be." Madame Fletcher, Lila’s chaperone, didn’t tolerate laziness in anyone, especially someone beneath her, someone who was paid to work,

even if he was a soldier, even though she herself lived on the charity of family.

"Everyone deserves a few moments to enjoy a day such as this, Madame," Lila said, but noticed no one took heed of her words. The coachmen forced the poor man up onto the back of the coach. They would lock him up while they checked his leave. Lila almost smiled. A man arrested for enjoying a beautiful day.

The coach stopped in front of the hotel Lila used whenever she performed in this town. She rushed from the coach first, ignoring her chaperone's call to return as she ran to watch the man being taken into the building across the street. Inside, she rushed toward the door beginning to close behind the young man. "I need to see this soldier," she demanded.

"Mademoiselle Lila, you man not—" started her coachman.

"Yes, I may. Do not stop me and do not come in. I need to see him alone." Before he could lock the door, she shoved past the coachman, entered and quickly closed it behind her. Madame Fletcher protested from the other side but Lila didn’t care. Knowing Madame Fletcher would force her way in if she could, Lila made swift work of the two locks as her chaperone pounded on the door.

Mm Fletcher screeched, "Come out at once. This is outrageous—"

"I will not. Leave me alone. I need to speak to this man and there is nothing you can do about it."  Sometimes, though rarely, it paid to be a diva. Lila stared at the locks, hoping they would hold. Their age gave her no assurance of strength, if sufficiently pressed.

Lila turned. The room was large and bare with a smaller room attached to the left. The young man looked in askance of her, as he stood clothed in his red uniform, blondish hair and heavenly blue eyes. She had not been wrong. She had seen him before, in the one special dream. All she needed now was to hear him speak and she would know if she were a fool, or the happiest woman on earth. Even if they tried to keep her from him, to know he truly existed would help when the time came to reveal, and fight, for her choice.

"By what honor," he began. Yes, she thought. His voice matched the one in her dream.

"By mine," she answered and touched him lightly on his arm. "Please come with me just for a moment. We have so little time." In the smaller room she faced him. She stepped to him and threaded her arms round his neck. "Please, hold me. Kiss me. Please."

She pressed his lips with her own and felt his resistance. "Please there is no time for politeness, oh please…" He gazed into her eyes, which beseeched him to listen, to give her what she asked. Lila leaned her body against the length of his as if to touch as much of him as possible.

Francesco Hayez

He leaned down and kissed her then, a real kiss, a full kiss and his arms encircled her. He held her closer, in answer to her need. She reluctantly broke the kiss as her hands moved to hold his face. Lila stared into him, memorizing every part of his beauty. His carefree manner disappeared. His lips enveloped hers again and again. "I love you,” she whispered. “I shouldn’t have said such, but I mightn’t have another chance." He held her as if life were about to end and he needed to end it with her.

The door crashed in. They took her away, but she didn’t scream or cry, only stared back at him, standing there. “I have dreamed of you,” he said.

“As I have of you,” she replied. His soft eyes didn’t leave hers until she was gone.

Lila ignored her sputtering chaperone and ran up the stairs past her rooms, to the roof. She would dress shortly, but before she performed tonight she needed... She pushed through the laundered sheets drying on the roof until she could see across the street. She waited. She hoped he had not been taken away. Then, as she turned to leave, her time almost up, he ran across the roof opposite hers, coming quickly to the edge searching, she knew, for her. She ran toward him. “Here, I am here.” Her eyes met his across the empty space between them.

“As am I,” he said. He bowed and blew her a kiss, a gentle smile playing upon his beguiling mouth. Nothing more was said. Lila backed away, her lips and body still tingling from his touch. She had found her mate this day and tonight she would sing it to the world. She would sing for him. If her audiences thought she could sing before, tonight would show them the diva she truly was. She had dreamed a dream, and now it had come true.

word count 780

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Keeping It Simple?

So many people tell you that keeping it simple is the best way to go. There’s even an anagram for it: “K.I.S.S” Keep It Simple Stupid. I’m sure they are right. It is best to simplify whenever possible. However, as a writer, simplicity is not always the way to go. Also, simplicity can actually be harder than it looks, like with children’s books. I can’t count how many folks have told me they should “write a children’s book” because it would be so much simpler/easier than a “real” novel. Right… There is nothing “simple” about writing a children’s book, or a short story, or a poem.

Is it possible as a writer to keep it simple? In my humble opinion, no. Not if I want the reader to read my novel with ease, with the desire to finish quickly because they can’t wait to see how it ends and because getting there is so much fun. If I wrote a “simple” story I don’t think I’d attain that goal for my reader, much less myself.

