The Secret
William Henry Fisk
“Let me whisper sweet nothings in your ear.”
Welcome back to Sweet Nothings, a little shadow of Sweet Saturday Samples, until that sweet treat starts back up. Until that happens, I’m doing a little weekly blog where you can post a “sweet” excerpt (PG 13 or milder) from one of your works. Remember: please hold the excerpt to 350 words or less. But if your cutting needs just a few more words, that’s okay too. I won’t be counting. LOL
Today’s “Sweet Nothing” is an excerpt from my medieval historical novella, Betrothal, Book 1 of Time Enough to Love. This snippet shows an early encounter between Sir Geoffrey Longford and Lady Alyse de Courcy. They have been betrothed, never having met before the announcement of the betrothal. Now Geoffrey is trying to learn a little bit about his betrothed.
“You have been at court but a short while, Lady Alyse? I did not meet you here last Christmas.” Not only a ploy to get her to talk, but to learn about her as well. If she would take the bait.
“No, sir. We did not meet.” She looked up at him and some of the fear retreated from her face. “I arrived at Windsor but two months ago. Before that, I was in the household of Lord Penburthy, in service to his wife, Lady Elizabeth. I have lived in the north these past ten years.”
He had not heard her speak so much at one time. Her low-pitched voice had a melodious quality—a pleasure to listen to. “Were you excited, then, to come to court?” Geoffrey experienced a giddy rush when he saw a tentative smile play about her lips.
“Aye, my lord, I came here eagerly. ’Tis very grand, especially after Merwyck Castle, near the Scottish border. A place beautiful, but wild. The castle did not have as many comforts as I find here.”
“What comforts?” He was fascinated by the way she blossomed before his eyes.
“Oh, warmth for one. Being so far north, the castle stayed cold always, even in summer. There were four other girls who served Lady Elizabeth, and we slept all in one room. Very noisy at night. To share with only one person here is like heaven.”
Geoffrey held his breath, for as soon as the words were out she colored prettily and darted a fearful glance at him. He had valiantly bitten back his amusement, yet still she noticed.
A delicate black eyebrow lifted. “You have a comment, my lord?”
Geoffrey laughed. As they arrived at the chapel, he took her hand, feeling that almost familiar rush of fire through his. “I would say, my lady, you are indeed perceptive. To share a room, or bed, with one other person can be like heaven.” He lifted her fingers to his lips, tingles firing off like sparks, and handed her into the chapel.
Okay, now it’s your turn to share a “Sweet Nothing.”
Jenna Jaxon Romance--because passion is timeless. 
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These are so much fun. Below is a marriage proposal a ramshackle lord makes to an earl’s unwanted heiress:
“You were right, you know, about Tavistock and the others, (the heiress declares). I’ll never accept any marriage proposal. But not because of pride—because I’m afraid.”
All thoughts of confession were driven from his mind by her revelation. He stroked the skin beneath her pearls instead as they glowed pink in the candlelight and the blaze of her hair. Were they the ones he redeemed?
Her eyes told him they were.
“Don’t be afraid.” The words came tumbling out even before Griffin realized what he was saying. “Don’t be afraid to marry me, Diana.”
“I cannot,” she whispered, her head resting on his chest.
The weight of her against him was more precious than anything he had known. He felt indescribably tender toward her. It opened his eyes to what he might do for her–and himself. He could take this opportunity to wipe out his guilt, and therefore any need for confession.
“Let me remove all your doubts,” he said, gently putting her away from him. He peered at her, making sure she was looking in his eyes. “I know that I bring nothing to you as a husband. No wealth and scarcely a title to recommend me. But I promise to enrich yours, without anything in return. If you’ll have me.”
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Thank you for this opportunity, Jenna. Here’s part of the opening scene from WHITE WITCH, the prequel novella to my Texas Devlins series. WW is the recipient of a 5-star Crowned Review in the September issue of InD’Tale Magazine.
Chicago; August 1871
Jessie hiked up her skirts and stepped into the cool water of Lake Michigan, wading out until the gentle waves lapped at her knees. It felt wonderful on her sweaty skin. She wished she could immerse her whole body but didn’t relish walking home in sopping wet clothes.
“Jess, you’d best be careful,” her brother Tye called from a few feet away. “There could be a drop-off.”
