Saturday, March 19, 2016

Accolon IS tempted in Ch 11/Sc 1b of RAGING SEA by @KimHeadlee #amwriting

Graphic overlay c2016 by Kim Headlee.
As far as I know, I'm the only author of Arthurian fiction who has given any thought to the viewpoint of  Morgan le Fay's favorite lover, Sir Accolon.

To give Accolon some depth, and in keeping with fine Arthurian tradition, I made him be the best friend of Morghe's husband Urien. Unlike with Lancelot, Guinevere, and Arthur, however, in The Dragon's Dove Chronicles the friendship shared between Urien and Accolon was in place long before either of them had met Morghe.

All of that to say, there is much more at stake here than just two random (if powerful) men butting heads over the same woman.

In today's excerpt of Raging Sea, Accolon begins to get an inkling of just how hot burns the fire that he secretly yearns to play with.


Previous excerpts of Raging Sea 
Chapters 1–6 in Raging Sea: Reckonings
 Chapter 7: Sc 1 | Sc 2 | Sc 3 | Sc 4 | Sc 5a | Sc 5b |
Chapter 8: Sc 1a | Sc 1b | Sc 2 | Sc 3a | Sc 3b |
Chapter 9: Sc 1a | Sc 1b | Sc 1c | Sc 1d | Sc 1e |
Chapter 10: Sc 1a | Sc 1b | Sc 2a | Sc 2b | Sc 3a | Sc 3b | Sc 3c |
Chapter 11: Sc 1a |

Raging Sea Chapter 11, Scene 1b
©2016 by Kim Headlee
All rights reserved.

“Practicing your diplomacy, I see.”

Accolon turned. Morghe was wiping her hands on a cloth and grinning. She dropped the cloth onto the table and stepped around it to within arm’s length of him. Dressed in the plain-spun garb she favored while working inside this chamber, she looked more like a nun than the chieftainess of the most powerful clan of Brydein—and yet that only heightened her allure.

To rein in his emotions, he tried to picture her in the former environment, on her knees with hands folded and head bowed. It didn’t help much.

He cleared his throat. “As are you, my lady.” To her raised eyebrow he added, “Excusing a servant from duty because of a mere cut.”

“Not so ‘mere’ as you might think. You didn’t see how long it took me to stanch the blood. Any deeper and she’d have lost the tip.” Not one trace of defensiveness marred her tone.

She undulated closer; he bridled the instinct to retreat. Nothing was happening between them, and nothing ever would.

“You summoned me, Chieftainess?”

“Indeed. How is your shoulder?” She laid a gentle hand upon the exact spot she had field-dressed last year despite the fact that he would have killed her if he hadn’t been hit by that damned spear. “I’ve noticed how you rub it sometimes.” Her pressure increased as she began small circling motions that did feel good once the sting abated.

He shrugged her hand away. “It is well enough, my lady. How may I serve you this day?”

She searched his face for God alone knew what, for God alone knew for how long. At last, she withdrew a small object from the pouch attached to her belt.

It was a loop of gold wire, curved and strung with three pearls of different colors: white, silver, and black.

She reached behind his head to pull his ear close to her lips. “I need you, Lord Accolon, to retrieve this bauble’s mate.”

Straightening, he resisted the urge to bristle. “Please permit me to remind you, Chieftainess, that groveling about on hands and knees is what slaves are for.”

Her laugh tinkled like a delicate bell as she smoothed her hair where it had been pulled back into its braid. “It isn’t lost.” She laid that warm, fragrant hand against his cheek… and of a sudden, groveling in the dirt at her feet was the only thing he could think about doing. Sheer force of will kept him upright, gazing into her alluring violet eyes. “Find the crofter who lives near the spot where you and I… danced last year, and bring him and everyone in his household to me.” She lowered her hand, and with the other one rolled the pearls between thumb and forefinger. “This will prove that I sent you.”

He felt a tingle as her fingertips brushed his palm in the act of giving him the earring. Another, lower part of him stirred awake too. To distract her from noticing it, he let his ire flare. “You must be mad if you think they can stay here. My lady.”

“Of course they shan’t.” She sidled closer, brushing the bulge with her hip. Damn her, he couldn’t prevent it from twitching. A slow, sultry smile parted her lips. It took his last shred of self-discipline to resist the temptation of sampling them. “That is why you shall be escorting all of us to Maun.”

It galled him to retreat, but he needed distance to keep from acting upon either of his suicidal desires—to kill her, or to take her right here and now. He dipped his head and backed toward the door. “You needn’t trouble yourself with this mission. I can arrange everything.” And I can complete my original mission at last.

***

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