When writing a novel, I sometimes envision a scene many chapters ahead of where I am. If I feel the scene is good and I’m afraid I might later lose the feel for writing it, I stop and write a quick draft for it.
Sometimes after returning to the novel and writing several thousand more words, I discover the scene in which I thought was so great no longer has a place. This is what happened with the short scene below. Perhaps I can fit it into another book in the series.
Setting the Scene: It’s raining—according to my daughter, all good kisses occur in the rain, particularly first ones (wink). Bronwyn was ambushed by three men and some sort of beast earlier in the scene, and when his strength failed, a stranger arrived and helped him to defeat the enemy. He surveyed the scene as he caught his breath…
The stranger stood strong in the midst of the battlefield. With the smoke blowing across their path and the rain obscuring Bronwyn’s view, it was impossible to identify the woman who had helped reduce the enemy to rubble. Whoever she was, he felt a tug in his gut to run to her, thank her for helping him when he needed it most.
But Bronwyn held back. What did this stranger want in return for her help? He decided his answer would be no if she asked to travel with him. The pain of losing Alaura was too fresh, too deep; he wasn’t ready to have a female travelling companion. He caught his breath and stalled the tears as Alaura’s image passed before his eyes. He’d go to his grave before he’d kiss another.
The stranger pulled the hood of her cloak from her head as she stepped through the mud and puddles, and around the bodies. It was only then Bronwyn recognised familiar features. Her dark blonde hair was pulled back into a single braid and the stone necklace resting in the hollow of her neck glistened in the rain.
Bronwyn stared in shock. It couldn’t be! He had seen her die with his own eyes.
The woman stopped ten feet away and gawked at him as if she were seeing a spirit. “Bronwyn?” Alaura’s voice cracked with emotion. “But I…I saw you fall to your death. How could you…”
Bronwyn walked with determined strides to Alaura. She was alive! His eyes weren’t lying to him. He cursed himself again for exposing her to the dangers that he thought had claimed her. Clutching her shoulders, he drew her near and dove into the sea of her brown eyes. The rain was powerless to extinguish the fire racing through his blood. The spark ignited many years ago danced in the waves, enticing him to surrender to the passion that flared within. Gathering the remainder of his will power, he reined-in his emotions.
He felt her arm rise and her finger trace the edge of his bottom lip. His gaze fell upon her lips, wet from the rain and trembling. From years of admiring her delicate mouth, he knew every curve, every crease. He had kissed them a thousand times in his dreams, both in the day and at night as their bodies curled together beneath tangled sheets.
The tingling sensation Alaura’s finger delivered to his blood went unchallenged. As the heat rose, Bronwyn surrendered to his desire. Leaning forward, he touched his lips to hers, caressing them as a light breeze would to create ripples on the surface of a pond. He pushed further into the kiss. Alaura’s lips were soft, forthcoming and as sweet as dew-soaked clover. A warm rush of blood flowed through his veins and sensations that lay dormant leapt to attention.
Alaura hesitated, but then like one who had not tasted food for several days, devoured his lips. The fire that had smouldered in her blood for many moons for this dwarf ignited and burned out of control. Her fingers entangled in his wet shirt and she held him tighter. Before they parted, she lingered on his bottom lip for one final drink. She basked in the ecstasy as it waned, hoping it wouldn’t fade entirely. Her eyelids felt heavy, but she forced them open to look upon him.
Bronwyn watched the wonderment disappear from her face. He had expected as much. After all, it was she who had pushed him away the many times before, avoiding any sort of relationship. Why had she let him kiss her if she didn’t want to be kissed? Was she playing some sort of twisted game? Would she someday betray his trust? Nevertheless, he was happy beyond measure knowing she was alive. They were together again and that was all that mattered.
Looking away, Alaura said, “We should leave here. There may still be danger.” Perhaps there was more danger here than that which threatened to take their lives. She stepped away and pulled her hood over her head. It was easier to conceal her sadness and regret beneath the garment. Pulling the cloak around her body, she gripped the material to shield her from the forces that wanted in and the desires that ached to escape.
“You’re right.” Bronwyn cleared his voice before it cracked again. “My horse…I mean, your pony, Clover, is this way.” He walked towards a small clump of trees near the clearing.
In minutes, they were mounted, and on their way towards Ellswire. Alaura clung tightly to his waist, resting her cheek in the hollow of his back as she had done many times before.
….Our hoof beats were many, but our hearts beat as one. ~ Author Unknown
Diane McGyver 