Wordless Wednesday - 53

1824 postcard, University of Bangor

















Jamaican plantation, photo by TeacherJulia















Pirate ship, photo by Sunira

Poetry Train Monday - 53 - An Excerpt From My Gamekeeper Story

Here's another excerpt, this one from my Scottish gamekeeper story. This excerpt precedes the one I posted previously:



Scottish gamekeeper excerpt 2

This story is set in Scotland in the early 1820's. Lady Jocelyne Moncrieffe hides from her dangerous nephew in the highlands. Guthrie Carmichael, her gamekeeper, takes her to stay with his family, only to discover his sister - who raised her brothers from the age of twelve - is gravely ill. I've modelled Jocelyne after Neve Campbell, while Guthrie is modelled after Sean Bean.


Excerpt


In this murky gloom, Jean’s pale wasting body sent his thoughts back to the cell on the far side of town, to that day twenty-seven years past, when he’d run from his father’s bony grasp.

Guthrie’s stomach lurched and his chest suddenly hollowed, filled by a sickening weight that pressed on him.

His father had asked for them, for his children, for he’d known he hadn’t much time left. And as it turned out, he’d lasted only another four days.

Jean had taken them to the prison, had carried three-year-old Guthrie past the gargoyle faces hovering over the entrance and had pulled him, unwilling, through the dark passages, following the warden with his great jangling keys that had opened their father’s cell door.

The other boys were quiet and compliant, somehow sensing the serious nature of this visit. They followed Jean to the prison without any trouble, had filed past the monstrous stone faces without a shiver or complaint. It was only Guthrie who’d pulled back on Jean’s hand, afraid to go in, afraid of the stone walls and the timbered doors four inches thick. It had been Jean’s father as well, hadn’t it, dying there, and perhaps she too had been afraid to go in. Had wished for a hand to hold that wasn’t Guthrie’s tiny resisting one.


Jean tried to go to Father, struggling to rise on his filthy cot. But Guthrie clung to her, his arms and legs clamping around her body in a desperate grip. He wailed piteously, the pitch of it rising as she attempted to go near Father again.

Motioning Alastair to approach in her stead, Jean stood impatiently with the others, hiking Guthrie’s weight up when he began to sag down her undeveloped hips. And Guthrie, afraid of being set down, clamped on all the tighter, choking her neck in his desperation.

In the dim light through the rusted grating over the window, Guthrie saw Craig’s little face staring over at Father. Eyes round as boiled eggs and little fingers pulling absently at his lips.

Behind him, Guthrie heard low whispering as Alastair spoke with Father. Guthrie didn’t like Father's wheezy breath, the coughing. He didn't want to speak to this father. He wanted his old father, the laughing father. He longed to be scooped up and tossed into the air by strong hands, embraced by arms alive and filled with love. But all Guthrie felt in that dark cell was clutching, fearful desperation.

Father’s tone deepened, thickened. Not only babies cried, but men could, as well. Guthrie went very still from the shock of it, laying his cheek against Jean’s shoulder, relaxing his grip on her. She’d rocked him back and forth, turning to urge Lewis to go to Father next, and then Taggart.

Sniffles permeated the cell. Father spoke to each boy, his voice trembling. Craig grabbed onto Jean’s skirts, and Guthrie tensed once more as Jean reached down to take Craig by the shoulder, to nudge him gently forward. Guthrie whimpered as she took a step towards the cot.

“Hush now!” she hissed in his ear. Guthrie stilled abruptly. He pressed his face into Jean’s neck. Craig cried quietly at Father’s soft words.

Jean began to kneel, bringing Guthrie down to where Father could touch him. Guthrie didn’t remember much of what happened then.

Now in Jean’s room, he felt that same horror building in his chest, overflowing his gut. It never failed him with these memories. Perhaps his distress showed on his face, for wasn’t Lady Moncrieffe awake now, peering at him through the dark, her eyes glinting with concern?

Jerking her head to look at Jean, his mistress rose from her chair and attended to his sister. A few cursory checks and it was clear that Jean was sleeping undisturbed by any bad turn.

Rising, she asked, “Have you come to sit with her awhile?”

He couldn’t answer. Couldn’t speak. Only locked his gaze on hers.

“What is it, Mr. Carmichael?”

For some reason he couldn’t understand, that question, her voice, the expression in her eyes - a furious yearning rolled like a wave through his body, and Guthrie blinked at the tears burning his eyes and choking his throat.

