Thank you for joining me today for another First Kiss Friday! Today’s guest is my friend and fellow Bluestocking Belle Rue Allyn who has a scene from her latest release The Legend of Skinner Robelard. Happy reading and take it away, Rue!
Sherry, thank you so very much for inviting me to First Kiss Friday. This first kiss scene is from The Legend of Skinner Robelard, and I may have posted it here several months ago. For this visit, I give a bit more context to the kiss. We begin with the end of a wild celebration at a saloon.
Excerpt: He set his nearly empty mug on the bar as he walked toward the piano. He stepped over bodies littering the floor. The barkeep slept with his head pillowed on the polished wood. The piano player’s hands still moved over the keys, but the melody, if there was one, was completely unrecognizable.
“Play Goodnight Ladies,” Boyd told the pianist then reached for Elise, as the tune took shape, “Time to call it a night, Mister Skinner.”
Elise batted at his hands in a very un-masculine manner. “Naw, party’s just gettin’ started.”
At least she’d kept her mule-whacker’s voice. He grasped her waist. “All the same, you’ve got a big day tomorrow.”
She speared him with an amazingly steady gaze. “I do?”
“Yeah, you do.”
“’Kay.” Her eyes closed, and she fell forward.
Boyd caught her and settled her against his chest, one of his arms supporting her back, one under her knees. The hat she always wore to hide her hair tilted against his face, blocking his vision.
The music stopped. A hand took hold of Elise’s hat and moved it to cover her face. Over it, Boyd’s gaze met that of the piano man.
The man studied the room. “Ain’t no one t’ hear me. So, you take good care of her. And stop looking at her like she’s a girl. You’ll give her away.”
Boyd tried to look surprised. “How many people know?”
“A few folks Robelard trusts. Did most of ‘em a good turn at one time or another, like she did me. Won’t none of us say nothin’. It’s someone like you who’s the greatest danger. Skinner’s friends all love her enough to make any sacrifice needed, but we ain’t in love with her.”
Boyd snorted. “You got that all wrong, Mister.” In love with a hellion shemale? That’s plain loco.
The pianist raised an eyebrow. “I know what I see. You just see you don’t hurt her, or half of Wyoming will string you up whether they know she’s a girl or not. Ain’t no one don’t like and respect Skinner Robelard.”
“I don’t intend any harm.”
“Even good intentions can hurt. Now git her outta here. Somma these saddle bums are startin’ t’ stir.”
Boyd had caught slight movements in his peripheral vision, so he didn’t argue. Skirting around drunks and furniture he got himself and Elise outside. Before he stepped off the boardwalk, he scanned the street in both directions. Nothing moved. All the same, a prickle on his nape made him keep to the shadow of the buildings rather than taking the smoother route down the middle of the street.
A five-minute walk brought him to the boarding house. He circled the building and entered by the back door headed for the kitchen stairs. Miz Riper must have retired. Only the cat dozing before the potbelly took brief notice of him and his burden before going back to sleep.
Halfway up the stairs, Elise woke up. She jerked awake. Her hat pushed upward, blocking his vision and knocking his own hat to the floor. Her head banged into his chin, forcing him to bite the inside of his cheek. He stumbled, twisting this way and that to keep his balance until her fist struck his shoulder.
“Ow.” He sat with a thump.
“Put me down, you cock-assed son of a bull-moose.”
He glared at her and released her immediately.
Poised on his lap for a long two seconds, she grabbed her hat then slid downwards, pushing herself off his legs onto the stairs. Once she stopped moving, she put her hat on her head and looked back at him.
A sheepish grin spread across her face.”
What the hell does she have to smile about? Boyd glared all the harder.
Elise grasped her middle and subsided into a fit of giggles.
He lunged for her, slapped his hand across her mouth, and anchored her against the stairs with his body. “Will you be quiet, or do you want to bring Miz Riper and the other boarders down on us,” he hissed.
Against his hand, laughter still burbled. Against his body, hers wriggled as the laughing fit shook her, and he went instantly hard. Damn, this had to stop or he’d take her right there, Miz Riper and disguises be damned. He had to shut Elise up. He refused to use force; striking a woman was just wrong. So, he used the only part of his body he was certain would do the job.
He covered her mouth with his. The giggles faded into a hum. Her arms went around his neck and hot damn if she didn’t kiss him back. Enthusiastically, to the delight of his least responsible organ. Inexpertly, to his surprise. She’d been an innocent when he first met her. He’d assumed she’d have learned a few things in the past five years, but her kiss told another story. He lifted his head. Kissing a drunk woman was almost as wrong as hitting one, but how else was he supposed to keep her quiet.
