Fans of Eloisa James & Julia Quinn discussion
Monday Puzzler
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April 21, 2014 Puzzler
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I'm with Manda here; looking forward to the disclosure.
Manda wrote: "I'm intrigued. It sounds familiar, but that might simply be because I've read countless girls in breeches and nobleman/highwayman stories! Don't have a guess. Though you might want to pop in and ed..."Thanks but it took three readings to find it.
Susan
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Mod
So, who IS the heroine with mud in her hair and a gleam in her eye that Hero can't resist?
And the books is Unladylike Pursuits by Alyssa Goodnight
I am considering some mud in my yard....
Mod
I will definitely want to find this book and this author, who is new to me.
She wrote two great books about a Austen diary that gives advice which I absolutely love. In fact one discusses Kilts I will never look at them with out smiling. Austentatious and Austensiblity Yours check the spelling
Heroine wondered if she’d been wrong. She hadn’t believed it possible that this man was the owner of the cruel voice she had overheard, arranging the hold-ups and hissing out orders but perhaps it had just been wishful thinking. The possibility now loomed before her, nearly as depressing as her apparent failure as a heroine. She determinedly pushed her suspicion aside to focus on something over which she still had some measure of control.
At all costs, she must keep her identity a secret. Even a flicker of recognition and she could very well be in big trouble. It was true that she had never revealed her name to him, but surely he could find out who she was without much trouble. He struck her as being extremely thorough and efficient, not to mention utterly unsympathetic. She determinedly tried to keep her expression blank and innocent, then added a bit of sullen so as to be convincing as a boy.
“What the devil do you think you’re doing, boy?” he demanded. His voice was harsh and belittling, and it irritated heroine to no end.
Before she could prevent herself, she responded in kind.
“It is certainly no business of your!”
Heroine closed her eyes and wished that she could sink fully into the mud. Why hadn’t she troubled to disguise her voice or even altered her speech to match that of a stable boy?
Drat! Drat! Drat!
The brute was lying on top of her now, and so she had plenty of time to notice the disbelieving recognition in his eyes before she shut her own. Remaining silent, and hoping that she would disappear—or he would, she was unprepared when he reached up and plucked her cap off. She felt a few escaped curls spill out around her face.
“I thought so!: he said sharply. “What the devil are you doing out here?”
“I don’t really think that’s any of your concern, “Heroine said curtly. “Now do you think you might consider getting off of me? You’re rather heavy.”
He shifted his weight but continued to pin her down. He even had the nerve to grin at her! She gritted her teeth and kept silent.
Clearly amused, he spoke again, “Might I say that you are looking just as beautiful as the last time our paths crossed? No one wears mud quite so appealingly as you do.”
Heroine scowled, truly wishing she had the use of her hands.
“May I get up?” she bit out.
“Not until you explain what you’re doing out here, in the middle of nowhere, dressed as a boy and brandishing a pistol. You aren’t by any chance a highwayman are you ?” he asked soberly , eyebrows raised.
“Certainly not,“ she answered contemptuously, “I did , however, assume you might be one.”
He appeared willing to ignore the implication. “Well, if you’re not out here for some nefarious purpose, then why were you hiding? And how might you explain your unconventional mode of dress?” he asked, eyeing her snug breeches as a lazy smile.
Heroine felt color flood her face.
“There’s no time to explain,” she snapped irritable, “we might be overheard. You’ve already managed to make enough noise to real our presence to anyone in the vicinity.”
She tried to shift away from him, tried to pull her hands from his grasp, but it was hopeless and exhausting.
“On the contrary, we’ve plenty and appear to be quite conveniently alone. And I must say, I’m not the least bit uncomfortable.”
Heroine bit her lip to keep silent, wishing she could bit his instead.
The thought had her tensing in embarrassment and her eyes roaming everywhere, anywhere so that they did not meet his. Her next thought, if it was possible, was equally as shocking. She suddenly realized that if she really wanted to, she could kiss him, right this very minute. He face was positioned right above hers, and she guessed she could lean up just enough for their lips to touch before he realized what her intentions were. But then she’d be at his mercy, and she couldn’t imagine what to expect of such an eventuality.
Part of her wished she was brave enough to risk it, and the other part was appalled she’d even considered it. Still, she spent another moment doing just that. Once again, this time because of near-darkness, she was unable to discern the true color of his hair, but she could see that he was in need of a shave. Reflecting the moonlight, his teeth were straight and white and possessed of an almost predatory glow. She shivered, and when her eyes flicked up to his, she saw that he knew precisely what she considered. Now deceptively black with a bit of gilt at the edges his eyes taunted her, tempted her further. Until nervously, she tore her wide-eyed gaze away from his mesmerizing one to puff out a breath of almost feverish resolve.
She couldn’t do it. It would only stroke his ego, and she couldn’t be responsible for such an eventuality. That and she had to admit to being a bit skittish over the matter
From the corner of her eye, she saw him smile, but his apparent amusement couldn’t conceal the fact that his muscles had tensed along her own and now relaxed, just as hers did.
She needed to dislodge him and get away. Particularly as he had an extraordinarily annoying habit of reading her thoughts, absolutely nothing good could come of this. Faced with a standoff between them, she would most certainly lose. He appeared to be enjoying himself immensely, fully aware that he was interrupting her plans and content to do so. She would need to concede at least a modicum of control. Although lying as she was in the mud beneath him, she wondered if she could be considered to have even that much remaining to her.
“Very well, “heroine said stiffly. She had closed her eyes, knowing that to look at him would only make matters more difficult. For she had been correct about at least on thin: face to face, he really was intolerable. And yet, she grudgingly admitted, she liked him still. It was perverse.
Amazingly, the weight of his hands lifted hers the moment her eyes shuttered closed. She felt his knees tighten their hold on her sides but didn’t open her eyes. Perhaps he thought she was ever-so-gradually falling victim to his questionable brand of charm. She would pretend it was so and bide her time. As she massaged her bruised wrists above her, she answered him.
“I don’t know if you are aware,” she continued slowly and evenly, avoiding his eyes, but we’ve had several attacks by a highwayman in the area recently, and I have good reason to believe that there will be another attack tonight on this patch of road. So, if you’ll be good enough to get off of me and be on your merry way, I can retrieve my pistol and return to my post.”
“Surely you’re not serious?”
She faced him with a hard, silent stare, expecting it would be sufficiently convincing.
“Let me see if I understand correctly. You thought to disguise yourself, hide among the trees, and ambush the unsuspecting fellow with what is undoubtedly an empty pistol?”