“I know. I’ll not go any farther out. And take your own advice, brother dear.” She glanced at him enviously. Having stripped away his shirt and rolled up his pant legs, he was splashing water on his chest, not the least bit concerned about getting his trousers wet.
“Aye, I will, although I’m a fair swimmer, unlike you.” He grinned at her mischievously. “In case ye haven’t noticed, I’m not burdened by a skirt and petticoats either.”
“Humph! Go ahead and get your trousers soaked. Doubtless you’ll enjoy being ogled by every woman we pass on our way home, ye wicked devil.”
He laughed and sliced the water with the edge of his hand, sending a small geyser her way. It caught her in the face, causing her to shriek and duck away as droplets dampened the bodice of her worn gray gown.
“Don’t do that!” she scolded. “I don’t want to get all wet.” Wiping water from her eyes, she blinked several times to clear them. Once she was able to keep them open, she happened to glance into the distance across the lake . . . and froze.
The lake disappeared before her eyes, replaced by a burst of fire that soared high overhead, wringing a strangled cry from her lips. The fire turned into a hellish scene of flames leaping from building to building along a familiar street, a street filled with people running for their lives before the monstrous fire. It licked at the wooden paving block underfoot and at the walkways lining the thoroughfare.
Her view of the event shifted abruptly. Now she saw her family’s cottage going up in flames behind her as she was being whisked away.
“Nay, not our home!” she wailed without realizing she’d spoken. Then the scene changed again. Now she was looking toward the city from far across the lake, and what she saw made her scream in horror.
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David Russell had problems posting his excerpt from his work Self’s Blossom, so I’ve posted it her for him. Thanks for coming by, David.
Here, she was on a beach, pure and simple. Now the sea breathed heavily, whispering and murmuring to her. It was returning her stare, speaking to her. It was the spirit of love, beckoning her with a pulsing, sinewy body. In all its lines, shades, and fleeting forms, Selene saw the essence of pure beauty, all grace of form, flesh, limb and feature. It was in one, all the lovers of whom she could possibly dream, conflated into one elemental ideal. He, pure love in soul, bade her to enter his domain and make it hers. His arms moved her hands to unclasp, unbutton, and unzip . . . the blossom emerged. The sun became the eye of all that was not earth, and Selene loved fully, though the pallor of her skin left her momentarily abashed.
At first she lay in the tide’s path, the top of her head at its most extreme mark. The sand bank made a soft bed. The sea lover smoothly caressed her calves, thighs, hips, breasts, shoulders, and cheeks before retreating to pause in his mossy pinnacles. Three times this action was repeated, and then Selene stood up, wading in with arms outstretched. Her arms were linked, as she stood up to her neck in the saline flow. The balls and heels of her feet wobbled, slithering on the moss. With the next wave, she lost her balance – her breath prepared in unison with the hissing around her. She threw her head back, once again horizontal, and launched into a backstroke, sweeping and circling. She parted her legs wide with each thrust of motion, each sweep of self-propulsion pushing out to answer the cavernous currents of his passion. Seven circles gave her a delicious, warm bliss –then the sea lover, well pleased, carried her back to a near-dry bed. Aching and contented, Selene dozed a while.
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Loving the post, comments and excerpts. Here is an excerpt of SEDUCING SIGEFROI, Book 3 in the Curse of the Lost Isle medieval fantasy romantic series:
“Is everything to your liking so far?”
Jarred by the deep male voice, Melusine snapped awake. Sigefroi stood in front of her, one soft boot nonchalantly propped on the edge of the wooden tub. The white of his tunic matched his teeth as he stared at her with a wolfish grin.
Melusine glanced around in panic for something to cover her nudity but her clothes lay too far away. She pulled up her legs in the bath water and laced her arms around her knees. “How dare you intrude? Can’t you see I’m taking a bath?”
Sigefroi’s bold gaze swept over her exposed body. “It’s not as if it were the first time. You seem to like bathing in hot tubs as well as in cold rivers.”
Shocked at his effrontery, Melusine released one arm to point toward the door. “Get out of my chamber immediately!”
“Your chamber?” His grin widened. “This is the only private chamber in the villa, and it happens to be mine.”
“Yours?” Melusine flushed in confusion. She knew the villa was small but hadn’t really thought about all the details.
