T. A. Chase

Sunny Saturday

Hope this pic meets with more approval today…even if it’s just for those abs. Wow! 😉
I actually cropped this photo to keep it from being rated X..lol.

I’m hoping to get some writing done today, but C has to go shoot some pictures for a friend, so I might be busy most of the day. Oh well. I don’t mind spending time with him however I have to. We also might go look at cars. Trying to find a Saturn dealer around here that has a Skye (the Saturn version of the Pontiac Solistce). Trying to find either one of those cars is like hunting for a needle in a haystack. Ugh!

I hope everyone has a great day.

“The evil of the world is made possible by nothing but the sanction you give it.”—Ayn Rand

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TGIF

The morning is really busy for me today, so I thought I’d give you a little water eye candy. Enjoy him..try not to wear him out. 🙂 If things calm down, I’ll try and get back to post something more meaningful later in the day.

Have a great day, everyone.

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Thursday all ready…

my..my..how time flies when you’re having fun. Isn’t there something mysterious and dangerous about this guy? HOT! 🙂

I discovered what secret Angel’s uncle is hiding and why he wants to help our hero out. Unfortunately, it doesn’t make him look like such a great guy anymore. Except for the fact that he is trying to keep the past from repeating itself. And an interesting new character introduced himself to me. I think y’all will like him when you get to meet him. Oh and while I was getting ready this morning, I figured out how The Ball will end. Now I just have to write it down. 🙂

Have a great day, everyone.

“There is a boundary to men’s passions when they act from feelings; but none when they are under the influence of imagination.”–Edmund Burke

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The Ball- Part Seven

The Ball- Part Seven (c) T.A. Chase

Greyson disappears into the crowd. My heart breaks. A god was within my grasp and like a fool, I let him go.

Froze to the spot, I ignore people moving around me except to cringe when they get too close. I’m caught in a whirlpool of anger. It swirls and flares. First at him for not understanding my silence. Next at myself for having no sense of worth.

For it is doubt that keeps me from tracking him down. How can a man so full of life and confidence want a shell like me? All that I might ever have been has been ripped from me. He calls me Angel. I call myself monster.

A hand clamps down on my bruised shoulder and I bite my tongue to keep from crying out. I know who it is from the cruelty in his touch. Before Father can say anything, my pretty cousin is beside us.

“This is our dance.” She beams up at my father.

He can’t deny her, so he allows her to drag me away. We melt into the dancing couples until we’ve moved beyond his sight. She tugs me into an alcove.

“What is the matter with you?” She glares up at me. “Poppa sent me to save you. He could see your father growing furious with you. How could you snub his Grace like that?”

It always comes down to me being the bad one. I’m the incompetent fool who is single-handedly destroying the family name. She’s so young and innocent. I don’t want to taint her with my foulness. I shrug and move away. Maybe I could sneak home and drown my sorrow in brandy.

“Lord Greyson is the most handsome man in the room.” Her brown eyes, so much like mine, twinkle with a sly light. “Quite rich and friends with all sorts of important people. His wife would hold a high place in society. I’d take a shot at him. Too bad his interest is all ready captured.”

“Captured? By whom?” I blurt out and then I groan. The minx has tricked me. I search out a way to leave her.

She backs me into the shadows. “I’ve heard rumors about the Duke.”

“Rumors?” I find I don’t want to hear what she has to say.

“Seems the handsome Duke has no use for the fairer sex. He likes his lovers to be harder and more like him.”

My breath comes in bursts and spots swim before my eyes. I didn’t give our secret away, my mind screams. Oh God, they all know. Somehow the depravity brewing inside me has been seen and it’s destroying the Duke’s reputation.

My cousin gives me a wink. “Who would’ve thought my competition would be my own cousin?” She touches my wrist where my self-inflicted scar is.

Bile rises from my stomach. Her eyes widen and she points to a potted plant we are hiding behind. Throwing myself to my knees, I heave. There is nothing for me to purge for I haven’t eaten in a day or two. Yet it feels as if I’m emptying everything from my body.

Heart, soul, brain and nerves go. Blackness starts to descend and I wonder if I’ve given up. There’s no point in living when my god has turned his back on me.

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The Ball- Part Six

The Ball- Part Six: (c) 2006 T.A. Chase

This night I scour the swirling crowd. I search with anxious eyes for the man I’m becoming infatuated with.

“Got your eye on anyone, son?”

I stiffen and turn to see my uncle standing beside me. His bluff face and jovial manner makes my father despise him, but there has always been something safe about him for me.

“No, sir.”

“Just as well. The cream of the crop is your cousin and we can’t have you two getting married.” He laughs and slaps my shoulder in jest.

I manage a slight smile, trying not to wince. My father had shoved me into the wall earlier in the day, leaving a bruise at the spot my uncle hit.

“A rather unattractive crop of fillies this season,” he continues, either not noticing or not caring about my discomfort.

A wave of heat surrounds me as if my clothes have caught on fire. He is here. Moving through the room, he greets lord and lady alike, showing no favor to any. My heart begins to pound. Sweat beads on my forehead. The moment of my freedom moves closer with each step he takes towards me. Will my fear take this chance from me?

