Carys Weldon Blog
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Writing lost (Plus sexcerpt)
I spent yesterday morning writing furiously. My WORD program usually auto-saves but for some reason, there was a glitch and I lost hours of work. (Stupidly my fault because I multi-tasked my system to death.) I almost always have at least three windows open, more often four or five. My word page, music, email, and internet. Sometimes I get 3-4 internet search pages open, switching as they load. so, it's my own damn fault the system crashed but it doesn't make me any happier.
You would have loved some of the stuff that Levi said to her. But I'm pretty sure that's a chapter you'll never get to re-read, because I hate to re-write the same-o. Oh well, hopefully, I'll write something better.
Maybe not today, though. I have a screaming, banging migraine and it hurts to have my eyes open. I've taken eight Excedrin. (among all my other little dealybobs) It's not working. I just want somebody to shoot me.
In other news, I went to my poetry meeting last night, with plans to turn over the reins--but we didn't get enough people to show up, so we couldn't do a vote. One short. I wanted to vote to throw the rules out (as my last defiant act as president)--they said we had to have one more to vote for that, too. LOL
I wanted to vote to throw the treasurer out, too. (It's a man. He annoyed me.) I should have more patience but I don't have any for men this week. It's all my husband's fault, of course--because when a woman gets enough sex, she isn't as frustrated and cranky. ;) Think he'll read this and remedy the situation? You'll know if my next post is SOOO sweet and happy and sappy. But I'm guessing NO. Who wants to get next a bitchy Carys Weldon?
But then, the girl writes sex for fun--you'd think he'd know the way to work around the lady is to give her a little bit of her own business MORE.
I know. TMI.
I am sorry.
Sex. Sex. Sex. It's on my mind. I need to go write some, I guess.
I was gonna post you a sexcerpt from Courting Disaster this morning but I decided to complain. Maybe tomorrow I'll give you something...wait. I could give you a LITTLE bit to chew on.
Here's the setup...Algut is a big brute--heir to his clan, pretty much as rough around the edges as he can get. He's had a bad winter (thinking about her.) Cheya's a short little, long haired blond, a toe tapping, tongue lashing shrew. They've got it bad for each other. He has every intention of working her out of his system because she is the only daughter of his neighbor, and sister to his best friend--which means he can't just lay her down and push up her skirts without some political ramifications. He's not in the market for a wife.
She, on the other hand, has set her sights on him. But here's the thing--her brother and Algut (and his brothers) have been invited to court by Prince Brack. This is the scene where she announces that she's going with. Poor man damn near has a heart attack.
For having been cold through, Algut felt over-warm at her close proximity. He dropped his gloves onto the table and reached up to unclasp his cloak. It didn’t come loose readily.
She stepped forward and reached to help.
“Here, let me get it.” She smelled like he remembered. That scent had bothered him all winter long.
He pushed her hands away. “I’m a grown man. I don’t need your help undressing, lass.” His gruff tone made her let go fast.
She lashed him back just as fast as he’d thrown her off.
“Dinna flatter yourself, you oaf. I dinna think once to undress you. Roast in your bloody cloak for all I care!”
She spun around, her hair swinging with the move, whipping hard enough to slap him in the chest and across the arm he had raised to undo the clasp with.
It made him crazy. He reached out and grabbed a handful of it.
She squeaked, reaching back to lessen the pain of his tug.
He let go of it and reached for her body instead. His hands on her waist, Algut yanked her back against his chest. He knew instantly it was a bad move—the press of her against his body aroused him on contact—and he’d already been stirred at the sight of her.
He groaned as she melted into him.
His big hands spanned nearly from her hips to the underside of her breasts. His thumbs touched her there, in fact. She closed her eyes briefly, swooning with a smile. He noted her reaction, savored it for a second, and dropped his lips to her ear, wanting to kiss her there, but a noise across the room brought him back to his senses. Instead of applying his lips to her flesh, he muttered, “Dinna flatter yourself, lass.”
He shoved her away. She stumbled forward and barely caught herself before falling flat on her face.
Spinning around, she put her hands to her hips and stomped her foot.
“You’ve got a lot to learn, Algut.” She all but spat out his name. Her eyes shot black daggers at him.
He laughed at her, drawing the attention of the others. The blood rose to her face. She stomped her foot again.
“Oh, you’re so sure of yourself, aren’t you?” She pushed with both hands on his chest.
She was so slight, the pressure was nothing to him. The feel of her hands, though, sent him into a spin of a different kind. He grabbed hold of them quick, and peeled them from his shirtfront.
“Aye, that I am.”
She lifted her chin, looking him in the eye.
“I’ll wipe that smug look off your face before you know it.”
That made him laugh again.
“And how do you propose to do that?”
She thumped him in the chest with a finger. “I’m going with you to court. Did you know that?”
He blinked and reeled. Slowly, he shook his head.
“Dinna tell me that.” Algut went cold.
He’d spent a winter in hell. Cheya haunted his dreams and followed him everywhere he went. He couldn’t turn a corner in his own home without thinking of her. He smelled her musky scent in his sleep, even. Every yellow thing he’d seen set his mind to remembering her hair. Everything black—rocks, pools of water, his cloak—reminded him of her eyes. He’d frozen himself plumb near to death a few times, refusing to wear that bloody cloak.
He pulled on the clasp again. It didn’t come loose. He cursed it. After today, he’d likely burn it.
She watched him fumble with the clasp some more. ’Twas amusing her, he could see that, and that just irritated him more. Fian couldn’t be planning to take her with them.
By the time the summons came from Brack, he’d determined to work her out of his system, if he had to make love to every gal at court. How could he manage that with her around every corner in truth?
Posted by CarysWeldonblog ::
5:36 AM ::
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Ouch - migraines are horrible. I hope you're feeling better soon.
lol Hope you get over your migraine and get some too. Sorry about the computer. I do that all the time too. And usually freeze up my computer about 4 or 5 times a night.
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