“I’ll share it with you, unless you want to sleep on the hall floor with the servants.” The scowl on his brow returned. “And as the lord of this place, I don’t take orders from my guests… or my wenches.”
Wench? Her solitary life hadn’t prepared Melusine for such vulgarity. According to what she understood of men, however, she must not give herself too fast but rather let Sigefroi grow hungry for her body as long as possible. “I am no wench and demand to be treated with respect!”
He chuckled and effected a mock bow. “You certainly have mine, my lady.”
Melusine managed a forced smile. “If you give me your word to behave honorably, I could sleep on a pallet behind a screen at the far side of your bedchamber.”
He rolled his eyes. “Truly?”
Melusine hoped her inaccessible proximity would work in her favor. “There is enough space for the two of us.”
“Nay.” The candles flickered in his amber eyes. “You don’t understand, my lady.” A slow smile spread on his sensual lips. “I intend to take you to my bed tonight. After all, we are to be wed.”
“So soon?” Panic choked her voice. Impaired by Sigefroi’s close proximity, Melusine couldn’t think. He wanted to consummate their union tonight? She quickly regained her composure. “My lord, it’s not proper. We hardly know each other and are not yet betrothed.”
He pulled up the sleeves of his tunic. “A detail easily remedied, my lady. Do you mind if I wash my hands before dinner?”
Before she could react, he dipped his hands in her bath, caressed her knee, brushed the skin of her thigh. Delicious heat coursed through her entire body. He seemed to enjoy her confusion as he swept the length of her folded arms with the back of one finger.
Lifting her chin with the crook of one finger, he bent and softly kissed her lips.
Melusine melted into the bath water, waves of heat swelled and washed over her. His smooth, soft lips teased hers. Her mouth relaxed and opened under his. She let him gently probe her mouth then claim it as his own. Dear Goddess, she was lost.
How could she manipulate this man when she yielded under his touch? She had seen shameless wenches offer themselves to strangers when it served their purpose, or even withhold their favors at will, but Melusine could never do that. She could not refuse this man. She was exposed, vulnerable, and in great danger.
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Great excerpts. Here’s a snip from Wicked in His Arms
“I promised you I wouldn’t pry, but if Hightower and Dashwood offended you I doubt any of it is your fault. Those two can offend most ladies simply by entering a room.”
Eve hid her smile behind her teacup and took another long sip of tea.
“You underestimate your brother.” He offered her another tart, which she refused with a shake of her head. “He’s far more capable than you think.” Those eyes again, searching and arrogant all at once, never left her face. He wanted to know everything and didn’t strike her as the sort of man who would settle for less.
Unfortunately he would have to this time. She didn’t know what, if anything, Hubert had done with Dashwood and she wanted Mr. Crosby out of the house and well on his way to London before she found out. More important, before he found out. “You think him capable and yet you still managed to trick him into inviting you here.”
“Trick him? I’m shocked at your accusation. Why would I want to trick Tildenbury?”
“Because you can. Why else would a man like you befriend a man like Bennie? You think him stupid and gullible. He fancied your wish to visit his home to be an act of friendship and you took advantage of him.” A virulent anger rose in her. “You and Hightower think Dashwood came here and met some terrible fate. So you cozened Bennie into an invitation and once you have satisfied your curiosity and accumulated enough scandalous tales to tell about my family you’ll be off to regale all of London with every delectable word.” She shouldered out of his coat and pitched it at him. “I have to go and instruct the servants to prepare rooms for you and your friend.” She turned to leave.
“Not just yet.”
In the space of a breath she was wrapped in the coat and snatched against the solid wall of Crosby’s chest. At the top of the tower with an endless night sky as canopy and only snow and wind around them, Eve was trapped. The entire world and she had seen much of it thanks to her nomadic parents, in this moment narrowed to the place where they stood. And in the dead of winter, every inch of her body burned.
“I don’t think your brother stupid. You do.”
“That is the most ridiculous and hurtful thing I have ever heard.” She struggled to get free, which only made him pull her closer. “Let me go.”
“Imagine how it feels for him. His sister doesn’t trust him to defend her honor and she thinks he’s an idiot as well.”
“How dare you.”
“I find your brother the most clever man of my acquaintance.”
