Hello fellow Warriors. I'm back. My health is a bit dodgy, but I'm still kickin' and causing dear hubby tons of grief. Surgery looms in my future, date yet to be determined. Other than that, this past week saw me refresh my memory banks about where I was in my two stories (Georgiana and Mary). This led to the inevitable editing I do whenever I read my prose. I've never figured out how to shut the internal editor off, and I'm coming to the conclusion that a HUGE portion of Georgiana is going to drift onto the cutting floor. I can't seem to get past the last scene and that means - Cut the little darlings. *Ouch*
As I struggled with Georgiana, this lovely scene popped into my head and it doesn't suit sweet Miss Darcy. This snippet, from my future ONLY A ROGUE WILL DO, is here for your perusal.
It's so fresh, I haven't transferred it from the notebook I keep by my bed.
He plucked the dance card from her fingers and before she could protest, opened the tiny booklet and began to read the names she'd scribbled down before entering the ball room.
"Hmmm... Baron Bootstrap... Lord Runamuk..." he murmured, his lips tilting into a grin. "I see Sir Trapdoor didn't make his dance, poor soul, do you believe he... fell through something?"
"Sometimes I think I absolutely hate you." She snatched the card out of his hand and tucked it into her reticule. Before she could turn and escape his all knowing gaze and self-important gloating, he touched her arm and stayed her movement.
"Forgive me, I have no right to make fun of how you deal with this. May I please see the card again."
She almost shook off his hand, but something in his eyes - compassion, perhaps? - had her reach into her bag and hand him the card. He promptly borrowed a pen from Miss ______, standing nearby, and wrote his name next to the supper set.I like these two already.
To view the work of other authors participating in this weekly writing exercise, please click HERE. And, before you go to bed tonight, hug someone you love.