Page 26 of Not That Impossible

I swung my desk chair from side to side. I picked up the biro from beside the bluetooth mechanical keyboard that I preferred to the the MacBook’s keyboard, and clicked the top a few times. I drew my legs up until I was perched cross-legged on the seat, and dragged the keyboard onto my lap.

Some words were better than no words, right?

I shoved aside the nagging inner voice that was saying things like,Jasper, don’t you do it.

And,Jasper, I mean it. Don’t you do it. You have an imagination! Use it for good. Come up with something the citizens of Chipping Fairford will find interesting, and read, and go oh, J.C. Connolly, yes. A classic of his. Very insightful.

And,Do not write something that will make them clutch their pearls and say, Detective Chief Inspector Liam Nash didwhat? He put whatwhere? He was ruthless about it? Until J.C. Connolly begged for mercy andcried, but in a sexy happy way?

I leaned forward, clicked the mouse, and my latest Liam Nash fanfic document opened.

My hands hovered over the keyboard as I scanned the last line.

“Bring him to me,” the warlord boomed.

Cracking my knuckles, I glanced up at the clock at the top right of the screen. Ten minutes. I’d allow myself ten minutes, and then I would definitely get back to brainstorming. This would shake things loose.

“Bring him to me,” the warlord boomed.

“Which one?” his second-in-command asked.

I was standing with the rest of the captives, the last of the defeated soldiers, those who had refused to throw down their arms and surrender.

We'd fought hard that day, for our families and our king, but the fearsome warlord Nash had swept across the land and crushed all resistance before him.

Now he sat on the throne of the deposed King Adam, who huddled in chains beside me. Nash’s fierce army occupied the ancient and noble Hall of Blake.

The warlord’s steely blue-grey eyes cut across the distance between us and penetrated mine.

“That one,” he said with a sinister smile. “The tall one. The one who is built like a powerful warrior. Even from here and with one look I can see through his buff facade to the trembling fragile beauty he truly is deep inside. It is a beauty I would take for my own, and own it and possess it and devour it.”

The second-in-command pushed King Adam forward.

“No!” The warlord barked. “That one is not a powerful warrior! And also, although many would find his leanly muscled form and fantastic hair wondrously beautiful, there is something about him that leaves me cold.” Nash arose from the throne and prowled down the steps of the dais. He strode across the hall and came to a stop before me.

“This is the warrior I want.” He gazed into my eyes. “This is my war prize, whom I shall take into my bed of silk and furs, and have pleasure me until the end of my days.”

“This one?” the second-in-command said. “Are you sure?”

Nash shifted closer. “Of course.”

“We’ve got some prettier ones in the back. Nearly all of them are prettier, actually.”

Nash scowled over my shoulder at his doubtful-sounding minion. “I know what I want when I see it.” He gripped my chin and lifted it, ensnaring my helpless gaze with his pitiless orbs. “And I take it.”

“Oh no,” I protested. “Please, think of my innocence! I am just a simple farm boy, conscripted by the cruel king—”

“Hey,” said King Adam.

I clutched at Nash’s strong wrist. “Allow me to serve you in other ways, mighty warlord.”

He rubbed a thumb along my jaw. “What other ways do you suggest?”

I dropped my faltering plain brown gaze from his, but he raised my chin again and rested his palm over the front of my throat. “I want you to look at me, my beauty,” he murmured, “while you tell me of all the ways in which you will serve.”

Almost swooning at being called beauty, a thing I had secretly dreamed of in the long dark nights alone in my humble farmstead, I trembled like a helpless bird in his merciless grip. “I can cook a mean fry-up,” I said. “Even though the cholesterol is super bad for you, and you should probably cut down on red meat. Especially if you’re older and should be keeping an eye on your blood pressure.”

The warlord’s nostrils flared with displeasure. “Try again,” he hissed evilly.

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