She stilled instantly, but she didn’t pull away. How could she, with him plastering her to the stairs? She had to be uncomfortable. He started to ease away. But her hands grabbed his neck and pulled him back. She attacked his mouth, thrust her hands into his hair, and gentled her kiss to tiny nips on his lower lip.
She wanted kisses? Well, they’d do it right or not at all. He opened his mouth over hers. It took her a moment, but she opened in return, and her tongue tangled with his, her mastery of the basic mechanics growing as she copied every move he made. Boyd’s head spun. We can’t do this on the stairs. He rolled over. Elise clung and rolled with him, ending with their positions reversed.
He felt the stair treads press into his spine and his shoulders, but more, he felt the firing of every nerve as she stroked his arms, throat and chest. Chest? When did my buttons come undone?
“Elise, stop.”
“No.” She’d left off kissing his lips to nuzzle the fine hairs of his torso. Her hands raced downward.
He caught her wrist before she could unbuckle his belt.
“You don’t know what you’re doing?”
“Do, too.” She slipped from his grip and aimed for his trouser buttons.
“No.” He lifted her bodily away and sat her beside him. “You don’t. You’re drunk.”
Her expression would have done a mule proud. “I know how to handle my liquor.”
“Maybe.”
She added a glare to the mulish set of her jaw.
“Probably.”
Her mouth twisted, and she folded her arms before her.
“All right, definitely. You definitely know how to handle your liquor, but I don’t know how to handle you.”
She dropped her arms, and a smile replaced the mule imitation. “Way I see it; you did some pretty good handling just now.”
He wanted to puff out his chest and preen like a rooster. Instead he bowed his head and stared at his room key on the floor. When had that fallen out? “I’m glad you liked it, but I shouldn’t have. I took advantage of you.”
She stood in a blink. If she’d been taller, he would have said she loomed. Her mouth opened and closed like a squawking chicken. “For your information, Mr. Alvarez,” she growled in an angry whisper. “No one—I repeat—no one takes advantage of Elise Van Demer. You didn’t do anything I didn’t want you to do. But I’ve changed my mind. Don’t. Ever. Touch. Me. Again. Ever.”
“Since I shouldn’t be touching you, that suits me fine.”
“Good.” She bent and swept the key into her hands then retreated up the stairs.
She’d taken his key. Boyd turned to go after her, then slumped back to the steps. He’d get it from her later, or he’d wake Miz Riper and get her to unlock his room. First, he wanted some time to think over what had just happened.
The kiss had been fantastic, way beyond fantastic in fact. He couldn’t deny he wanted more, and if she’d done this before, maybe… No point in maybes. Next thing, he’d be convincing himself that she’d had a dozen lovers, and one more time wouldn’t matter, and that was two lies right there. Yes, she’d more or less attacked him, but he knew an innocent when he kissed one. And under all the dirt, she was a decent woman. Decent women cared about the men they let into their beds. Elise deserves a man who plans to stick around, and that isn’t me.
The Legend of Skinner Robelard
By Rue Allyn
Pampered and privileged then betrayed and disowned, Elise Van Demer hides in plain sight and plots her revenge on the men who destroyed her life. With her goal in sight, she encounters a lawman from her past. Boyd Alvarez could ruin everything, and the last thing she needs is wanting some man who only wants to protect her.
His family dead and without a home, Boyd Alvarez rides the range and hunts bounties for a living. When he stumbles on Elise Van Demer his only thought is to keep her safe. He can outgun just about every man, but can he protect her from her own plans of revenge? Can he teach her that loving a man is a better dream than destroying her enemies?
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Author Bio: Award winning author, Rue Allyn, learned story telling at her grandfather’s knee. (Well it was really more like on his knee—I was two.) She’s been weaving her own tales ever since. She has worked as an instructor, mother, sailor, clerk, sales associate, and painter, along with a variety of other types of employment. She has lived and traveled in places all over the globe from Keflavik Iceland (I did not care much for the long nights of winter.) and Fairbanks Alaska to Panama City and the streets of London England to a large number of places in between. Now that her two sons have left the nest, Rue and her husband of more than four decades (Try living with the same person for more than forty years—that’s a true adventure.) have retired and moved south. When not writing, enjoying the nearby beach or working jigsaw puzzles, Rue travels the world and surfs the internet in search of background material and inspiration for her next heart melting romance.. She loves to hear from readers, and you may contact her at Rue@RueAllyn.com. She can’t wait to hear from you.
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Sherry Ewing 