Footsteps crept into the room behind him and Lady Moncrieffe glanced over his shoulder.

“D’ye need some sleep, then, or is Guthrie taking the watch?” Craig asked softly.

“I believe he was intending to give me some rest, but he looks much more tired than I am,” Lady Moncrieffe spoke up.

“I’ll take the next watch with her,” Craig said, heading past the others for the chair.

Before he really knew how it happened, Guthrie stood outside the door of the worn-out house, Lady Moncrieffe closing it behind them. He stared at her, watching her pull one of Jean’s threadbare shawls tighter about her shoulders.

“You looked as though you could use some air,” she said. A slender but determined arm slipped through his. She led him forward, their path easy to find in the grey dawn.

Where was she taking them? he wondered. She didn’t know the area at all.

Not far, it seemed. She stopped at a shelf of black basalt rock creeping up beside the path. When he continued to stand, as if bewildered, she all but pushed him down so that he sat on the ledge.

Her giggling roused him from his stupor.

“Was I this lively when I was the sleepwalker?” she asked, smiling.

He smiled back, though his stomach churned like rapids foaming over rocks. He remembered another doorway, a grander door than his sister’s. A door much like the one that kept the Inverness prison locked tight against the daylight.

His lady had turned in that doorway. Had kissed him and said, “I’ll be waiting.”

“What is it, Mr. Carmichael?” she asked again, her voice tinged with longing.

He looked at her, his heart beating at the sight of her. The faint grey light cast a bluish tint to her skin.

“Ye really don’t recall it, then? What ye did when I found ye wandering around in the night?”

He watched her recoil, as if his very words were noxious.

“No.” Her eyelids fluttered and her lips pressed together, as if she feared words that had already been spoken and too late to change them.

“I ought to tell ye, then. Should have done, before...” But he lost his way, in her brown eyes so filled with dread.

Her fingers closed around his arm. “Don’t feel that...you...oh...” Her voice trailed off and she turned her head, staring at the rock ledge and waiting for the blow to land. Guthrie felt her nearness, as if those inches didn't separate them. And suddenly they didn’t.

He pressed her against his body, covering her lips with his mouth.

All the moments of his life led to this one. Guthrie's senses screamed back to life with the taste of her. Opening his eyes, he found Lady Moncrieffe returning his gaze with naked fear. He released her.


“That’s something ye wouldna remember.” His words tumbled into the morning only to hang there, idiotic and humiliating to them both. Guthrie sat, staring at his feet. Wishing he’d never got up from his bed, had not lit the candle, not entered Jean’s room to find Lady Moncrieffe watching over his sister.

But angels could be swift with righteous anger. This one swung her slender arm with all the force of her injured pride. Her hand struck his face with a loud crack. Guthrie’s cheek flared with pain.

“You forget yourself, sir!”

“No. But I wish I could.”

“What was the meaning of that? Tell me plainly!”

“Ye said ye didna remember what ye did or said when I found ye sleepwalking. So I just showed ye.”

His mistress trembled with outrage. Her cheeks flushed and her eyes darkened with anger.

“When I brought ye back to Kinnoull,” he went on, “the second time - ye never woke. And we walked back, the whole way. Ye spoke with me and I answered ye. Ye took me by the arm and walked with me, up to the castle door. As if we were sweet on each other. And then ye turned, and ye did to me what I just did to ye.”

His mistress looked at him in raw dismay. Guthrie dropped his gaze, unwilling to see her at such a loss.

“What more is there?” Her voice thickened with shame.

Without raising his head, he replied, “Ye said to me, ‘I’ll be waiting.’ And then ye went into the castle. And I stood there, wondering if ye meant fer me to follow.”

He peered at her, but she could not meet that look. She shut her eyes against the sight of him.

“And I wished that ye did mean fer me to follow," he said. "But I knew ye were dreaming. That ye thought I were someone else - yer husband, I figured. In yer dream, ye were trying to meet up with someone. That’s who I figured it were. Who else would ye be kissin’?”

“Not my lover, surely!”

Guthrie’s heart squeezed painfully. “I told ye - I knew ye didna mean me. But it didna stop me from standing there in an empty doorway, wondering what it would be like if ye had meant me.”

Copyright - Julia Smith - 2008

Bear and Endure

Photo by Lucid Nightmare


"Bear and endure: This sorrow will one day prove to be for your good."

