Archive for October 12th, 2012

Please welcome fellow Rose Kae Elle Wheeler from The Wild Rose Press! I owe her and last week’s guest huge apologies. I was under the influence of a nasty head cold and got my days wrong. I’m so very sorry, and thank you for understanding to all who were inconvenienced in this snafu.

Now, onto our scene. 🙂

Lead in:

Pricilla is disturbed by a discrepancy she’s stumbled across regarding the harvest returns versus labor number in her position as Land Agent. So she sets out to question the Northern tenant, Silas Huntley, on her findings. Silas is highly offended. Sir Arnald, in the beginning, thinks seeing Silas set Lady Pricilla in her place would be highly amusing, until he remembers Silas, is a male chauvinist still living in medieval times.

Scene from The Unlikely Heroine:

Monsieur Huntley, ’tis only a simple question,” Lady Pricilla said primly.
Arnald detected her frustration as surely as Silas’s irritation. He imagined her lips in a grim line, and he’d be surprised if she were not standing with her hands on her hips. He hoped that was not the case.
“It sounds more like’n an accusation,” he returned. His tone hovered in a dangerous resonance.
“It is not an accusation, sir,” she said stiffly. “All I know is that there is a problem with the figures on your report. My research indicates this has been going on for some ten seasons. Perhaps longer.”
Arnald lifted his eyes to the low ceiling. As intelligent as he attributed Lady Pricilla, he’d have to take off marks for lack of subtlety. And what did she mean ‘ten seasons’?
Monsieur Huntley, kindly remove your hands from my person!” Lady Pricilla’s fury snapped Arnald into action. He swept into the room almost bumping into Lady Pricilla “kindly” being escorted from the small parlor. The sight that beget him had him hard pressed to keep his lips from curling. Dainty slippers dug into the shiny wood floors, gliding easily with Silas’s unwanted help.
Arnald wisely hid his amusement, noting the heightened color of her fury, tension, blatant.
“Silas,” Arnald acknowledged coolly.
“Sir Arnald.” Silas’s hands dropped from Lady Pricilla’s arm so suddenly, she would have tumbled backward had Arnald not snatched an arm to keep her upright. With a deft move, he maneuvered her slightly behind him. A slight huff of disgust reached his ears.
“I’ll not be accused of any misappropriation by the mouth of a chit,” Silas thundered. The walls shook with timbre pitch.
Arnald felt his self-appointed charge stiffen with outrage. “Silas,” Arnald said coldly. “Might I remind you, sir, you are speaking with an agent of the Crown. Designated, I might add, from Prince Charming, himself.”
Silas may have dropped his head in a submissive gesture, eyes lowered, but his shoulders registered disrespect.
“My apologies, Lady Pricilla.” Silas deferred in a mild tone, the gesture was offered as subterfuge, not genuine acquiescence.
Lady Pricilla bristled, ready with a retort of her own. At once, Arnald realized, she had not appreciated someone speaking on her behalf. “Monsieur Huntley—” she started.

On the other hand, it seemed knowing when to stop was not in her conscionable abilities. 

Want more?


Pricilla is one damsel who does not need rescuing by a Prince Charming unlike her sister, Cinderella. She is a woman with brains and determined to use them as Chalmers Kingdom’s first female Land Agent. 

Sir Arnald is used to women falling at his feet.  After all, his mother’s magical matchmaking machinations are all too obvious. Yet somehow Lady Pricilla is immune to these hexes and those of his own compellation powers. 

Things turn deadly when Pricilla and Arnald stumble upon a hoard of villains smuggling goods.  Where true love discovers them.

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