Oh, Big Lovely Kittens, it did warm up some on the tame prairie after a bitterly cold night. In the morning the sky was a bright impressive shade of blue. The birdies hopped about, feeding.
Later, as the white-line aerial spraying commenced, for several hours, it turned dull and cloudy-looking.
Meowsa, so sad these days. Beautiful blue skies are not allowed anymore.
Bleak Midwinter Flash, that was romance author’s PG Forte’s theme for Flash Fiction Sunday.
“In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone”
Here’s the Kougar’s flashie ~
He brought the dark green bottle in from chilling on her home’s frigid marble patio. Popping the cork, he filled their two flutes. She accepted the one he handed down to her, smiling, a generous curve of her lips. Not only did her eyes glisten, he swore her skin glistened with the luster of pearls every time he’d seen her smile.
Hell, he might as well have been socked in the gut the few times she’d turned and smiled at him.
He followed her gaze to the double translucent doors he’d just stepped through, and shut against the cold blast.
Outside, afternoon’s failing sunlight still sparkled on the frozen crystal that coated everything. The cast-iron garden statues held his attention the most, appearing to have arrived from their own magical mystical realms.
He’d admitted it a long while ago. That she utterly bewitched him, and intrigued his soul. He didn’t believe it was because she usually kept her distance from him, one rose he’d never sniffed or savored beneath him.
In truth, he remained uncertain why she allowed his company now.
Lounging against one of her favorite floor pillows, she saluted him with the newly poured champagne. “To the mid-winter.”
“To the mid-winter,” he echoed, saluting in return.
Since it was the best place to view her, he’d perched atop the substantial arm of a high-backed reading chair. Without a tinge of conscience, he indulged in her unique beauty. She wore nothing particularly revealing, or inviting to a man’s carnal nature. Her winter’s outfit was one for casual gatherings. The dark blue corduroy slacks hinted at her shapeliness, and a snowflake sweater only skimmed her plush, gorgeously round breasts. Her sensible, yet stylish shoes made him wish she’d kick them off as she often did when he visited her father.
Icy bubbles of champagne tickled her nose. He watched her delight in the sensation, then take the tiniest sip before raising the long-stemmed glass so the firelight scintillated through the pale amber fizz. Before he’d arrived, around noonish, to celebrate the holiday as a family friend, he knew she’d built the fire, now crackling happy notes in the moderately sized hearth. Because it was a sweet passion of hers.
“You haven’t tasted yet.” She repositioned herself, easing lower while keeping hold of the flute’s stem in a manner where not one drop spilled.
He tasted, tilting the glass up briefly.
Her presence intoxicated him far more than any champagne could. “Excellent,” he praised. It was, the bouquet sharp and sparkling on his tongue.
“It should be.” She sipped, long and slow, obviously relishing. “Why did you stay here with me, instead of–“
“I wanted to,” he interrupted. “The question is, why didn’t you join in the merrymaking?”
“Should I dare tell you part of the truth?”
“I simply felt tired, suddenly weary of the social gaiety. A quiet evening seemed far more preferable, at least, for now.”
“You’re not feeling ill, are you?”
“No, I’m in the pink of health.”
Gazing at the lazy content flames, she tipped up another sip and appeared to be basking in the warmth of the fire and the internal warmth provided by the champagne.
“Father wants me to marry you. I know he does.”
He halted the rise of his glass. Everything inside him stilled as if covered by an unexpected ice storm. Finally lowering his glass, he offered, “That’s news to me.”
Damn, if he could see her face he might know what she was thinking. The lines of her body gave nothing away.
“Is it news?”
“Your father never discussed that possibility.”
“No, he wouldn’t, would he?” She deftly rolled onto her back. Propped up by the pillow, she rested the champagne flute on her belly, her fingers lightly clutching the glass stem. “He would make certain, though, that we were together as many times as he could arrange it.”
“Is that why I’m here? To satisfy your father’s scheme?” Hell, firecrackers might as well be exploding inside him. To cool off he drank too much of the champagne, dizzying his head.
“Yes. And no.” She didn’t look at him.
Moving to the chair’s seat, he stared at her face. “What do you mean?”
“I find myself at a difficult crossroads.” Lifting the glass, she twisted it back and forth, observing the swirling flash of the hearth blazes.
“Crossroads,” he managed to utter past the lump in his throat.
