My daughter was very naughty this weekend. I won’t pretend that this is particularly unusual because only a few weeks ago she decided she’d had enough of exploring the stone grotto at one of our local country parks, and shot off into the woodland with me following (with the pram) in hot pursuit. Having abandoned the pram (and my younger daughter) I caught up with just after she’d tripped over the top of the bank and gone skidding down the muddy surface, twigs in her hair, nose rutting into the dirt. But this time, at the same park (what can I say, I don’t learn my lesson) she disappeared into a huge bank of Rhododendrons. My husband dived after her, with our one year old in his arms, and we all spent the next fifteen minutes of a very hot day crawling in the undergrowth trying to find each other.
The following extract is from Braving Madness where the rather drunken heroine, Betty, is being naughty in a very different way.
She was closing in on him. “I have no intention of sleeping. I intend on being naughty. It sounds most intriguing and as you are a rake you must be more than qualified to teach me in the ways of naughtiness.”
Her legs gave way beneath her and Edward only just caught her before she hit the floor.
“You may carry me if you wish.” Her lips tickled his ear with each word. Edward groaned. There was only so much a man could stand.
He staggered despite the fact she weighed nothing in his arms, his head spinning. He mustn’t look down. Looking down at the completely naked and extremely willing young lady in his arms was bound to be a bad idea. With lurching steps, he made it to the bed at the same time as her arms snaked around his neck and she planted a kiss on the underside of his throat.
She wasn’t playing fair.