The wind whispered into the silence. Snowflakes dusted his hair, his eyelashes. She dug her nails into her palms to keep from brushing it away. Her heart constricted. With all the air whipping around them she couldn’t draw any into her lungs. His hands curled into the black wool of his coat, drawing it closer and closer around her. The white flakes lay in sparkling contrast against the tanned marble of his skin. All of it the perfect picture of a gentleman in complete control of the situation until she looked into the torrid snap of his eyes.
“Bennie? Clever?” She managed to croak out the two words past the enormous lump in her throat.
“Your brother has a rare gift, Miss Tildenbury, a gift for happiness. Why would I seek his friendship? He is happy, truly happy every minute of the day. It is his gift. I envy him.” He stepped back and released his grip on the greatcoat.
“Oh.” His words crashed over her as heavy and powerful as the stones in the tower walls. No further reply came to mind.
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I love how respectful and careful Geoffrey is about breaking the ice with her, like a true gentleman.
This is an excerpt from my hiatused contemporary historical Justine Grown Up, which is a modern retelling of sorts of Margaret Sidney’s Phronsie Pepper (only with things that were unthinkable in Phronsie’s world, like premarital sex and living together before marriage!). It’s December 1979, and Justine is out on her second date with longtime family friend turned crush David.
She puts the rack back inside the table and breaks. David stands back as she sinks three balls, a blue solid, a red solid, and a blue striped.
“You really are as good as you said. I guess you’re gonna call solids.”
Justine barely says anything to him as they play several games, though part of her fantasizes about hopping onto the table with him and making out. She’s never gone past first base with any guy, but she figures it can’t be that difficult to figure out. So long as she feels comfortable with the guy. As she’s analyzing the table, she stops and stares at him, taking in his beautiful brown eyes, his soft skin, his beautiful facial features, his well-formed hands, his longish brown hair, and his sensuous mouth. She almost moans out loud.
“Are you gonna make the next shot, or are you just gonna look at me?”
She looks down and positions her pool cue.
“How can you see what you’re doing if you’re not looking at the board? You don’t hafta be embarrassed I caught you checking me out. I already know you like me. And I think you might make a shot easier from the angles available if you do it the other way around. I never make shots behind my back. I just switch to the right hand so I can see what I’m doing and not get in such an awkward position.”
“I don’t know how to make opposite-side shots.”
“Then let me teach you.” He stands behind her and puts the cue into her right hand. “You hafta do it a lot to get good at it, but you don’t get good at anything by never doing it. I’ll help you make the shot, and then you do it again by yourself.”
Justine savors the feeling of his hands on hers, and the press of his body against hers. She feels cheated when he puts the balls back in their prior positions after she makes the shot.
“Now do it again. My pool teacher always did this to me, putting the board back the way it was before I messed up or made a bad practice shot. Sometimes I’d have to do it again four or five times. You just keep doing it till you get it right.”
Justine tries it again on her own and doesn’t hit anything. “Can you help me again?”
“Sorry. I showed you once. A good teacher doesn’t hold his student’s hand till she gets it perfect. Are you digging for an excuse for me to touch you again?”
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Everyone’s excerpts are so compelling! Thanks for the opportunity to share, Jenna.
This is a segment of the book I’m featuring on my site this week, Under Wraps, which is a full-length historical novel set in the US in around 1850. Glee Montrose has decided to pursue the prisoner, Esteban Garcia/Alex Pacheco and, although he’s manacled in the wagon, she goes to him one night.
—-
Glee nervously approached the wagon and opened the rear flap. One of the horses nickered in the distance and she jumped.
“Come inside, querida. It is cold.”
Glee looked into the dark interior of the wagon and saw something shifting within. The bright flash of a belt buckle as Alex threw back the blankets held her attention until two large, manacled hands grasped her upper arms and urged her inside.
She climbed over the wagon tail and into Alex’s nest of blankets and parcels. The canvas flap dropped and they were shrouded in darkness, much as they had been at Fort Kearny’s jail. Alex’s chains clanked and rang as he pulled her toward him and wrapped a blanket over her shoulders. His fingers brushed her hair, then paused to stroke the length of the silky mane and lift a handful to his face.
“H-How did you know it was me?” Glee asked, growing uncomfortable now that she had gotten this far.
