Interested in what I’ve been writing. Each Sunday I will be sharing tidbits from stories I’ve written and ones I’m working on. So check back here on my blog. You never know what I’ll post next.
Well friends, I’m feeling a little romantic today. Not even sure why, but I am. So today’s snippet is a romantic interlude between Cara and Captain Khoury after he saves her life.
Khoury heard the splash before he saw her white head go under. It was a long moment before she surfaced. The stream was moving quickly, swollen from the spring thaw, and he knew from experience the placid-looking surface of the bend by the willow hid dangerously deep currents. The girl was either reckless or stupid. He watched as her head bobbed in the water, not high enough to get good air.
Damn it, she can’t swim, he thought with irritation as he raced to the edge and slipped the wool cloak from his shoulders. In one fluid movement, he dove into the water, bracing himself against the shock of ice that pierced his bones. Grasping her bodice, he propped her on his shoulder, face out of the water, and dragged her toward the shore. She coughed against him, violently expelling water from her lungs. By the time he dragged her out of the water and stood her next to him, she was breathing hard but not coughing anymore. Shaking, water dripping down her face, she stared up at him in surprise as his arms drew her closer to his body for warmth.
“Are you all right?” he asked, trying to quell his own shivering.
She nodded, but he could feel the hammering of her heart, its pounding shuddered through her whole body.
“Y-y-yes,” she chattered.
“Good. Then what the blazes were you doing out there?” His voice came out harsher than he intended.
She pulled back from him, shy of his anger, hands splayed on his wet shirt. “Getting willow for Ingrid.”
“Willow for Ingrid,” he mimicked. “You’re damn lucky I was here.” He led her to where his woolen cloak lay crumpled in the brush, still dry and warm from his body. Lifting it, he wrapped it around her shivering frame. She snuggled her nose in the furred collar. He rubbed her arms vigorously to warm her up, using the activity to warm himself. He shook his head and felt a strange urge to smile.
“What?” she asked defensively, her lower lip still a bit blue and sticking out petulantly.
“You,” he murmured. His need to keep her in sight still puzzled him but when he’d seen her leave for the woods, he’d followed her. And a good thing it was, too.
“What does that mean?” She snuggled deeper into the cloak, her eyes wide and moist.
“You just,” he paused to look at her, “have a knack for getting in trouble.”
And dragging me in after you, he thought.
Bradan’s comment about magic calling magic rolled around in his head. Was that why he’d had to follow her, or was she just young and pretty? She had a pleasant face, certainly, with large eyes, though pale, and long lashes. Her cheekbones were thin, her lips soft, but nothing special really. He couldn’t fathom why she drew him so strongly, but even now, he could feel the pull. It was like standing with his feet in the ocean’s outgoing tide.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
He shook his head dismissively.
“No, really. I don’t know what I’d do without you, Captain.”
He wasn’t sure what to say, wasn’t sure what he wanted. The intensity of her gaze drew him in, and his arms slipped around her small frame of their own accord. He tried to decide again if this was simply the call of magic blood or something else, something deeper.
When her eyes flickered to his mouth, he realized she felt the pull, too. It wasn’t just him. The curious longing blossomed into desire and he lowered his mouth to hers, quickly before good sense got the better of him.
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