The Reading Garden - Short
Important notice: All excerpts have been submitted by the author.
Author: Paula Smith
Warren stood where he was and watched her. Her back to him, she looked almost vulnerable wrapped in his coat.
"I know who you are also," she whispered.
He walked to stand beside her and gently touched her shoulder.
She turned to stand next to him. The night air swirled around
their figures. He instinctively wrapped his arms around her and
she willingly let him.
"Does knowing me bother you?" he asked her.
She grimaced slightly. "No, but knowing me might."
Resting his forehead on hers, he looked into her eyes, smiling.
"Knowing you would confuse you?"
Catherine laughed softly and Warren kissed her forehead without thought. She became still in his arms and he worried that he'd crossed the line. Leaning back he whispered, "I should say that I am sorry."
Warren thought he heard her say,"Please don't" but all he could
see was her gloved hand reaching slowly to touch his face. His
swift intake of breath seemed to startle both of them yet she
continued. Leaning his cheek into her palm he said, "Please
don't go this time."
She didn't appear in the least startled by his comments. In fact, she seemed to be as dazed as he was. This bond...the tugging of heart strings... was so strong that it was overpowering. All Warren wanted to do was kiss her...hold her...love her.
"Whoa," he said aloud. Love? Standing back swiftly, he walked to the other side of the veranda and gulped air into his lungs. He knew that if she followed him, he would be unable to stop himself. God knows, he didnt want to stop either way but *love*? He was more confused now than before. How could he date someone for over a year and never feel this passion that he was now feeling for someone that he had just met? Stuffing his hands in his trouser pockets, he stared into the darkened sky as he heard her walk to his side.
"This is a dream," he stated beseechingly. "Tell me I am
dreaming."
"If you are dreaming, then so am I," she said softly. "Only there is snow in mine," she muttered.
Warren reached for her hand. She curled her fingers around his. Slowly pulling the glove off, Warren kept his eyes on her face. Catherine's eyes became darker...it was startling to see them change from what? Passion? Anxiety?
He peeled the material from her hand. Once bare, he put the
glove on the railing beside them. Never taking his eyes from
hers, he brought her hand to his and kissed it softly. She moaned.
Pulling her close, Warren swayed with the music playing and her
body glided with his. Their breath mingled. Their hearts beat
as one.
Burying his head in her hair, he sang softly to the music,"...a
night I shall never forget. A passion to remember....a love
unknown to others...with you I shall see heaven..."
Then Warren felt the cold flakes touch his arm and he started to
laugh softly.
"You have your wish, princess".
Pulling away from each other, they both watched the snow falling slowly to the stone tiles beneath their feet. Catherine laughed and reached her uncovered hand out to catch a large flake falling from the sky.
"Look Warren," she said in an animated voice. "Snow."
He was struck cold in his tracks. Her face lit the dark sky,
her voice childlike. His coat had fallen from her shoulders in
her excitement yet the cold did not seem to faze her. It was in
that instant that he knew he couldn't go without touching her
lips with his.
Striding to her, Warren pulled her abruptly to him. She didn't
appear surprised and was actually laughing softly.
"Let me guess," she said. "I have a snowflake on my nose."
Warren laughed and then looked at her lips. He saw that she
noticed the direction of his eyes.
"No, princess....not your nose," he leaned down and ran his
tongue over her lips. She made a moaning sound but it was
nothing compared to the deep animal emotion that he was feeling. Her lips parted and he immediately took them, his tongue dancing with hers.
For what seemed like ages, he tasted the woman of his dreams.
Their bodies became one and the cold, the snow, the sounds from the ballroom became a distant thought. He ran his hands over her shoulders...aching to follow their path with his mouth.
Her breasts pressed against his chest....her legs imprisoned
between his. Leaning over her face, his tongue still teasing
hers, he was consumed with a fire that was beyond words.
She shivered and he felt ashamed. Reaching behind her, he
picked up the discarded coat and wrapped it around her shoulders. He embraced her. He had no idea, of course, that she had shivered from the passion she was feeling, not from the wintery air. Her lips were swollen from their kiss and her eyes filled with unspoken passion.
She reached to touch his lower lip and he sucked her finger
gently into his mouth.
"Wow..." she whispered then appeared surprised at the sound of her voice.
"I have never..." Warren cleared his throat. "I have never
wanted anyone like I want you."
She shivered again. Warren was ashamed that he had kept her
outside as long as he had. Kissing her gently, he took her by the hand and walked her back inside. --©1997
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*About the author: So far, I am unpublished but my time is coming. :) This work is aimed for Silhouette Special Edition and is a Cinderella type novel with a spin. I should have it completed by March 15th and submitted to the editor. The working title is "Glass Slipper". Write to Paula Smith Visit Paula Smith - Writer and Dreamer.