He laughed, a warm sound in the darkness, and Glee felt his hands and then his breath on her face. “Your perfume. Sometimes summer roses, sometimes heady spices.” He paused. “Tonight it is something new, hm? Something sweet like honey, and also heavy like musk, and perhaps a little sharp like…” His hands withdrew. “Are you afraid of me, sweetheart?”
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Loved this book, Trish! Great writing and compelling characters. You should write more historical romance if you ask me!
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Very nice Jenna! I like 🙂 Now, a sweet excerpt from my Victorian, Great & Unfortunate Things –
Tristan barges in to claim Evelyn during a croquet game when another lord was helping her hold the mallet…
“Hardly. I am her fiancée.” The man’s voice hard, a challenge underlining his statement.
Evelyn’s breath caught in her throat. Her reaction was mimicked by the others in similar ways – Sarah’s mouth dropped open, Andrew’s eyes widened as he stepped away from Evelyn and behind towering mountain Tristan became, his friend Harry choked.
Swallowing rapidly, her mouth virtually too dry to speak, Evelyn finally stammered, “I beg your pardon?”
*
Damn! Her face turned a sickening shade of pale when he uttered the words. What made him say that, of all things? Fiancée? Engaged to the ice queen? Tristan managed to stay stoic, every bit of him tight, strained. Good lord, when that fop moved away so quickly, the soldier inside kicked his dominate male pride. The prickly thin stick of a man wasn’t interested in Evelyn. But, apparently, Tristan’s beast, the creature that lurked beneath the shadows, was.
“Tris.” Harry stood behind him. “What are you doing?” It was a low whisper.
Tristan forced a smile, concentrating to make it more like his resonate, devil-may-care grin. “It wasn’t to be announced just yet,” he replied, his gaze on Evelyn. She still looked a bit shocked. Double damn! “Come, my sweet.” He held his hand up for her to take.
Her eyes still wide, but her mouth now shut, she gently laid her hand on his, like a butterfly landing on a flower. Fragile, like spun glass. She blinked and managed to return to him a timid smile as he led her away.
Several feet from the croquet game, she stopped, withdrawing her hand, as if he had stung her.
“Do you care to explain yourself, captain? Wait, no, my lord?”
He wanted to laugh at her attempt to guess his rank but heard the anger in her tone. Ah, so his ice queen wasn’t all frozen. Her anger would melt her lovely aloof façade. Pity.
“I’ve come to a conclusion, my dear…”
“I am not your ‘dear’,” she snapped.
He snorted at her reaction. “But for all intent and purposes, you are. Now hear me out.” Tristan directed her to the oak tree near the edge of the grounds. They were in perfect view of everyone so he figured she’d be calmer here than in a room in the house. The lady reminded him of a skittish colt, looking to dart off if threatened.
“I need a wife. You are searching for a husband. That braggart there was too close for comfort. Therefore, I rescued you.” He chuckled. “And he won’t be botherin’ you again.”
Her gaze narrowed. Ah, the fire in her eyes lit to blazing. “Whose comfort?”
That question made his skin prickle, like a million pins stabbed him. Surely she knew the scene bordered on ruination…right? Or was it more like it made Tristan uncomfortable? As if the man tried to take what was his? And if so, when had that obscene feeling formed?
“You had no right,” she continued, still breathing flames.
Oh, how he wanted to burn in her fire. “We suit perfectly.”
“I will not marry you,” she hissed, like a cat.
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Nice excerpt! I love the name Tristan for a hero. Thanks for sharing, Gina!
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Thanks for allowing Casey and Tres to be on “Sweet Nothings”. This is an excerpt from CASEY’S COURAGE now available on Amazon.com or Soul Mate Publishing.
Natural as going to the well for water, he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. Sweet and warm as a summer breeze, she drifted against him and enfolded him with slender, strong arms. He was home.
The feel of fragile, fine bones in her back as she leaned back and smiled up at him; green eyes sparkling with desire sent his senses reeling. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so at one with his world.
“Rosalinda told me you rolled out the red carpet for the family,” Tres said as he ran a finger from her temple down to the neckline of her dress.
She laughed, quiet and husky, as she eased out of his arms. “Sure, if you call standing on the front steps barefooted with dirty shoes in my hand red carpet treatment.”