- Ovid, Roman poet

Thursday Thirteen - 59 - 13 Reasons to Read Resisting Command by Jennifer Leeland

I took one look at this cover and knew I had to read this new release by Jennifer Leeland.

I can't resist a man on his knees.

It's one of the big reasons I love historicals, paranormal and fantasy. And ballet, too - the men are often kneeling. Gorgeously.

Not too much call for kneeling in the contemporary world. But in societies of yore, there was lots of it. And if you didn't show the proper deference, you could pay for it. Dearly. I get all shivery when a hulking warrior bows and kneels to a superior. So of course Jennifer's cover was a siren call I could not resist.

1 - Before we get to Resisting Command, let's set the tone for the world where Jennifer is about to take us. Her cover boldly states BDSM. For those who may be unfamiliar with that, it stands for Bondage and Discipline, Domination and Submission, Sadism and Masochism.

You may have heard me mention lately how much I love the BBC series Robin Hood. There's a delicious undercurrent of BDSM throughout the series. It takes place at the close of the 12th century, which guarantees master-servant themes, captives in bondage, power struggles between male rivals and between romantic partners. For me, what's not to love? It's all my favorite fictional scenarios.

If you'd like to dip your feet in these waters, have a look at the Domination and Submission relationship between the Sheriff of Nottingham and his lieutenant, Sir Guy of Gisborne.



The Sheriff is clearly sadistic, and Sir Guy shows a masochistic tendency as he remains loyal to the sheriff, subjecting himself to the treatment he knows will continue as long as he's in the sheriff's service.

Sir Guy is involved in another intense relationship with these overtones, this time with Lady Marian. They trade Domination and Submission aspects that seesaw between the two of them, each handing the power position back and forth.




2 - Now, let's make the jump from 12th century England to a 23rd century world, seething with chemical compounds that push humans' sexual natures into overdrive.

Like Robin Hood, the culture and technology of Jennifer's planetary colony lends itself to BDSM elements as a natural extension of its time and place. That's what I want in a BDSM story. It has to flow directly from the dynamics of the setting, as well as from the natures of the main characters. Historicals, fantasy and science fiction offer worlds where the symbolic power struggles and surrender of BDSM are played out not as a game, but as reality for the characters involved.

3 - Jennifer's novel is part of Liquid Silver's Science Fiction category. We meet the heroine, a scientist suddenly at the mercy of her own libido. The Synthetic Endorphin Xstacy found on the colony planet reduces even brilliant minds like hers to a seething mass of sexual fantasies. The hero is a Space Elite Tribunal soldier assigned to track down a Rogue agent - and the focus of her dark fantasies.

4 - Jenia Carstairs' domineering parents drilled their aspirations into their daughter to follow in their scientific footsteps. Her current job focuses on identifying the sex-hormone-inflaming substance on Asberek, a planet that Earth is keen to colonize. If she could keep her mind off her fantasies about Space Elite agent Paul Lestrano, that is.

5 - Paul Lestrano spent his childhood with fists flying, duking it out with anyone who gave him grief over his father, who died leading colonists to a new planet. Harnessing his violence into army service, Paul is now a soldier for the Tribunal, dealer of pain, keeper of secrets. Dr. Carstairs is part of his latest mission - and a hot button in her psych evaluation is Paul himself, object of her sexual craving in her Virtual Fantasy Room sessions.

6 - Jenia and Paul follow widely different career paths. She works tirelessly to uncover the secrets which the universe encrypts. He doggedly ensures that political secrets remain hidden - no matter what that requires of him. Yet Jenia and Paul both keep their personas under rigid control. Paul's decision to infiltrate her Virtual Fantasy Room session, hoping to gain access to Dr. Carstair's unguarded self, serves to introduce Paul to a secret of his own - his buried desire to submit.

7 - A strong suspense element runs through the novel, as Jenia and Paul work with a team of agents and scientists to unravel the cause of a mass killing spree among earlier colonists. Paul has his sights set on the Rogue agent, yet there may be more to it than one homicidal killing machine and his alien sympathizers.

8 - Jennifer has already set one story in this world, Taking Command. I love losing myself in a fictional world big enough to hold as many stories as the writer can explore. She has a third one in the works, Regaining Command.

