2 Excerpts from Margaret's Books

Margaret shares excerpts from her first published book, and her latest story, her 80th book.

DESTINY PARADISE - 1976

“Would you mind turning that contraption down?”

Lorna glanced up, mildly curious as to whom the aggressive tones were being addressed. Piercing blue eyes met her own; dark glasses tilted towards wiry brown hair which stuck up at a rakish angle as though the owner had run his fingers despairingly through it.

“I said, would you mind turning it down?”

Clearly he was speaking to her, although Lorna could not think why her transistor should cause annoyance. She had adjusted the volume so that the music was audible without being unbearably loud. Though judging by the way the man in the next chair was glaring at her, even this was too much for him. She raised her delicately arched brows and said coolly, “If I lower it much more I might as well turn it off.”

“That’s right.” His voice was hard, not unlike the steely eyes. “Then perhaps I can concentrate.”

Lorna noticed for the first time the sheaf of papers in his hand, the open briefcase at this side, wondering why anyone should choose to study what looked like the lines from a play on the open deck of a liner. Perhaps if he had approached her differently she might have agreed, but as it was his attitude angered her. ”I’m sorry, she returned politely, “but I’m enjoying this music. I can’t recall any rules about not playing transistors. Why don’t you go to your cabin? You won’t be disturbed there.”

 

ABBY’S BODYGUARD - 2014

‘Holly Redman?’ enquired a deep, male voice.

Holly stopped walking and turned her head. She had just arrived at Orly airport from Heathrow and was heading towards the shuttle bus that would take her to her hotel. She had no idea who this man was. He was tall and broad shouldered with jet black hair and amazing grey eyes. But she didn’t know him from Adam and she certainly wasn’t expecting anyone to meet her.

‘And you are?’ she enquired, her fine brows dragging together, her voice sharp.

‘A friend of your brother.’

A smile accompanied his words revealing even white teeth. He was very good looking, well dressed in black linen trousers and a crisp white shirt, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a con man.

‘By coincidence I phoned him only this morning,’ he added with another one of his dazzling smiles. ‘And when he said that his sister was spending a few days in Paris I immediately thought that you might like some company.’

‘Oh, you did, did you?’ Holly straightened her back and squared her shoulders, her eyes shooting sparks of anger and distrust. ‘And my brother would be?’ She still didn’t truly believe that this man was a friend of his.

‘Why Martin, of course. Martin Redman,’ he said with more than a hint of amusement in his voice.

‘And your name is?’

‘Temple Townsend – at your service.’

He held out his hand but Holly ignored it. ‘Martin didn’t say anything about someone meeting me.’ She paused and glared at him. ‘How did you know who I was?’

The smile widened. ‘He described you perfectly. Tall, slender, long dark hair. Outstandingly good-looking.’

‘There must be thousands of women who match that description,’ she challenged, convinced her brother had not said any of that. He had never paid her a compliment in his life.