I'm taking a great workshop from Nicole North this month, and one of the assignments we had was to take a picture that she'd given us and write a story about the scene. I really enjoyed this exercise (I enjoy telling the stories behind something--hence my fascination with historical romance), so I thought I'd post the results of my writing. I won't post the picture, because I'm not sure where to find it, but it was of a Renaissance-age woman and a knight, standing in a circular stairway, with her face to the wall, and him kissing/smelling the sleeve of her dress. Really touching picture. I imagined forbidden love, so this is what I wrote. 


Margaret could hear another pair of feet plodding on the stairs above her as she ascended. Could it be him? Not a minute behind her, Esther would be carting her heavy wedding gown. Even if it was Gregor, she daren't stop. Esther would pass him, as well, and if Margaret wasn't in her shift by the time her maid arrived, surely Esther would know. How could she not?

At the next turn of the stairs, Gregor appeared, dark eyes wide. For a moment, as she met his gaze, she felt that same electricity. The heat she had never felt with Graham pooled in her throat as she breathed in the musky scent of him. She turned to hide her face against the cold stone, pressing her hand to its rough surface as well, for support. Gregor backed against the wall, allowing her to pass, but the space in the stairwell was too narrow for them to avoid any contact. Her breasts grazed the hard armor that protected his precious heart, and she gasped. At the sound of her breath, he reached down and grasped her hand, pulling it to his face. She could feel his hot, moist breath on her skin, but his lips never touched her.

She took a ragged step toward her room, away from Gregor, but he stopped her this time, pressing her hand to his chest and kissing the fabric of her dress as she dragged herself away from him. Even through the folds of her sleeve, she could feel the heat of his lips against her arm. 

"Do not do this, my love," he whispered, the wrenching pain in her heart mirrored in his voice.

"It has already been done." She pulled at her arm, still captured in his grip, and dragged her hand to his face. "I will never forget you."

At the base of the stairs, the door opened. Margaret could hear Esther grunting under the weight of the dress as she tackled the stairs. In a hurried movement, Gregor turned his head and silently kissed the palm of her hand, then disappeared around the corner. Margaret ran up to her room, holding to her lips the last part of her body that would ever bear the imprint of his.