*Althea*
His deep laughter rings out over the green, drawing attention to us. I'm not certain if he's taken joy in my scathing retort or simply wants to ensure people notice we're riding through the park.
The story I'm writing is not going precisely as I had envisioned it. I think it unlikely the gentleman is going to meet a tragic end, because he and the she-wolf are reconciling. I'm deuced irritated by that.
Every time I begin writing a scene in which he would endure something horrible, it ends with them kissing. An encounter with ruffians. Kiss. A knife wound. Kiss. A bullet lodged in his shoulder. Kiss. As the author, I believe I should have more control over my characters, but they seem to disagree, and I find myself scrawling words I never intended to put to paper. It's frightful