Author: Rebecca Vinyard
Had he spoken truth? Would he have returned her amulet for a simple kiss? It did not seem a very high price to pay, though she'd never kissed a man before. She sent him a seething glance. Well, not willingly kissed a man anyway. She wanted, nay, needed her amulet. It was all she had of her lost family and without it safely around her neck, she did not feel quite whole.
She pushed herself off the bed and warily approached him. He regarded her mockingly over the rim of his mug. "I am on my guard," he warned. "Do not think you can crack a pitcher or bottle over my head."
She felt a bit annoyed with herself for not considering that option. "T'would do little good," she said. "A head as thick as yours would not be damaged, though tis to be hoped a hard knock might stir some sense into it."
He laughed heartily. "Ah, Caroline, how your jibes do prick me! I should name you 'Caroline the Cruel'. Tis an apt title for a wench as mean as you."
She made an indignant sound as she flopped into her chair. "Let us leave this foolery aside. I believe you said you would accept a kiss in exchange for my—"
"That was before," he cheerfully interrupted. "The price has risen now."
"Has it?" she grated, her hands curling into fists. "Why am I not surprised?"
He leaned back to prop his boots on the table. "Tis your own fault, you know," he said, stacking his hands behind his head with a wolfish grin. "After your needless assaults on my character and person, I am not longer in the mood to settle for such a pittance."
"My assault on you? You were the one—"
"Are you going to make me another offer or sit there and scold all day? Bear in mind that with each unkind word, the cost of your precious trinkets rises."
"You are a--" she bit off the insult as he raised his eyebrows in amusement. The man looked insufferably pleased with himself. Folding her arms, she leaned back in her chair and glowered at him. He was devil. A charming, handsome one, but a devil all the same. Oh surely, he pretended to offer her a choice, but she had none except to play along with his stupid game. It was either that, else be deprived of her heirloom forever. And she could not even bear to consider that.
"All right, you win," she grumbled. "I will offer you two kisses."
Peyton rolled his eyes and clucked his tongue. "Two meager kisses? Get serious, wench. You undoubtedly are unaware of how deeply you have wounded me. I am unsure, but mayhap a hundred kisses might assuage my tender feelings, though even that does not seem like enough."
Devil, devil, devil! And yet, her traitorous lips twitched toward a smile. She sternly commanded them to be still. "A hundred?" she scoffed. "Tis far too many to count! Five kisses then, and not a single more."
"At least you seem to finally be getting into the spirit of things," he said. "But no, five is not enough. I will generously divide my offer by half and make it fifty. There! Tis fair and a number within easy reckoning."
"Fifty is still too many," she retorted recklessly. "My lips would end up black and blue from such abuse ere' you finish. Ten kisses, aye, now that is fair. Indeed, tis far more than I desire to pay."
He was shaking his head before she finished. "Not acceptable. Not acceptable at all. I fear ten kisses would be over and done too soon."
"Too soon?"
"Aye, I want enough kisses to taste your lips in all of their sweet seasonings." His voice grew husky as his gaze fastened on her mouth. Caroline felt her face grow warm, though she did not have the slightest idea why. "As you know, my true wish is to savor the full banquet, but alas that is not to be," he added. "Since I must settle for mere appetizers, rather than sup on the main course, let us just say forty and call this dickering done. What say you?"
Caroline licked her lips self-consciously, unsure of the double meaning behind his words, yet feeling as though she understood them all the same. Confused by such jumbled thoughts, her hand lifted once again to seek the solace of her amulet, only to clutch at empty air. Oh, she wanted to cry in frustration, claw at his green-brown eyes and yet--And yet the curious glow within her was beginning to spread throughout her body. Such an odd sensation. It numbed, tingled and warmed, an intoxicating, yet paralyzing mixture. She knew no name for such a feeling. She could only react to it with curious fear. She did not want him to best her at this game. She had to say something, but what words to ward him off?
"Well?" he prompted. "Do you accept forty?"
"Nay," she murmured thickly. "Tis still too many. Let us say—half again? Twenty?"
"Done! A full score!" he half shouted, snapping his fingers as he rose swiftly to his feet. Caroline was taken aback by his agility and his easy acceptance, but most of all by how she'd allowed her competitive spirit to override her common sense. Madonna forgive her, what had she done? --©1997
***
*About the author: Rebecca Vinyard is an aspiring author, living in Allen, Texas. She's married and has two children. A journalism major at Florida Junior College, Rebecca's had short stories, non-fiction articles and poems published in minor publications and worked as an editor of an Internet newsletter. For the last four years, she's concentrated on writing novels, completeing four historicals and one contemporary romance. She is agented and has one single title romance novel in submission. Rebecca is a member of the Romance Writers of America's Dallas and Fort Worth chapters.
Write to Rebecca Vinyard. Visit Rebecca Vinyard's web site, Romance Central.
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