This post is part of ‘WORLDS WITHIN WORLDS’, a series of writings about Prunella (Ella) Smith, author, editor & reviewer, and the many worlds she inhabits: her physical reality; her online world where disgruntled author Dita stalks; the worlds of the books she edits; her dream world, and the world beneath the veil of her ordinary reality.
Click here for the previous offerings in reverse order, or here for links to them in order.
Today Prunella is editing a romance novel: Kelee’s story.
WWW#14 Lovers in the forest
Kelee snuggled up to Blade, hoping that Miramar’s herbs worked. they did—mostly. She certainly couldn’t afford an unwanted pregnancy. Part of her knew it wouldn’t be totally unwanted though; if the choice were possible, she would choose Blade to be the father of the children she would one day have one day. Perhaps, if she did find herself pregnant with his child, they may allow her to marry him.
She sighed and opened her eyes. The forest closed in around them like a protective cloak, and the leaves made a soft bed beneath their blanket. Would they ever sleep together in a real bed? She wondered.
Blades’ eyes opened. He turned his head, looked at her [gazed into her eyes] and smiled. ‘What’s the big sigh for?’ he asked.
‘Just … nothing.’
‘Hmm.’ He pulled her closer and stroked her hair, clearly not fooled for a moment. ‘We’ll find a way.’
“I love you. You know that, don’t you?’
“Of course, and I love you too.’ He rolled onto his side and kissed her gently on her lips. “But we should go, we can’t afford to make anyone suspicious.’
Keley nodded and sat up. The horses waited patiently nearby, chomping on their bits. Her horse [name] whickered gently, answered by Blade’s gelding. They would have preferred to be left grazing in the field instead of hidden in the forest, but had if anyone seen saw them riderless…
Blade buttoned his fly, and Kelee pulled her underwear on beneath her skirt. Her [choice of] clothing was a secret message to her lover. A skirt meant she had time for love making. When[ever] she met him for her morning ride dressed the old fashioned way, he always greeted her with a wide smile and twinkling eyes when she met him for her morning ride dressed the old fashioned way. He stood first and offered her his hand. She grasped it and let him help her to her feet, then stepped aside and smoothed down her embroidered skirt while he folded the blanket.
They untied the horses and led them through the undergrowth. Close to the field where light was filtering filtered into the forest from the open field when, they heard it—the pounding of horses hooves set onto a trot, then pound the earth gallop and fading into the distance riding away. Keley [gasped; her] eyes widened and she turned to Blade with a gasp.
He met her look with a frown. “We’ll take the short cut to the well, then double back; it’ll make it look like we took the long path.”
Keley nodded. Had the rider been spying on them? A terrible feeling of doom settled over her, and Blade said nothing as he mounted his horse, his usual cheerful demeanour replaced by an uncharacteristic gloom.
Prunella sighed and stretched her arms behind her, opening her chest. Too much sitting at the computer made her dancer’s body feel tight and cramped. Poor Keley; Ella couldn’t see this going well for her. The dictates of the romance genre require the lovers to be separated. Authors were so mean to their characters. The poor things suffered so readers could have lots of gripping drama. She consoled herself that romance also required a happy ending. Keley didn’t know that though, did she?
Shit, that should all be in first person present. Let’s try it again.
I sigh and stretch my arms behind me, opening my chest. Too much sitting at the computer makes my dancer’s body feel tight and cramped. Poor Kelee (Why does my autocorrect keep changing that to Keley? It’s a bloody pest); I can’t see this going well for her. Authors are so mean to their characters. The poor things suffer so readers can have gripping drama. But the dictates of the romance genre require the lovers to be separated—there’d be no plot otherwise. Luckily, it also requires a happy ending. Keley doesn’t know that though, does she? [Damn; it did it again. It’s Mêlée, you stupid computer. What? Where the hell did Mêlée come from? What kind of a word is it anyway? Kelee. It’s Kelee. Get that into your processor!
Clearly, I need a break.
Time for a cup of tea.
