Linky Links

Blame Ginger Simpson for this blatant piece of promotion! Ginger runs a blog called Dishin' It Out, which you will find here:  mizging.Blogspot.com/  Her Linky Links spot gives authors a chance to shine by showing six paragraphs from one of their stories. I said I'd give it a go, so hopefully I can welcome several visitors to my blog who would otherwise never have found me.

My six paras are from a story called  Capture A Queen, which is as yet unpublished but currently going up, chapter by chapter, on Wattpad. Never been to Wattpad? Well, here's the link:
http://www.wattpad.com/37913888-capture-a-queen?d=ud

Perhaps I should say that Englishman Matho Spirston sets out to kidnap an infant Scottish Queen and falls foul of Meg Douglas, the half Scots, half English niece of Henry VIII.

He regarded her warily.

She chuckled, a gentle sound in the back of her throat. ‘There’s no need to be suspicious, or afraid. I am not about to seduce you.’

Yet already she stared at his mouth as if savouring its taste. Her shoulder touched his. Not roughly, but the move brought her closer enough for him to smell her warmth and perfume. He knew what would happen if he allowed himself to reciprocate. Already his body anticipated pleasure.

Drawn by the invitation in her eyes, he leaned closer and savoured her moist breath, tentatively matched his lips to hers. Warmth curled through him. Her fingertips rose to his shoulder, his throat, his jaw, trailed to the back of his neck, and threaded through his hair. As with any country girl of his acquaintance, he waited, letting his mouth do the work; then with the lightest of touches, his fingers drifted to her bosom, found the ridge of her corset and massaged the flesh of her breast above it.

A swift intake of breath rewarded his play, and her kiss deepened. Matho sought the edges of her bodice, pushed down and ran his fingers over the swelling stub of her nipple, round and over, and over and round again.

He wanted more, much more. He found her laces, slackened them and her bodice gaped an invitation. Lured by the mounds of her breasts, he ducked his head and grazed his teeth over her flesh. Her palm cupped the back of his head and pressed down, and somewhere among the wildness of his heartbeat, the small cries coming from her throat, and the plaintive whines of the puzzled dog, he heard the sound of hoof beats.