But the muse came back this morning, and I have been a hermit today, staying at home and writing intermittently. And lo and behold, I think below will be a part of the Prologue for ‘Isabelle & Eldridge’ novel I’m currently working on.
Even though it was already an hour past curfew, Isabelle ran across the main garden decisively, not caring if her father was currently watching disapprovingly from his study above.
“Eldridge!” She shrieked as soon as she saw his slightly hunched figure on the wooden bench. Isabelle charged towards him in a staggering force, sobbing as soon as Eldridge wrapped his arms around her.
“Belle,” Eldridge forced her name out through a closed up throat. He bent his head, pressing the base of his nose to the crown of her head. “Oh, Belle,” he said desolately, hugging her tighter.
“Please…” she whimpered. “Please tell me that your father had spoken to mine; that…” She rubbed her damp face on Eldridge’s dark emerald velvet tunic. “Tell me that I don’t have to marry him!”
The lack of response from the Prince made her rear back, swollen eyes staring questioningly into his.
“I… uh…” He raked his nails through the mass of his hair, noticing the mild horror in Isabelle’s question. Throughout the years he had known Isabelle, she had annoyed, and even infuriated him. But never before had she ever rattled him. “Belle, such a thing isn’t customarily…”
“Damn to hell with customs!” Isabelle roared, stamping her feet on the well-clipped grass. “This… this is my…” She paused and inhaled with effort. “This is our future.”
Isabelle chewed industriously on her bottom lip, her body swaying back and forth. “Eldridge,” she called haltingly, “it is our future, isn’t it? You do… want to…”