I take a step towards him, his laughter calling to me like a siren does to the sailors on the sea. I meet resistance. Looking down, I see my uncle’s hand on my arm.

Panic, fear and shame shoot through me. Does he know? Has my father voiced his displeasure in me to my uncle?

“Careful, son.” Uncle’s gaze swings from me to where the Duke stands. There is nothing in his eyes to warn me how he feels. “You must learn to play their games.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I force through my panic.

“You do know what I’m saying. Come see me tomorrow. We’ve much to discuss.” He squeezes my arm and turns to leave. Looking back over his shoulder, he says, “I live in a glass house as well, son. There’ll be no stones thrown by me.”

I struggle to grasp what he says to me, but all I can think of is Greyson strolling towards me. My heart pounds and my blood seems to be boiling.

“Breathe,” I whisper to myself.

Uncle’s warning wings through my deprived brain. Fainting at his Grace’s feet isn’t being careful. It would bring attention to both of us. I don’t think I could survive the stares and laughter.

“You’re here.” His tone is soft so no one can hear him. “What have you got to lose?” He repeats his question.

Silence reigns between us. I’m choking on my answer. I know it’ll change my life, no matter what I say. There is no one else in the room with us, even though we are surrounded by the ton. No sound is heard though an orchestra plays in the back ground.

I want to speak. My soul begs my mouth to open; begs my throat to allow the words out. Fear has clamped its claws deep into my flesh and shame stands guard to keep me from busting free.

Emotions flash in his blue eyes and I’m not sure if they are anger, hurt or sadness. So many emotions I know the intimate touch of, but have never seen in anyone’s eyes.

He nods and moves away, disappointment on his face. That’s one expression I recognize, having seen it on my father’s face all my life. I want to stop him. I want to hold out my hand and touch him. The weight of the stares hold me back. In all of God’s world, there is no creature more pathetic than me.

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Remember….

On Omaha, men cried.

I’m a stranger

But it’s for me they died.

I’m every son.

I’m every daughter.

I’m everyone.

They had names.

They had gods.

They had dreams.

Every man bled on Normandy.

Every soldier lost.

They came back to bury the dead.

Thousands of questions asked.

Thousands of silent sighs.

Only one answer: Freedom

“I wanted you to see what real courage is, instead of getting the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand. It’s when you know you’re licked before you begin but you begin anyway and you see it through no matter what.”— Harper Lee

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Sunday Kind of Love

I love that song. 🙂 Here’s another man in uniform. Love that scruffy unshaved look and those abs. Hot.

Did get some writing done last night. Not a lot on any one story, but a little written on a bunch of different ones. Weather was nice, so spent much of the day just lazing around.

Hope everyone’s weekend is going great.

“It’s curious that physical courage should be so common in the world and moral courage so rare.”—Mark Twain

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Saturday fun

Our second man in uniform. 🙂

It looks to be a beautiful day out. Finally no clouds for today anyway.

I got the tenth scene written for The Ball and started the eleventh. I’m starting to think it’s time for Angel to find some courage. I’m pretty sure we’re all going to be surprised with him once he makes a break from his father. 🙂

Not much else got done. C got home without any problems yesterday. 🙂

“Courage is the art of being the only one who knows you’re scared to death.”—Harold Wilson

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TGIF

In honor of Memorial Day here in the States, I’ll be posting pics of men in uniform the next four days. 🙂 So enjoy those brave men who serve and are willing to give their lives for us. Don’t forget the women either…for they give up just as much.

Little got done last night. Had to work on cleaning up the house since C is coming home tonight. Woo-Hoo! Haven’t seen him in a week and a half.

In other news, Barbaro-the Kentucky Derby winner-is doing well after his surgery to fix his broken leg. The poor horse has 23 steel pins in his lower leg. The vet who operated on him said it was the worse leg injury he’d ever seen. It’s the type of injury where the horse is usually humanely destroyed because the chances of it surviving surgery and recovery are slim to none. But Barbaro’s owners are willing to take a shot that the heart that made the colt a good runner will give him the will to live. (People in the racing business rarely use the word great. It’s reserved for horses whose names bring back memories of dominating performances..like Secretariat or Man O’ War) Unfortunate for us, we’ll never know what Barbaro might have done.

So what is everyone doing for the weekend? Hope you have a good one.

“Courage is the price that Life exacts for granting peace.”–Amelia Earhart

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Slight glich in blog

Not sure what the hell was up with Blogger today. Unfortunately I didn’t have time until just a few minutes ago to actually sit down and figure it out. I republished the entire blog. Hopefully that fixes the problem.

Did a little research last night, but now that I have the link S.W. sent me, I’ll really start taking notes about how the tea ceremony should go. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that I’ll get it right and not get angry emails telling me I screwed some little thing up. (which is entirely possible..lol) Wrote a little on Lyva’s Chance, Rescued From Fear and the third book in my Dragons series. Of course, I might want to start working on the second book first…lol.

Enjoy the sun and beach. Maybe this guy’ll take y’all surfing.

“It’s the friends you can call up at four a.m. that matter.”–Marlene Dietrich

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