This bit comes near the beginning of Chapter 2. Okay. It IS the beginning of Chapter 2. Aggie has fled Scotland Yard, pursued by something dark, dangerous, ugly, and unseen. The last thing she remembers is pulling the trigger of a pistol. Caveat…Victorian England is foreign territory so ignore any slip ups in forms of address, etc. ‘kay? This is a very rough first draft and nowhere near ready for public consumption. Good thing you guys aren’t public, right? I’ll update my word count here in a bit. I hope you enjoy…

The voice, warm and comforting, wrapped around her like a favorite quilt and Aggie wanted to snuggle into it like she had as a child on a cold winter’s morn at school. Her lids fluttered despite her best efforts to remain asleep. A little part of her brain, painful and niggling, nudged her consciousness. She gave it a mental swat.

“Go away.” She mumbled the words, hoping to snuggle deeper into her quilt.

“Beg pardon?”

Her brain poked her again, sharper this time, more insistent. She raised her right arm, vaguely pushed at the muscular chest hovering nearby, and frowned when its mass didn’t move. Not in the slightest. Her eyelids blinked and she tried to keep them propped open so her eyes could focus. She blinked slowly. Then rapidly. Her pupils dilated. Her forehead crinkled. Her mouth gaped open and a scream gathered low in her throat ready to leap out. Bugging eyes surrounded by copper stared at her, their depths glowing red and sinister. Something black covered the upper portion of the face and head. Her throat closed around the scream and it strangled in mid-yeep. Panic threatened to choke off her breath.

“Oh dear. I am sorry.” The lips moved and that comforting voice washed over her again. A strong hand with long, supple fingers brushed across the back of her hand as it traveled up to the face. In a flash, the glowing metal eyes disappeared.

For a very long moment, Aggie stared into seemingly fathomless eyes. The nearest streetlight was too far away for her to tell the color but the inherent kindness in them surprised her.

“Don’t move now. You took a nasty bump to the head and your left arm and shoulder have been damaged. I do believe I’ve managed to stop the bleeding but I don’t want to jostle you any more than necessary.”

“D-damaged?” She glanced down and almost swooned again. Shredded and bloodied, the bodice and sleeve of her dress hung in tatters. Had claws or teeth raked her skin? She couldn’t remember. She shivered and shook the cobwebs from her head. The horror of the night struck her full force as her memory returned. “Geoff.” His name hung between her and her rescuer. “I tripped over his body.” She leaned around his rather wide—and muscular body—to look back toward the direction of the Yard. “I need to report it.”

“No,” her rescuer countermanded. “You need to get to hospital to be treated by a doctor. I fear my medical skills are rudimentary at best.”

“No.” She remained insistent. “I need to report it. And I am a doctor. My medical skills are top notch at worst.”

He smiled, one corner of his mouth curling in a devastatingly handsome if slightly distracted grin. “You sound rather sure of yourself.” He glanced at her shoulder and arm. “Especially given the circumstances.”

She tried to get up and grimaced as pain shot through her left side. She suspected damaged was a rather mild word for her injuries. “May I have a hand up, please?” It galled her that she had to depend on this stranger’s help.

As if reading her mind, he extended his hand. “Jack. Jack Somerset.”

She swallowed. Which was the wrong thing to do. Choking and hacking, she tried to breathe. Her benefactor pounded on her back, albeit somewhat gently. When Aggie could finally catch her breath, she cleared her throat. “Somerset? Lord John Somerset, Earl of Glamorgan?”

The man stood up and she realized he wore an oilcloth coat and thigh boots. And that he was tall. Very tall. Before she could extend her hand for a boost up, she found herself cradled in his arms. “I fear my reputation precedes me,” he muttered under his breath.

I’m behind on my word count. Which is really sad. Jack and Aggie are actually playing very nicely together. I’m not sure why I’m dragging the words through thick mud to get them on the screen. However, here’s a bit of a tease- the first page:

With the aplomb of a farmer’s wife disemboweling a chicken, Lady Agatha Carmichael plunged her hands into the cavernous wound in the cadaver’s abdomen and chest. Her hands closed on…nothing. No heart. No lungs. The corpse sighed and she chuckled, the sound a ribald explosion of relieved giggling. The exhalation was normal—a build-up of gases. The giggles were not. She was not prone to giggling or other girlish endeavors and airs.

“Bloody hell.” She brushed an errant strand of hair off her forehead with the back of her hand, leaving a smear of blood in its wake. Baffled, she probed the dead man’s chest some more. No surgeon had cleanly removed his innards. The bits and pieces left behind were shredded like the cabbage Cook was so fond of serving on Sunday. She stepped back for a moment to contemplate. While gaping, the wound wasn’t ragged. She puffed out a frustrated breath and the curl on her forehead danced. What in the world had eviscerated this poor soul?