To lay clues and/or “red herrings” as is done in a mystery or thriller or make your characters more than interesting, there is no “simple way” to do this, unless of course you’re Nora Roberts, who whips out books like a magician does doves from a hat!

Below is an excerpt from The Seventh Man, an example of layering character, alluding to back-story, setting up for what comes later, and hopefully piquing your interest so you’ll want to read more, want to know these people and their stories.

His brain wouldn’t let go, wouldn’t stop thinking of the huge mistake he’d made and what it might cost him. Back in front of the store window he had touched her, skin to skin. He hated to make that sort of contact with anyone but had decided in an instant. Extraordinary danger required extraordinary action no matter what he hated.

      In his head he kept repeating what he’d done as if playing an old scratched LP that wouldn’t stop skipping. He’d gripped her lower jaw, pulled her face to his; moved his hand to allow his mouth to meet hers. He hadn’t been gentle with her, had felt her flinch in pain as his mouth had touched hers. He remembered the feel of her as she’d squirmed beneath him. He took a deep breath and tried to relax, to rid his memory of her perfume. Was it perfume or her natural fragrance? Either way the light floral aroma still penetrated his nose as it had on the street. Her scent had crept inside him, had flowed deep into his mind along with the underlying acrid aroma of her fear. And then conflicting colors of black, pale yellow and red shadows had flashed across his vision; a sudden pain had stung his eyes as if in warning. He shut them now, for an instant, just as he’d done at the scene. When the cops had moved away he’d been locked into the woman, her breath, the foreign taste of her lips; the forgotten touch of a woman’s softness. The dreamlike desire to kiss her with complete abandon had almost overpowered him. Now, with that memory haunting him the flicker came again in chaotic colors and a throb in his head. And, just like on the street outside the store, the killer found he couldn’t breathe. He remembered not being able to breathe, and that he hadn’t been able to stop kissing the woman he’d taken, either.
©2011

            Was this easy to read? Does it seem like a “simple” scene? I hope not!

 

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Frustration

Here is a scene showing an example of “frustration” without actually using that word. Set up: Mr. King, Celia Wight’s agent is interrogated by DS Alban Thain about a security film showing Celia and her kidnapper kissing. This scene is about a third of the way into the interrogation so King’s buttons have already been primed.

“I want to see your evidence. Show me the film.”

Thain did.

King watched the video and his confusion returned, creasing his forehead, but his eyes stated his conviction. “I know her, Detective Thain. I don’t think she actually kissed that man. It looks to me as if he forced her to.”

“Or perhaps it’s a set up? Maybe she knew this man before and arranged to meet him there. Do you recognize him?”

King shook his head. “How could anyone recognize him? You can’t see him. It doesn’t make any sense. We’ve known her for three years and it isn’t in her let someone this close to her. She didn’t do this willingly. It’s too unlike her.”

“How many times has Celia Wight been to the UK since you’ve known her?”

“As we stated, Detective, we’ve only known her for three years, but I know she’s come over at least three times in the last five years. Research for her books.”

“Research is perfect cover.”

Thain had pushed King too far. “Cover for what? You should be trying to find her kidnapper, that man,” King said, pointing at the monitor, “not making insinuating comments, not making out she’s a criminal.”

“I’m only doing my job—”

“What do you expect me to say? You’re accusing an innocent woman!”

“She seems to have kissed him.”

King sighed. “No, she didn’t and no, she couldn’t have known him before.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I told you, she doesn’t let people near her very easily.”

“She let that man get very close.”

“She didn’t “let” him do any such thing. You can see it for yourself if you’d look. She had no choice. She wouldn’t let a stranger get anywhere near her if she could help it. Being in that crowd must have been very difficult for her. She was only there because she wanted to buy gifts for us.”

“How can you be sure she didn’t know him? Do you know all of her acquaintances?”

Philip crumpled the empty cup in this hand. Styrofoam bits fell onto the floor as he threw it on the table. Neither man paid it any mind. “As a matter of fact we do, pretty much know everyone she knows. She’s introverted in an almost obsessive fashion. She’s much too wary of the world.”    

“You look unsure.”

Philip glared at Thain. “The way you ask your questions would make anyone unsure of their own name. And no, I’m not unsure. I would stake my life on it.”

“Is there any possibility she could have planned this disappearance?”

King threw his hands up and leaned back in the chair as if resigned to the ignominy of lesser mortals. “Bugger all. You really don’t get it, do you?”©2011

Both men are striving for the same solution, to find Celia Wight, but going at it from opposite sides. Can you feel King’s frustration with Alban Thain? Where will DS Thain go from here, and will King even finish the interview?