A writing prompt, taken from River Witch, and here’s the extract.
The girl melts into the fog, her laugh echoing along the path. Jem chuckles, admiring her slim, sinewy form and the wild black curls she rarely covers, leaving a man to imagine the silkiness of them in his hands – or on his naked chest. A spirited maid, one to tame as he’s tamed the river which bends to his will these days, and nights, unlocking its riches. It’ll be the same with the girl.
He strides up into town and down the other side, to the Kings Shilling where he drinks a pint with his old friend, Ezra. His encounter with Hester has put him in an expansive mood and he needs to share his cheerfulness.
He takes a long draught of beer, wipes the froth from his beard. ‘Thinking of adding some bits of comfort to the cottage,’ he says, casually.
‘Oh?’ Ezra peers over the rim of his mug. ‘Earnings pretty good, huh?’ He winks.
Jem snorts. ‘Yeah, but it’s more about taking myself a wife.’
‘You? Marrying?’ Ezra’s brows rise. ‘Your Plain Jane caught you up at last, hey?
‘No! It ain’t her. No way!’ Jem throws back his shoulders. ‘Of course the girl’s mad about me, can see it in her moony eyes. Her mam won’t let it go, pushes her in my face whenever I’m anywhere near.’ He guffaws. ‘Like I don’t have choices!’
‘So who’s the fortunate maid?’
‘The Williams’ lass,’ Jem says. ‘Sim’s sister. The fey one.’
‘Ah! Yes. Black curls all a’flying. Seen her by the river, dreaming along. Fey? Rumour has it she’s touched in the head.’
‘Been let run wild, spoiled by her dad, Sim told me. Strange since a little ’un, he reckons. Sneaking about on the farm and their dad or mam not caring what she was up to, while he had to pick up the work she didn’t do.’
Ezra snorts. ‘Sounds too strong-minded.’
Jem upends the last of his ale. ‘Needs a firm hand, I reckon.’ He sets the mug down with a bang, wipes his mouth on his coat sleeve. ‘Besides, she cooks a tasty joint, is fit and young. Needs a man’s hand, is all.’
Ezra sniggers. ‘A man’s hand, indeed.’
Jem’s deep chuckles are so merry and loud, the tap room’s drinkers join in with the unheard joke.
Excepting one man, sitting alone at the next table. His much-faded yellow waistcoat and a beaver hat which has seen better days, mark him as an erstwhile gentleman and unusual customer at the King’s Shilling. Jem squints in his direction. His dark eyes with their glint of gold catch Jem’s and hold them, with neither a narrowing or a lightening. Jem turns away first and when, having drunk deeply after his heady laugh, he looks to the table, it’s empty.
If you want to read it all, click here
Good luck bending the girl to his will. It’ll be a first I’m sure LOL. A mysterious stranger. Sounds intriguing.
He has a battle on his hands for sure