A loud bang clanged in the hallway and Aggie jumped, her heart pounding so hard she couldn’t hear for a moment. She gulped, swallowing hard, and then filled her lungs with a slow, steadying breath.

“Who’s there?” Her voice sounded breathless but squeaked at the same time. She cocked her head, listening. No one answered. Off in the distance, Big Ben chimed and she listened. Half-past something. As late as it was, she should be the only one in the morgue. She turned back to the body on the slab. A slight rustling teased the threshold of her hearing. Someone…or something snuffled just outside in the hallway. She watched as a shadow darkened the space at the bottom of the door before it flitted away.

“Is someone out there?” She grabbed a towel and hurriedly wiped her bloodied hands and arms. Crossing the room, she grabbed the handle, twisted it and wrenched it open. The hallway, though drenched in shadow, looked empty. Aggie stepped through the door and looked up and down several times to be sure. Nothing. Not a soul stirred. She turned and stepped back into the autopsy room. A door down the hall banged closed. “I say,” she called, her voice rising. “I’m not in the mood for your games.”

NaNo Day 3…sucked. That is all.

It’s a good thing this book didn’t! Karin Tabke’s first entry in this series, MASTER OF SURRENDER, is a juicy addition to the historical fiction genre. From the back of the book:

The Blood Sword Legacy — Bound by a brotherhood forged in the hell of a Saracen prison, eight Blood Swords–mercenary knights for William the Congueror–set out to claim their legacies the only way they can: by right of arms, by right of victory, by right of conquest.

Oh, yeah! Now if that doesn’t get your blood to flowing, I don’t know what will! Except perhaps maybe this:

For Sir Rohan du Luc, known as the Black Sword, enemies fall easily beneath his assault…until he comes face-to-face with a foe more worthy than any battle-hardened knight. Bold and courageous though she is, Saxon maiden Isabel of Alethorpe cannot stop Rohan de Luc from seizing Alethorpe and its people in the name of William the Conqueror. Then Rohan demands not just the manor, but Isabel herself. She vows that her heart will remain her own, even if she is forced to allow him to lay claim to her body. But while the lady’s lips say no, Isabel’s traitorous body is awakened to desire by the seductive attentions of this potent invader. Can she remain true to her Saxon heritage and her hopes that her brother may have survived the battlefield, or will Sir Rohan’s skilled touch capture her unwilling heart as surely as his prowess with his sword captured her father’s lands?

Admission time. From the moment Rohan appeared on the page, I was picturing Viggo Mortensen as Aragorn. Sexy? Oh yeah! The scene on the manor house stairs between Rohan and Isabel? I’m surprised the tapestries didn’t catch on fire. And when Rohan demanded Isabel bathe him? OH, baby. *fans self* The story of conqueror and captured is just part of this amazing book. Rich details, intriguing subplots, and interesting supporting characters make for a magnificent read.

Did I mention there are seven more Blood Swords? And they are just as sexy as Rohan? Two of them already have books and I’ll be discussing them here in the coming days. I only have one complaint about this series. Karin? You’ve only written three of them! You’d better be typing your fingers to the bone, woman! Type! Like right now! Srsly!

I loved this book and couldn’t put it down. Yes, I have a shelf reserved for this series.

Today is a BICHOK day. I have many words to type before my day is done.

About the Author
KARIN TABKE is a mother of four, wife to one, and CEO of her own business, who still manages to find time between her sons’ and husband’s football games (he’s a coach), her daughters’ dramas, and troubleshooting in the office to write. She is the author of Master of Surrender, Master of Torment, and Master of Craving, the first three novels in her historical romance series, The Blood Sword Legacy, and the contemporary romance Have Yourself a Naughty Little Santa. She has also written three erotic novels—Good Girl Gone Bad, Skin, and Jaded—and a novella that appeared in the anthology What You Can’t See, all available from Pocket Books. She is currently hard at work on the next book in The Blood Sword Legacy. Visit her website at www.karintabke.com.

**Disclaimer – I bought this book

See larger image Master of Surrender (Blood Sword Legacy, Book 1) (Mass Market Paperback) By (author) Karin Tabke List Price: $6.99 USD New From: $3.49 In Stock Used from: $0.99 In Stock

Writing, writing, writing, rawhide!

I lied. I haven’t gotten around to our Halloween short story. Sorry. I had a seed of an idea but it sort of withered while I fought the flu. And then NaNo started. And SOUL MAGIC arrived in the mail. And…and…and…

So, instead, here’s some business to take care of. The winner of the ARC of FAERIE FATE is…LIZA! Liza, let me know if you want a CD or a .pdf attachment to read on your computer. I’ll be very interested in your thoughts about the book.