He caught her palm that had only recently healed from bleeding blisters. It felt soft as a baby kitten as it cuddled against his palm. “Rosalinda, in her singular way, said the new wife was uppity. I got the feeling she thought the new Mrs. Spencer had been a little condescending to you.”
Casey’s raised an eyebrow then giggled, kicking Tres’ temperature up another notch. “What can you expect from royalty?”
He raised his eyebrow. “Oh, do we have royalty in the family now?”
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Your hero sounds like a very sweet guy. I bet these two are great together. Thanks for posting today!
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Thanks, Jenna! As always, your excerpts are wonderful!!
This is an excerpt from my upcoming release, “Love Lost in Time” – a time-travel romance.
A slight pound knocked against Andrew’s skull. What in the blazes was Miss Chapman talking about? “Why do you say that? I’ve heard you say it that way a few occasions. Pray tell, what does time have to do with it?”
“Believe it or not, time has everything to do with it. I wouldn’t be here if not for time. I would have never met you if not for time.”
Andrew rubbed his forehead, baffled.
She reached up and took hold of his hand, moving it away from his head. She kept it in her grasp as she ran her thumb across his knuckles. She was a bold woman to touch him in such a personal way. Yet it amazed me to think this small gesture softened his heart, and eased his headache slightly.
“My words are going to become very confusing here shortly. I just want to make sure you are prepared for what I have to tell you. I desperately want you to understand what I’m about to say. It would kill me if you don’t understand or believe me.”
The pleading in her eyes let him know how important this was. Whatever she had to say, she struggled with it, yet she acted as if she wanted to deliver the news to him in a calm, gentle manner.
“Tell me.”
Softly, her fingers stroked his hand. Her touch was so very tender. So soothing. Affectionate. And so very personal. A different emotion leapt inside of him, and once again, he received the impression they had known each other before, but he knew not where. Now as she touched him, peace settled inside him. He was not as confused as he’d been moments earlier, and it really didn’t matter what explanation she gave about her confusing actions. As long as she continued to gaze into his eyes and stroke his hand…he was fine.
Little by little, he became mesmerized by the passion in her green eyes—the way her gaze slid over his face slowly from the top of his head, to his eyes, his nose, and to rest of his mouth. The lovely color of her eyes darkened, which made the desire he had for this incredible, interesting woman kick up a notch. For a fleeting moment, nothing else mattered but holding her. This woman made his thoughts jumbled, yet all he wanted to do was close his eyes and enjoy her touch.
The moonlight peeked through the leaves and highlighted her hair, making the golden strands in her locks stand out more. It took all of his willpower not to pull the pins from her hair and admire the way her length tumbled over her shoulders in a seductive manner.
With his free hand, he cupped her face. She gasped, but then a dreamy sigh quickly followed as she stared deeply into his eyes. She even snuggled closer to his touch.
Never before had a woman’s reaction to his caress been so rattling, but he knew without a doubt Miss Chapman was attracted to him…nearly as much as he was attracted to her. He wouldn’t stop to question why things were happening so quickly. There was time for that later. Now, all he wanted to do was…
He moved his hands in a different direction as he circled them around her and pulled her up against is body. Her palms rested comfortably on his chest, and he was certain she could feel the quick beat of his heart. When her attention dropped to his mouth once again, his breathing became ragged.
“What are you doing to me?” he whispered, lowering his head. “And more importantly, why do I not want to stop this from happening?”
“Then let it happen,” she muttered before his lips silenced hers.
She slid her arms up to link behind his neck. They kissed with gentleness at first, hesitantly, before growing bolder. Excitement rushed through him, knowing she was enjoying this as well.
He yanked her against him and tightened her in his embrace, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. She didn’t kiss like a mere maid, yet he knew in his heart she wasn’t an experienced harlot, either. Her passionate kiss shocked his system as warmth spread through every nerve in his body. Desire strummed inside him, and he realized kissing her felt…right. Perfect. And he never wanted this to end.
The thundering footfalls on the nearby path warned Andrew that their private moment would soon be ruined.
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Don’t you hate it when that happens? And it looks like her explanation got a little side-tracked. LOL I don’t blame her. Andrew sounds like a keeper. 🙂 Great excerpt!
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I love how he courts her. Tweeted and shared.
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Thank you, Ella. You need to post from Phoebe next week to celebrate your release!
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I will! I’m so glad I have a few days off from the blog tour.
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