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Welcome to the stories of romance author 
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Florida Territory--1820 "No, Marlowe, I will not hear another word about my 'blushing bride' until I've a drink in my hand!" The door hit the library wall with a crash as Justin Stephen Charles Delerue, Fifth Earl Smithton, strode toward the cupboard where he'd seen his host stash some inferior brandy. A small smile on his face, Peter Marlowe followed his best friend. It wasn't often he got to see Justin discomforted. They'd been close since school days, when Smithton had taken exception to three older boys pushing Marlowe around and had decided to even the odds. Smithton poured a generous serving of the brandy. "Keep pouring," Marlowe said dryly, "you're going to need it." | ||
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Florida Territory--1843 "Now what?" Rand muttered. He wasn't up to any practical jokes. He listened by the side of the shed and heard nothing for a few moments, then there was a muffled thud as something large fell to the ground, too big to be a raccoon. Rand walked over to the wood pile and grabbed a length of oak. "Alright, mister, I don't know what you and the Iveys are up to, but I want you to come out real slow now." There was no movement, but a muffled "snort" came from inside, and it occurred to him that maybe whoever was in there wasn't in there of his own free will. Still clutching the impromptu club, Rand put his hand on the latch and pulled hard, banging the door against the shed. He blinked into the darkness as dust and chaff swirled around, then looked down. And grinned. "Dang! I know I ain't got sugar on the supply list, darlin', so maybe you'd like to tell me what you're doing in my shed?" | ||
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Florida Territory--1822 "'Mishap', indeed!" Amanda said as the hatch closed behind the mate. She turned her attention to the pirate captain, who entered the cabin, set down the trunk and stood silently watching her, hands clasped behind his back. His looming presence made her uneasy, especially when she was flat on her back, so she pushed herself up to a seated position, leaning against the bulkhead. "Please sit down, Captain Si--Captain Roberts." Once he was seated she continued to study him. His face, what could be seen of it behind his beard, was darkened to mahogany by the tropical sun and deep lines fanned out from the corners of his eyes. The gray eyes were resolute, and they weren't young eyes. Given his position as captain of a crew of scoundrels, she knew he'd seen much and probably done things she couldn't imagine, so nothing would be served by beating around the bush with this man. She clasped her hands together in her lap. |
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