9 - I really, really love Jennifer's relationship dynamic between Jenia and Paul in their sexual encounters, as well as their regular-life scenes. These characters have double-sided natures, yet both versions of Jenia complement each other, as do Paul's. His desire to be pushed past his implacable Space Elite exterior reaches through the page to touch the reader. Yet his Tribunal soldier skills snap into action as they travel deep into the Asberek jungle interior.

10 - Jennifer really knows how to end each chapter with a hook. Like this, for example:

" Once she got to her quarters, however, she wasn’t tired. Restless, she accessed some of the computer security. One of the advantages of having seniority on Asberek was being able to find anyone, any time.

For some reason, she wanted to know what Paul was doing. But she wasn’t obsessed.

Of course not.

The screen clicked through several corridors and found him in front of a Virtual Fantasy Room console. Well, well, well. And he hadn’t been careful either. She tsked and shook her head as she noted the Tribunal hadn’t put on his security codes for his VFR use.

She had easy access to his input.

Her eyes widened as she discovered what the man wanted to do. He wanted to do her. Specifically. Just as she requested him, he had demanded a holographic version of her. A smirk lifted her lips.

Well, we’ll see if two can play your game.

She clicked and tweaked his fantasy and headed for a VFR access door. This was going to be fun."

11 - This is a very steamy novel, dealing with BDSM subject matter. Sweet romance seekers need not apply!

12 - Jennifer also writes and blogs under the name Jennifer McKenzie. Visit her at The Redneck Romance Writer, where she often goes on hilarious rants known as Just Sayin'.

13 - I leave you with an excerpt. Enjoy!

" 'I’ll have to monitor her VFR use and I’ll keep you updated.' Paul manipulated a few buttons on his hand-held computer which gave him unlimited access to Asberek’s VFR system.

'Have you felt the effects of S.E.X. yet?' His boss’s tone was amused.

'I’ve been staying on the Zenith. I’ll be transferring to the planet tomorrow.'

'I hope you’re prepared.'

'I hope so, too.' Paul rang off. He wondered how he was going to handle the chemical from the planet. More than likely, he’d be like Dr. Carstairs. He didn’t seem to be affected by the space tension as others were, and women were primarily for information.

***

Repeat previous program, Dr. Carstairs?

The cursor blinked. Yes or no?

She cursed under her breath as she pressed 'yes' and the doors whooshed open. But as she entered the dark, opulent room, her nerves calmed and her muscles relaxed.

It was imperative that everything be in place. She checked the different toys on the rich cherry wood table. The rest of the room was dimly lit by candles. No bed, only a bench and soft carpet. She nodded. Everything was in place. Everything except the man she intended to control.

Her sexual energy grew as she waited. She liked having this short time before he appeared. The energy swirled around her and she gathered it to her like the wind gathered leaves. Her eyes were closed and she allowed her senses to sharpen. The smell of leather, a musk scent from the candles, and the tang of her sweat combined with the force she gathered.

Yes, she needed this. A sound made her open her eyes. In front of her, Paul Lestrano knelt before her in perfect submission.

* * *

It was risky. The alarm had gone off to notify Paul that Dr. Carstairs had accessed the VFR. He’d timed his entrance and now knelt before her as he knew she expected.

A feeling he didn’t want or need grew in his chest. This was what would fill his emptiness. To kneel. To give. To serve.

His gaze remained riveted on her black leather boots. She was in control here. The atmosphere in the room was electric, heavy. His heart thudded in his body. How was that possible? He, who knew no fear, could not control his fear and excitement in this moment.

He peeked from beneath his lashes and noted the tools she used and the dim lighting. The carpet beneath his knees caressed his skin. Even the clothing she’d chosen for him to wear seemed destined to push him to the edge and over it.

Finally, she crossed the room, the heels of her boots making no sound. He did not dare glance up. This was her fantasy and he could only be the submissive she expected or he’d never get the answers he needed.

But when she bent down and her hand gripped his chin to force him to meet her gaze, he forgot which answers he sought.

In real life, Jenia Carstairs had long, golden brown hair with unruly curls that she ruthlessly clipped back from her face. Her eyes were violet blue and usually cold and assessing.

In the VFR, Jenia Carstairs let that glorious hair free and her eyes were so hot they turned black. The tight leather corset and thigh high boots made his mouth water.

He closed his eyes as her scent wrapped around him, seduced him. When he opened them again, she stared at him with a curious expression on her face. 'Tonight, I will make you beg for me.'

Excitement and fear zinged through his blood. Her pert nose and high cheekbones were set in a determined face. She meant it. He was going to have to beg. His mind clouded. He needed to focus on the job.

