Carys Weldon Blog
Thursday, January 25, 2007
ExcerptFrom Courting Disaster:
(ALGUT)... veered off and slipped down another hallway, in search of Cheya. That wench was too full of herself, and he’d had as much as he could stand.
That—and not nearly enough!
He caught up with her before she made it into the solar.
“Chey!”
She glanced over her shoulder, saw who it was and picked up her skirts again to make haste toward the door. His legs were longer, though, and he was quick for a man his size. He leaped in front of her, putting a hand on the door to bar her way. It took him a minute to catch his breath. Meanwhile, he grinned down at her as he waited for his chest to quit heaving.
“Get out of my way, Algut. I’m about women’s business?”
She tried to get around him; he moved to stop her. She ducked the other way, under his other arm, but he moved again.
“All right. What do you want, you big lug?” She dropped her skirts and lifted her chin. To him, it looked haughty and sexy.
“You’re all het up, ain’t ye, lass? I wonder what gets you so riled?”
She fumed. He touched her lightly on the cheek. She flinched. Pleased with her reaction, he said, “Don’t tell me you’re tense because I’m so close to you.” He let the hand slide, and drop, down to skim her breast.
She grunted and stomped her foot. “Dinna flatter yourself, sir.”
Algut slipped the hand to her hip, and lifted his other hand to skim his fingertips across her cheek.
“I’d rather flatter you, Cheya, but I’m not a man of pretty words.” He did his best to let his eyes, and the way he felt, convey to her a thousand things, all about desire.
She nearly fell into his arms, just from reading the message there. He could feel her leaning toward him and he, too, moved closer to her. I
There was a spark of fire between them that leapt to life every time they got within touching distance of each other. Something that stole their breath and pooled in their bellies. He couldn’t remember exactly when it first kindled, but it had plagued him full on since the trip to court.
Her lips parted as she watched his.
“You’ve grown to be a bonny lass, Chey. And you’re right. You are a woman full grown.”
She backed up.
He grabbed her and pulled her close. She automatically fought him off, but not with serious intent. He didn’t let go. Drawing her tight to his chest, he kissed her. Right there in front of the solar door where anyone could have seen.
His kiss wasn’t a chaste peck on the lips, either. When Algut of Tawyn took hold of Cheya of Ponarth, he laid seige to her heart in full measure, giving her everything he could in that one embrace. He could have kept the kiss up all night, but she began to gasp and arch backward, weak in his arms—and he felt obligated to put her back on her feet. When he finally let her go, her lips were swollen, her cheeks were flushed and her heart pounded.
She put her fingers to her lips and he wanted to take hold of her again.
His throat worked but no words came out. His hands, which a moment before seemed so sure when they were holding her, suddenly became awkward. Big. Oafish.
He pulled himself up to his full height again and looked down at her, muttering regretfully, “Dinna think you’re any less because o’ this.”
Cheya’s brow wrinkled in confusion. She licked her lips.
He cleared his throat and added roughly, “You’re bonny, Chey. Make no mistake in that.” He studied her again, and when he was once again focused on her face, he whispered, “As bonny a lass as ever there was.”
That thought embarrassed him, or mayhap it was just the saying of it, for he grabbed her hips, turned her around, yanked the door open to the solar and shoved her inside. The door was shut behind her before she even realized what had happened.
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