Quills and Quatros Publishing has started a Facebook Group – CoVoWriMo Writing Event. We authors, who have joined, have pledged to write a certain amount of words. In return, Q&Q will donate money to a charity we are voting on at this moment. We started March 19 and will go until April 9. I’ve pledged 5000 words. I thought I’d share my WIP as I go.
I’m working on Mary (although there have been requests for Darcy Undone). Maybe next book. Sorry Mel 😦 Here is what I’ve written so far. This is a rough draft, so any criticism that is constructive is most welcome.
He almost didn’t believe his ears. She’d whispered his name and if the widening of her eyes was any indication, she’d just realized it.
He didn’t know why he continued to seek her out. There was something about The Honorable Miss Mary Bennet that stirred his blood. The smart thing would be to stay as far away from her as possible because she was someone he could never marry, but then he never considered himself smart, so here he was, doing his best to make conversation with a prickly bear. An exceedingly beautiful, prickly bear who’d whispered his name. For some reason that made him want to thump his chest and crow.
As quickly as she’d flushed a deep pink, her face paled.
“Miss Bennet.” He caught her by the forearm and stopped her retreat. “Forgive me for making you feel uncomfortable. Let us take a walk around the room and I will leave you with your sister.”
He crooked his elbow and waited for her to take his arm. After a moment’s hesitation, she touched his arm lightly with her gloved hand and they began to stroll the edges of the ball room, looking as though they didn’t have a care in the world. He mentally kicked himself. She was as untried as a new filly and he was trying to saddle her up and take her into the field of battle. What was wrong with him? Given his behavior tonight, one might believe he’d never been with a woman before and had only just crawled out of his cave dragging a large club behind him while he looked for a mate.
He knew he was going to kiss her someday, but she didn’t know that. Well, she had a good indication now, after his less than subtle hint. He’d undergone numerous missions, interrogated too many to count prisoners of war, held a top secret designation with regard to future war plans, and had decoration upon decoration pinned to his collar for heroic deeds, yet one evening with a slip of a woman and he blurted his intentions into her perfectly shaped ear. Napoleon would win the war if he could bottle her essence into a weapon. It would have a lovely rose water scent, much like her hair.