Medieval Monday, autumn-style
WEEK 5
Another week of Medieval Monday!
Check out Medieval Romance Lovers as we share in the fall theme of "Nature" in our excerpts from our medieval stories. You’ll see weekly snippets each Monday on our blogs. And since I live in New England, home to memorable fall foliage, I will continue to try to post some photos!
My post last week (week 4) was delayed due to a family health emergency, so if you missed it, be sure to read it here.
I encourage you to follow along with all the other Medieval Monday authors on the Facebook page here. You will find the links to their blogs where they are sharing their snippets. There may be even be some giveaways on the page…
You can also find us on Twitter at #MedMonFall20
This week’s snippet…
Set-up:
Domhnall is a Seer who descends from powerful Ancients with mystical abilities. He suffers from terrible visions of the Sight, an affliction that comes with each touch, except with Rosalie. He is taking Rosalie on a stroll through the village. They come upon the loch shore and he suggests they collect pebbles for her necklace-making. Rosalie is a crafter and fortune-teller, scrimping to make ends meet and support her uncle and aunt, but she is also on the run from a vengeful noblewoman not pleased with her readings. She tells lies for a living. Domhnall believes her to be a true seer.
Slioch, Highlands.
Last week’s snippet is here. Now week 5…
He felt less foolish sharing with Rosalie about his family’s stories and heritage. They both worked quietly, lost in thought. The morning’s sun dappled gold in the choppy blue-green loch. He gloried in the day’s coolness, a break from the oppressive heat, and the momentary respite with Rosalie. He loved her inquisitiveness. She was unlike many of the lassies or ladies. Boring, most of them. “I can have our village stonemason bore holes in the pebbles for you, for easier threading.”
She was right beside him. She jerked her head up.
“That would be kind—”
Their heads collided. “Oh.” She clutched her forehead and stumbled.
He dropped the stones from his hand and grabbed her before she could fall into the water. They toppled onto the pebbly shore. He laughed, she smirked. “I’ve heard of hard-headed, but graces.” She rubbed her forehead, the crease returning in a pink spot. His head rang, and not just from the bump.
Her chest heaved from exhilaration and she frowned. He kissed the corner of her mouth “Sorry,” he breathed, holding her, close.
“It’s just a bump. I’ll be fine.” She rubbed her head with emphasis, not taking her eyes off his.
“No, not that. For, er…” Blazes, why could he not string his words together when around her? “For kissing you. Not proper. Shouldn’t have.” Words said one thing, body said another. He didn’t release her.
“No apology needed. And not everything needs to be proper or planned.”
Stay Tuned….
