Denise's Den
Welcome to the den of Historical and Inspirational Romance Author, Denise Patrick
Come on in, curl up with a good book (hopefully one of mine), and stay awhile.
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Teaser Tuesday
As you know if you read this blog, I don't post much. In fact, it can go for months with no posts at all. I admit, I'm terrible at blogging. I don't have much to say most of the time. But, another author I'm on a loop with is trying to start a new meme of sorts she calls "Teaser Tuesday" and post short pieces from our works. This might actually be something I can do, so I'm going to try it. So, today's teaser is from my most recent release, The Scarred Heart.  Enjoy!
(Don't forget to go to her blog and read her teaser, too.)
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“You must be losing your touch, Lion, old boy,” Viscount Royden observed as he watched his opponent’s ball spin neatly out of the pocket of the billiard table. “Scotland’s made you soft.”

The amused chuckle that came from Viscount Lanyon was genuine as he observed his friend taking his place. “Not any more so than you, I suspect,” came the reply.

Royden took his shot and neatly pocketed two balls. He looked up at his friend and grinned.

“Been practicing, have we?” taunted Lion.

“Obviously more than you have,” came the reply. “What have you been doing up there?”

Lion laughed. “Obviously not whiling my time away playing billiards. Been bored for the last nine months have we, Max?”

“Bored? Me?” Royden tried to sound offended. “You haven’t spent much time in my wife’s company, so I will allow the comment to pass.”

The familiar bantering with a good friend was just what Lion needed these days. He watched Royden cross the carpet and refill his glass from the sideboard.What would his friend think if he knew what Lion had actually been doing up north?

Lion took a hearty swig of the amber liquid, feeling it burn all the way down to his stomach. Turning, he paced across the carpet to the window and stared out at the stark November landscape. The weak sun cast its rays through tree branches bereft of leaves. By northern England and Scotland standards, it was only nippy, but here it was cold indeed. Winter was not far off. At nearly four in the afternoon, the sun was setting fast.

“Your Sarah is a beauty, I’ll grant you.” She wouldn’t hold a candle to my Emma. “One wonders what she saw in you.”

Max laughed. “It was a near thing.”

Two women walked by, both swathed from head to toe in fashionable woolen cloaks, fur muffs, scarves and bonnets. Although he hadn’t been formally introduced to her yet, having arrived while she was out, he recognized Lady Royden when she turned and glanced toward the house. The other woman did not look, but he noted a lock of what looked to be red hair had escaped her bonnet and trailed over a slim shoulder. His interest was piqued and he willed her to turn as well, but she didn’t. Moments later the two women turned a corner and were lost from view.


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