Kate Warren

Greetings friends and readers!  Welcome to another wonderful edition of: 

a blog-hop wherein writers around the world share 8 sentences of their work for your reading pleasure.  Click on the banner above to get the whole list of participating authors, complete with links right to their WeWriWa posts!

This week in KateWarrenLand I'm still having headaches.  I'm actually typing with my shades/sunglasses on to keep my eyeballs from exploding due to the glare of the computer screen.  Hopefully I'll be feeling better tomorrow.  May be time for a massage, or a visit to the chiropractor.

Anyhow, here we are in Chapter 9 of The DeFord Chronicles, Part II with Duncan and Gillian.  Last week Duncan used perhaps THE smoothest 15th century pick-up line.  This week: Gillian reacts...

          She blushed and looked away.  “I am no angel, my lord.”  Her voice held a faint trace of irritation. 
          She began to move away and Duncan’s spirits sank.  A bit of color shone in the corner of his eye and he recognized it as the maiden’s book.  She must have dropped it in her concern for him, though he had not heard it fall--he had been too concerned with the thudding sound of his body hitting the floor.  Duncan quickly snatched up the book and hurried to catch up with her.
          “My lady!”




Not quite the reaction he was anticipating, but for Duncan, that only enhances her charms. He likes a challenge. ;)


See you around the 'hop.


Kate

It's the weekend again, and here we are basking in literary excerpts once more. Eight lines of poetry or prose can lift us to the heights, or plunge us to the depths, as wordsmiths blithely toy with our emotions.  Yes, that includes me. ;)

If you wish to join in the fun, either in reading or in posting (or how about both?) along with the Weekend Writing Warriors, click on the image below.

Continuing from last week...after literally falling for his dream girl, Duncan lost his heart in her eyes and her readily expressed concern for him.  Let's see where it goes from there. *creative punctuation has been used*


          He rose with as much grace as he could muster under the circumstances and stared at her without being remotely abashed. 
          The lady made no comment, merely looked at him for what seemed like both hours and mere seconds.  “What is your name?”
          “Duncan.  What is yours, will I be able to say it?”
          She frowned slightly, confused.  “Why should you not?”
          “I have heard that angels’ names are not fit for human tongues--and you must surely be an angel.”



That Duncan is such a sweet-talker, but he's never used that line before.  This girl brings out his inner poet.

I'm battling another bad headache tonight, but hoping it won't be plaguing me tomorrow.  

Kate

Good morning. At least it's morning as I'm typing. If you're reading this later in the day, good afternoon or good evening.

Another weekend, another eight sentences.  Today we're continuing from where we left off in Chapter 9 of The DeFord Chronicles, Part II, with Duncan St. Robert about to meet someone who could be very important to him...


          His heart stopped beating in his chest, and then resumed at a galloping pace.  This maiden had alabaster skin and delicate brows framing eyes that beckoned to him despite the fact that she had not seen him.  He could not tell the color of those enchanting orbs and he felt as if his life’s work must be to discover their hue. 
          Duncan squared his shoulders, took ten steps toward her…and tripped. 
          Red curls appeared in front of his face.  “Are you hurt?”  He looked up into gray-green eyes filled with concern for him, and in that instant lost his heart. 
          “I feel no pain,”  he said truthfully.




The poor boy didn't stand a chance. For the record, Duncan fully and wholeheartedly believes in love at first sight. I'm taking votes...would you like to continue from here next weekend, or would you prefer something random?

See you around the WeWriWa blog hop!

Kate

Welcome back to KateWarrenLand for another episode of #8Sunday.  We dauntless Weekend Writing Warriors post eight sentences of our work each weekend.  Click above for the list of authors who are participating this week.

I'm going back in time this week, because I wanted to find something less depressing to post.  And so we pick up at the very beginning of Chapter 9 in The DeFord Chronicles, Part II.


          Duncan St. Robert slowly moved away from the glum Duke of Langdon. The man had everything and he behaved as if he were the lowest beggar at times. Low spirits were not for Duncan. He went in search of diversion, be it gaming, hunting, or feasting. Room after room he searched and found nothing. The gardens were irksomely empty. On his third visit to the great hall his attention was caught by a mass of copper curls. 
          The maiden stood with her back to him, and her riot of red locks reached to her waist, set off perfectly by the turquoise color of her gown. She appeared to be reading a book, unaware of her surroundings. Duncan edged closer, hoping for a better look and then she turned.


  One of Chauncy DeFord's dearest friends, Duncan is something of a player, though a harmless one. He's never been in love, and has very few serious thoughts in his head.  His sisters say that when he falls, he's going to fall hard. 

That's all from me this week.  I hope everyone is having a wonderful weekend.  Thank you to those who read, and to those who comment.  I'll see you as I make the rounds visiting my fellow-authors blogs.

Kate

Hello, friends and readers.  Welcome to my first WeWriWa post of 2015!
It's great to be back...again.  Tonight wraps up my birthday week, and I have to say that I highly recommend both the movie "Into The Woods" and chocolate-cherry cake.

Two weeks ago, Lord Everard Carlisle got seriously dissed by Count Marcel DuClerque (and trust me, the guy totally deserved it).  This weekend I must choose between posting the very next eight sentences, or going back to my signature "random scrolling method."  *cue theme from Jeopardy!*

Going way back in time to Chapter 12, we have our first tragedy of the novel.  A poisoned arrow meant for the Crown Prince has instead struck a member of the royal party named Andrew Boyd.  His wife Eleanor is there, as is a healer who has explained that there is nothing to be done.  Eleanor knows there isn't much time left.


          She strained to hear his voice. “Don’t want you… see me this way.  Go.”
          “I will not!” she cried, pressing a kiss to his hand, her tears the only warmth she felt as his pulse began to weaken.  His breath was coming harder now.  She looked in his eyes and saw fear that made her weep even more.  Andrew had never feared anything.
          He whispered “Mercy…oh Lord” and was still.


Andrew didn't even learn before dying that Eleanor was with child again.  It still breaks me up to read this scene, years after writing it.

I'll see you all around the web, and I promise to post something less depressing next week, should the scrolling cooperate.

Kate