And the winner of the October Contest of a $10.00 gift certificate to the Pink Ribbon Store is BAN! Ban, I think I have your email. I’ll email you the GC. And that reminds me…I need to email you about the Etsy things, too!

Paula, I have NOT forgotten you! Promise. I have your goodies from September wrapped in bubble wrap waiting for me to find a box, type up your address, and get to the mail box. It’s on my list for this week.

November’s contest…is a surprise. I hope some goodies I’ve ordered arrive. If so, I’ll post about them later. If not…a gift card is always a good stand-by, right?

As for progress, I’m behind on word count. I have a couple of errands today, including a hair cut. Maybe you’ll get lucky and I’ll twit-pic it with my iPhone. (Yes, it shows up on Facebook for those of you who don’t twitter! ) In the meantime…writing, writing, writing!

I met my goal yesterday, and exceeded it a little–slightly over 2,000 words. I’m taking just a brief moment to introduce you to my characters this morning. I still don’t have a satisfactory name for this sucker so, in deference to Erika, I’m calling it AGGIE AND THE ZOMBIES for now. While AATZ is set in Victorian times, I wasn’t quite so lucky as to find male models in period costume. I was a bit luckier with the ladies.
Allow me to introduce Lady Agatha Elizabeth Victoria Carmichael, M.D. She much prefers to be called Aggie by her friends. Aggie grew up tagging around the world after her father, Colonel Sir George Carmichael, M.D., late of Her Royal Majesty’s Army. She spent time in India as a girl when he was in service there as a medical officer with his regiment. Now, while Aggie is something of a free spirit, she doesn’t really dance around the woods naked. The first picture is her face. The second is the way she normally appears in polite society.

Polite society, you say? I find nothing polite about a sniveling bunch of boors.

Yes, this would be Aggie.

Aggie’s dearest friend is a very sweet and proper young lady by the name of Winnifred Horatia Phipps. Winnie is a Lady with a capitol L as well and quite well connected. She recently made her debut and, much to her delight, intends to make a good marriage with a titled gentleman with quite extensive estates in the country. Sadly, though, he only rents rooms in the city, a situation she hops to rectify once they are married. Needless to say, Winnie is quite smitten with the Marquis of Rivencroft, but more about him in a bit. Winnie is a lovely girl and quite loyal to Aggie, though she’s never understood Aggie’s drive and ambition.

The man Winnie hopes to marry, at the urging of her parents, is Lord Victor Henry Sutcliffe, the Marquis of Rivencroft. Victor had a distinguished military career that ended abruptly and after some time spent overseeing his various holdings around the Empire, he’s just returned to England and has put out the word he’s looking for a proper English wife. Winnie fits the bill–young, impressionable, rich. Winnie has stars in her eyes when she looks at him. “Oh isn’t he handsome,” she croons. “And being older, he must be wiser and will be so much more patient and kinder with me.” Aggie tends to roll her eyes. Victor? His expression doesn’t change much but if you watch him closely, you’ll realize that his gaze doesn’t miss much.

Enter Mr. Bartholomew Winston Alexander-Smythe. Mr. Alexander-Smythe is the second son of a minor lord. He’s reading for the law. Or trying to, anyway. London is a place of many temptations. One of them is a rather sweet-faced, brown-haired, brown-eyed girl by the name of Lady Winnifred Phipps. They met at a party and poor Bartee has never been the same. He was smitten. Like a moon-eyed calf he is whenever she enters the room, and half the time when she’s nowhere to be found. He is positive that he can be a be a better husband and is intent on proving that to Winnie….just as soon as he stops walking into doors.

And last but not least, we need our slightly nerdy scientist because this is a steampunk novel, right? May I present Lord John Gideon Charles Somerset, the Earl of Glamorgan? Aggie calls him Jack. Sometimes he remembers to answer. He tends to get lost in his experiments. He has a steam-powered gyroflitter (I say, I must have a way to get from the ground to my Zeppelin I’ll have you know.), a clock-work horse (“I forgot to feed the live one,” he mutters looking sheepish and then hastens to add, “though the fellow is doing quite well now with a man up in Shropshire.”) and all manner of interesting machines at his home. Oh, I should mention that Jack is also a vampire. So while he might be a geek, one really doesn’t want to piss him off. Just sayin’…

These would be the characters in the new WIP. I don’t want to reveal too much of the plot. Aggie is the heroine, Jack is her hero and Victor has to be the villain, of course. Bartee is our comic relief and yes there will be zombies. And steampunk. And clockwork figures that go bump in the night. I leave you with one last image. This is what London looked like the night Aggie and Jack met. But tell me? How are your projects going? And what do you think of my new “critters”?