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Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Wickedly Wanton: Excerpt

I'm still psyched over the release of my first fill-length story. Anthologies are really cool, don't get me wrong.  I'm looking forward to being in the Passionately Ever After one, plus I'm still waiting to hear back on a couple of my submissions.
But my first solo story? I now know why people celebrate, you can be sure I did!

The closer they got to the manor house, the more nervous she became. Sabine watched the landscape roll past, alternatively glad Lord Severn sent his plush, gilt-edge carriage and wishing she’d insisted they’d walked. But she feared that if they’d walked, she would have changed her mind and convinced Faith to forget about this mad adventure.

This was more than sneaking out from their dormitory or playing pranks on her townhouse neighbors.

She smoothed her fingers down her gown, striving to unclench them from the material. She’d agreed to this because she wanted to know the sensuality of passion as well as to thumb her nose at Mr. Reddick—and her father.

But with each rotation of the carriage’s wheels, her resolve failed her, and Sabine wished she hadn’t accepted Lord Severn’s invitation.

“What did the footman say?” she asked Faith again, for possibly the fifth time since her friend had returned from her errand yesterday, flushed, excited, and whispering incessantly about today’s escapade.

“Nothing,” she said, and Sabine swore she bounced in her seat. “He nodded, bowed, and disappeared. If what Lord Severn promised us at the picnic is true, this will all be as silent as the grave.”

Sabine nodded and as they pulled up the long drive, the house came into view. It was a beautiful structure, large and equally proportioned. Curtained windows sat evenly spaced, and not a soul stirred in the open courtyard. Not even a dog, Sabine thought as she stepped out of the carriage.

The carriage pulled away, the driver and footman not looking in their direction. Eyes closed, Sabine turned to the entrance, praying she wouldn’t lose her nerve. It was far too late now. There was a note pinned to the highly polished oak door.

In strong, clear writing across the front read Miss Sabine Stanton.

The servants have been discharged and we’ve the house to ourselves for an afternoon of games and merriment.
We shall begin with a hunt. Through the house, into the gardens, make your way to the statue of Hermes. There you’ll find your first instructions.

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