Monday, July 16, 2012

Motivation Monday - 16/07/2012

I always struggle between Menage Monday and Motivation Monday this week; both always have such good prompts and that never makes the decision easier.
In the end, Motivation won for me because I cannot write about werewolves to save my life!
There, you know my weakness - anything remotely paranormal!

Well, to check out the prompt and other brilliant Motivation Monday entries, go here.

 My Entry

Worth A Wager?

“I never thought I'd see you again.”
“Just because you assaulted me last week?” he asked sardonically.
“It was in defence; you tried to ruin me!” she reminded him, backing up against a tree.
With an arm on either side of her, she was encircled. His gaze held her with unnerving steadiness. “What is the meaning of this, Mr Hunt?”
He leaned only a little closer but the effect it had on her was embarrassingly clear. He seemed pleased with the way she struggled to breathe. “Please just leave me.”
“You have to listen to me, Miss Turner.”
“Why on Earth should I do that?” She had no way to distance herself from him. Should only one member of the ton decide to visit Hyde Park now, her reputation would be as valuable as her maid’s paste-jewellery.
“Scream and you’ll be discovered far more easily by any passerby,” he warned, understanding her cautiousness.
“Why are you doing this to me?” she whispered.
“I need to speak to you.”
“Then hurry.”
“Your Mr Rivers isn’t the gentleman you think.”
“This coming from his rival,” she said dryly.
His face tightened and his eyes dropped into a tarnished silver that made him look entirely menacing. “Listen to me, Miss Turner.”
“What?” she croaked.
“It’s a wager. It’s all a wager.”
“I beg your pardon, what is?”
“You’re part of a wager between Rivers and I.”
“That is not funny, Mr Hunt!”
The man sounded genuinely anguished when he immediately said, “I know. God, I know it, but forgive me, it’s true.”
She said nothing for a while, wondering why he’d had such a change of heart when only recently he’d tried his best to isolate her at the Faversham Ball. “Why would you tell me this after so long?”
“He’s going to propose. The dolt said it was practically a done-deal,” he said bitterly. “I don’t want you to say yes to him.”
“He’s going to propose?”
He nodded confidently. “But I’m sure he doesn’t intend to stand by it.”
She let out a mirthless laugh, a short one that barely lasted a few seconds. It was only to stop the stab of incoming tears. “I should’ve known something was afoot.”
Silly girl that she was, she’d thought an Earl could have sought her as a wife. And when she was already twenty seven.
His eyebrows furrowed closer and confusion washed over his swarthy face. In a senseless moment of instinct only, he pulled her into his arms. She settled into him, the length of him much warmer than the tree she’d been resting on.
“What was put forward in this wager?”
He said nothing, then his voice grew quiet. Shameful. “A stallion.”
“Well, that’s nicer than a Shetland,” she replied, trying to inject a little optimism into her voice.
“I’m truly sorry. But if I could, Francesca, I’d like to visit tomorrow.”
She pulled back. “Why?”
“I want to court you in the way you deserve; with a heart completely yours.”

500 words (excluding the title)


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