Then, she stood up and bent over to whisper in his ear which gave him a clear view of her beautiful breasts. Her voice was deep and low as it rumbled through his body. 'You will writhe with need.'

He clenched his jaw. This was going to be difficult.

She went to the table and found a strange contraption he’d never seen before. It resembled handcuffs, but it had long chains and four locks. She gripped one of his wrists and jerked it behind his back. She brought his other wrist behind him and clicked them together with the cuffs. Then, she ran the chain down his spine and clicked his ankles together. The effect was complete helplessness.

His hands were immobilized and so were his feet. All he could do was stay on his knees and watch.

As she stepped in front of him, he glared at her. 'How will I writhe with need if I’m bound like this?'

Her eyes flared and she grabbed a handful of his hair to hold his gaze. 'You will be helpless, unable to do what I know you do best.' There was a tinge of bitterness in her tone.

'Let me show you what I can do,' he rumbled deep in his throat. God, he wanted to please her.

She slapped him with her other hand. The sting didn’t diminish his need one bit.

'You’ll do what I want you to do.' She released her grip on his hair and caressed his cheek.

'Why?' It slipped out before he could stop it.

She stared at him, her violet eyes shone in the candlelight. 'Full of questions tonight, aren’t we?' For a moment, he thought she knew he was no hologram. Then she smiled. 'But that’s nothing new.'

She untied her corset and it dropped to the floor. He swallowed as his throat was suddenly very dry. If desire was beautiful then she was its goddess."

- Jennifer Leeland, 2008


Join me next week when I review Amy Ruttan's Fox's Bride.

Wordless Wednesday - 52

Screen captures from Robin Hood episode titled "Walkabout", shot by Gareth Hughes

Poetry Train Monday - 52 - Scandalous

A Piece of My Mind is taking a walk on the dark side this week. Care to join me?

To set the mood for our journey, I'm posting the lyrics for Scandalous by Prince. He was a trendsetter for replacing full words with abbreviated symbols, now common in the text message world.


Scandalous

Come closer
Feel what U been dyin' 4
Don't be afraid, baby
Touch it and explode
Understand, understand that I love U
Ah, but more than that - I want U
Everybody always told me good things come 2 those who wait
But I've got so much on the menu
I just can't, I just can't, I can't wait, baby
I can't wait, baby
Till I can wrap my legs all around U girl
Cuz sugar, U know U're just the kind of lover
That I've been lookin' 4
2night why don't we skip all the foreplay, mama
And just get down here on the floor

Scandalous - I'm talkin' 'bout U and me
Marvelous - baby, baby, can't U see?
Anything U ever dreamed of, I'm willing 2 be
2night is gonna be scandalous
Cuz 2night I'm gonna be your fantasy


My dearest, my dearest

Whisper a question
With my body, I'll scream a reply
Anything's acceptable
Just ask me and I'll try it
2 hell with hesitations
2 hell with the reasons why

Baby, baby, baby

Oh girl, the things U make me do
Genius is the only way 2 describe U

Anything U ever dreamed of, baby
Just ask me - I'll do, I'll do, I'll do it 4 U, baby
Anything at all
Spirits rise and spirits fall
Anything U ever dreamed of, I'm willing 2 be
2night is gonna be scandalous
Cuz 2night I'm, 2night I'm gonna be your fantasy!

Scandalous
Marvelous

- Prince, 1989

Illustration by Boris Vallejo
for the cover of Barba the Slaver by Dael Forest

Here's an edited version of the song.

"None can see the wind but in its effects on the trees. Neither can we see emotions but in their effects on face and body." - Nathaniel LeTonnerre

'There is no joy in Mudville,' as Ernest L. Thayer would put it. And in Cole Harbour, Nova Scotia - hometown of Sidney Crosby - there's even church signs trying to cheer us up.

My post for today is a look at the emotions swirling through Sidney as he plays his longed-for first Stanley Cup playoffs, only to shake hands with winning Detroit goalie Chris Osgoode before withdrawing to the locker room.

To make life nearly unbearable, the CBC is threatening to let the license lapse on its Hockey Night in Canada theme. Just watch the reaction of these two toddlers on YouTube when they hear that theme start up on their TV.




If Sid could keep it together after seeing the Cup go to the Red Wings, he would crumble into tiny pieces if Hockey Night in Canada ditched its iconic theme.