Cat In A Diamond Dazzle

Chapter Interlude

Hysterical Again

Great to escape the hullabaloo of the crowd. A writer needs quiet to create. Now where was I? The jewels. Where could I hide them in a carriage? Maybe in the tire. Or weren't they inflatable then? Does it have a trunk? Hard to say. I know--

"The jewels?" Even in the moonlight, the lovely Amaianariala's skin was seen to pale. "My good sir, I have no jewels. My carriage was a ruse to divert dastardly robbers from the real treasure trove. The jewels are on their way to

Timbuktu. Was there a Timbuktu then? If not, where?

to Sicily."

"Cecily? Is this your sister?" he gruffed, brandishing his dagger.

The fair Aananamiklia was seen to blush. "I have no sister. Sicily is an island in the Mediterrean Sea."

"And I have no ship, so I am in no position to pursue the jewels by sea. I see. . . . Then--" The Demon Dagger of Devonshire grinned and leaped off his steed into the roadway.

In a moment the carriage door was jerked open so quickly that the lovely Amslslisdmkdl Dammit! Rotten, stupid name. Never comes out the same twice. Oh, well, fix it later.

tumbled to the road and right into the arms of the Demon Dagger of Devonshire.

"Aghhh!" she screamed. "Would you mind not brandishing your dagger, sir? It pricked me."

" 'Twill do more than prick you, madam, do you not do as I say you should do."

Hey, I'm really getting the hang of this flowery language. And that repeated use of "prick" isn't too shabby. A little subliminal sex never hurt anyone. Now what?

The duke's daughter swooned, so the Demon Dagger tossed her back into the carriage, ordered the driver to move on without any tricks and tied his faithful steed's reins to a Carriage wheel. Oops, that might strangle the damn, inconvenient horse. Ah!

lantern (thingamajiggy at the top, find word later).

Then he leaped into the carriage, his dagger between his teeth.

The comely Arianainla cowered in a corner.

Sex, remember, sexual tension.

The Demon Dagger thrust his dagger in

in ... in .. .his (belt? too modern) . . . sash!

his scarlet sash, and took out his

Finial!

That's the damn word I wanted to tie the reins to.

moneybag.

"I have no money," shrilled the lass.

"Luckily, I do," he rasped. "I don't want your money, I want justice."

"And for you, justice is--?" she inquired spiritedly.

"Whatever of the Baron's possessions I can take," he snarled, as he looked her lush, recumbent form up and down.

"What has my father ever done to you?" she cried.

He has transported my brother to the wilds of Australia, my other brother to the coal mines of Wales, my eldest sister to the gin mills and my youngest sister to the streets of San Francisco (check for time). And he has made a wanted man of me."

"You sound a thoroughly degenerate lot, sir. No doubt you deserved my father's treatment."

"But you will not deserve mine," he swore, sitting beside her on the seat of the carriage.

"What do you intend?" she said faintly.

Okay. Got to get down to the hard stuff. Where's that section in this one book? I can kind of. . . echo it. In my own original way, of course.

Moonlight washed through the casement carriage window like midnight lace, and painted the face of Lady Hester lovely Arianaina soft silver. Moonlight shone from the white silk shirt of the Demon Dagger, emphasizing his broad shoulders and narrow hips, his long limbs and pale long hair, his hairless face, his washboard stomach and rain barrel chest.

Say, rain barrel goes pretty well with washboard. Wonder if this is what the tipsheet meant when it said to avoid "laundry lists" of physical description? Maybe I'd better cut that washday analogy, save it for a rainy day. Heh-heh. Look at me! I can write wringers around these dumb romance hacks. Bet I win.