“There is no particular man I find, who interests me. Yet, I am pursued for marriage like a prize thoroughbred filly.” She took a small sip. “I no longer care for that courtship-endless game. I’ve changed, grown. I’m ready to settle into a life of domesticity, that is, with certain assurances.”
Forcing himself to dangle his flute instead of crushing it, he asked, “Such as?”
“I have certain intellectual pursuits I want to continue. I require the freedom to explore them.” Her gaze fully met his, her eyes brilliant, intense and beyond compare. “I’ve heard from certain of my girlfriends that you’re an excellent lover.”
Raising his champagne, he took a large swallow. The glass empty, he set it on a side table. “What about love, falling in love?”
“Love hasn’t seen fit to strike my heart. Longing and moon-eyed crushes, yes, in the past.” She averted her face, focusing on the champagne.
“Would you follow your father’s wish so closely?”
“If it suits me.”
There was no question he would grab what she offered. “Yes.”
“Yes?” Her gaze flashed toward him, her hair swinging in lovely waves at the quickness of her movement.
“We’ve never even kissed.”
“A problem easily solved.”
She sat up, placing her flute on a fireside table. “Are you so certain you want a wife, the responsibilities of marriage?”
“I’ll be a faithful husband. I agree to your terms. Are there more?”
“Maybe.” She scrutinized him. “I haven’t thought it through.”
“Then, we should begin with a kiss.”
“We should. No use marrying if our lips don’t mate.”
Authoress news and mews ~
Featured at HAPPILY EVER AFTER ~
Career Week with Celia Yeary - The Military, a Boarding School, and Me.
“Imagine my surprise when I landed a teaching position in a co-ed military boarding school run by the Southern Baptists.”
Fill Your Ebook Reader Blog Tour ~ Coming on Friday, January 15th, the day of the FULL MOON.
The full list of books to be given away:
Waiting for the Big One by PG Forte
Flash of Dark by Sara Brooks
Rip Cord by Jeanne St. James
Doll by Juniper Bell
Once Bitten by Trina M. Lee
Huntress Prequel by Trina M. Lee
Bound by Deception by Christa Paige
Preja Vu by Alanna Coca
For a Price by Olivia Brynn
Fireproof by Tina Holland
Destiny’s Magick by Rae Morgan
Alitus, Tales of the Chosen by Kayelle Allen
Satisfy Me by Madison Scott
Baptism by Fire by Keira Ramsay
Black Cat Beauty by Savanna Kougar
Intimate Strangers by Gem Sivad
Bait by Annie Nicholas
Breathing Shallow by Stephanie Adkins
Now ~ FIRST! just for the big cool cats ~
Happy Courtship on another Earth
X-Serial Flash in Two Hundred ~ Sylva and Zeke’s story continues...
Part 378 ~
Sylva laid her head on her Zeke’s broad handsome shoulder, hugging him tight. For long minutes they simply held onto each other and she felt their heart energies embrace each other. “Come on, wife. I’m determined to feed you.” He stroked her hair back tenderly. Moving back a bit, he peered at her face. Sylva nodded. “It smells absolutely delicious, especially the bacon. I think I need something to wear,” she murmured to herself more than her cowboy. Sylva felt his reluctance to leave her. Still, he rose, then offered his hand. Smiling, Sylva allowed him to pull her upwards.
Zeke quelled the nervous nellies that had taken over his gut for his beautiful bride. Releasing her little hand, he slowly moved toward the doorway. It would be best to go on as they had been. Besides, his Sylva needed her grooming privacy. “No worries.” She gave him a sweet sexy smile. “I won’t be long. Suddenly, I’m starving.” Hearing the bell-tone that let him know his father returned his contact, Zeke blew her a kiss and moved to the com unit. “Son, how goes the honeymoon?” His father quirked a knowing grin. Zeke returned his own slowly curving grin.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Part 1 - 15 ~ see blog ~ January 15th Cometh, then Part 15... and before...
Part 16 ~ 377 ~ see the Kougar’s prior bloggies... or the Passionate Ink forum, the FREE READS page ~ http://passionateink.org/forum ~ OR! Now available on The Romance Studio Forum, January through December 2009 flashes ~ http://theromancestudio.com ~ Click on the FORUMS, then Savanna Kougar ~ the Fantasy Lair ~
Wish Upon on a Blue Moon New Year...
May your most romantic dreams come true...
Warmer winter kisses from the Kougar...