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ci5hqThis story can be found here:-
http://www.thecircuitarchive.com/tca/archive/6/thevictorian.html
and here:-
http://hatstand.slashcity.net/lizzie/victorian.html
The basis of the story is that Doyle is recovering from an illness at his sister's house, and Bodie is the eponymous hero whose job is under threat by virtue of his boss retiring and a vacant Head Gardener post becoming available.
This story hits the spot every time I read it because it's not only a wonderful first time, it's also an historical romance but it isnt in the least bit cloying or sentimental. It's a jolly well written romance, and if there is one kind of story I like, it's a good, old fashioned historical romance - this one tempts you in right from the very beginning with this evocative first paragraph.
Bluebell woods. If there was one thing that Raymond Doyle considered to be the very essence of his country of birth, it was bluebell woods. You could keep your Royal Family with Queen Victoria refusing to come out of mourning, your stately homes full of upper class twits taking tea on the croquet lawn. This was what it was all about as far as he was concerned. Bluebell woods. In May. To have the time to stroll like this through a sea of blue with the subtle perfume invading his senses was pure bliss, to listen to the birds sing and feel the breeze gently ruffle his curls was to feel a part of nature itself. He was blissfully unaware that he himself fitted well into the picture, his long wayward hair and elfin eyes mixing with an obvious sensuality to form a vision that was breathtakingly beautiful. If anyone belonged here in the woods it was he.
I can almost feel myself there with Doyle, strolling in the woods with the bluebells swaying in the breeze - it just conjures up a wonderful imagery with Lizzie always seems to achieve with the greatest ease in all her stories.
This next part also gives me pleasure to read, but in a different manner to the above paragraph:-
A man was at work, chopping down a small tree. As he'd apparently not been heard approaching and the oak affording excellent cover, Doyle watched in secret, taking voyeuristic pleasure in the picture presented to him. He guessed the man was about his age, bigger, though not much taller; firm muscles and weathered hands confirmed his outdoor existence. Short dark hair wet with sweat framed his head. Dark eyes, very dark eyes, and the kind of pouting mouth any debutante would have been proud to own completed the picture. The man had discarded his shirt, presumably thinking himself too far from the big house to be observed by females of the swooning variety.
Doyle watched, an elbow braced against the tree, eyes narrowed, one thumb rubbing absentmindedly over his lips. Moistening them he unconsciously slipped the thumb into his mouth and allowed his tongue a few seconds play.
Ray's eyes did a thorough reconnaissance job on the figure in front of him. The man was quite beautiful, muscles rippling as he worked, his swing betraying the fact that this was a task he had performed many times before. The exertion had made him sweat a great deal and after a while he stopped and moved to a bottle standing nearby, full of what Doyle presumed to be water. It was almost empty, so that what happened next should not have been a surprise; a full bladder in need of relief does not like to be ignored...but Doyle's heart still skipped a beat when he realised what was about to happen.
Returning to his place while at the same time undoing fly-buttons, the man exposed his manhood to the fresh air. Doyle was transfixed as a gush of amber fluid hit the tree that was being felled, splashing noisily onto the ground below. Something snapped inside Doyle. His trousers were suddenly unbearably tight and his hand went to the place, rubbing himself frantically, with the outcome inevitable. He gasped audibly several times, his head falling against the bark of the tree as he pumped semen into his trousers, unable to control the intense waves of pleasure that washed over him. Ray could hardly breathe and as his knees collapsed he had to kneel, gasping for air and leaning against the tree for support. Reality was slow to return and with it came the realisation of what he had just done. Dear God. His escape was rapid, but hardly noiseless; Doyle was very fast on his feet when required, but was slowed on this occasion by his body's reaction to sexual release. Nevertheless he was sure, with the confidence of the guilty, that he had got away with his indiscretion.
So now we have the manner of the way these two 'meet', although Doyle and Bodie dont actually meet face to face until just a bit later on, and at church no less!
There are lovely moments between the two with plenty of bantering:-
"First rule of survival in a big house like this, make sure you get in, and keep in, with the cook. Then if you can possibly manage it, the housekeeper. The cook? With my appetite? Easy! They like watching working men tuck into platefuls of food they've slaved over." He snorted. "She'd see you as a challenge though, better not take you within a mile of her kitchen or she'll pin you to a chair with those beefy arms of hers and force rice pudd'n down your throat, to fatten you up! And don't think your police training would help you either. Grown men think twice about confronting her, I can tell you! Don't you eat much?"
Doyle was laughing at the picture presented by Bodie.
"I'll bear that in mind! No, I'm a bit picky with food I suppose. Been ill too, don't forget. What about Miss Hobbs?"
"Her? Yes, well, she's nice enough already, just listened to a few foot woes, sympathised--"
"Smiled at her, batted your eyelids," Doyle interjected.
Bodie did at least have the decency to look slightly ashamed, but not for long.
"Think I might be good at that, do you?" he grinned.
"Just a wild guess, but yes, I think you'd use your charms to wrap some poor defenceless woman around your little finger." Ray was also grinning from ear to ear.
"Defenceless!! Oh now come on, you've seen her, you can't call that defenceless!!"
"I think anybody could be if you chose to make it so."
And here:
He was still deep in thought when Bodie returned, the mischief still present in his eyes.
"Penny for 'em?" Bodie smiled
"I think you know. Don't you?" Doyle replied. "Not sure how though."
Doyle was having a hard time keeping a straight face with that rakish grin mocking him.
"Policeman aren't you?" He was still grinning.
"Yes."
"Should follow your own advice then."
"Which is?" Doyle felt he was permanently two steps behind this bewitching man.
"Come quietly."
Written with gentle good humour, it also involves plenty of angst for us to worry over, including misunderstandings and deliberate hurting of each other,mainly due to Bodie not wanting to deal with his 'problem' by talking it through with Doyle.
Well aren't you at least going to try? You're going to give the job away, is that it? For God's sake Bodie!!"
The shutters had come down. Bodie was wearing an expression he hadn't seen before, mutely defiant, stubborn, but Doyle was also an expert at stubborn.
"Will you talk to me?" He let out an exasperated sigh. "I might be able to help you. No problem is insoluble!"
Bodie was now standing over the compost heap, twisting off the large green leaves of the rhubarb, plainly angry, judging by the treatment he was giving it. To Doyle, who had only minutes before been in the man's arms, he seemed suddenly a stranger.
He moved to Bodie's side.
"Bodie," softly. He put his hand gently on the man's shoulder. "If you can't tell me who can you tell?"
"I don't actually want to discuss it with anyone, Ray. Now if you'll kindly excuse me, some of us have to work for a living." Doyle's hand was thrust roughly to one side and Bodie began to walk away.
I dont actually want to post anymore because it's all plotty-angst and whilst I adore the story, I dont want to give anything away to those who want to have the pleasure of reading it for the first time.
Lizzie is one of the first writers I turn to when I'm feeling blue, sad or lonely because even one glance at her always evocative stories make me feel a whole lot better. I could have picked any one of her stories - Cider with Bodie is yet another great one - but I chose this longer story.
I hope you enjoy it, and I hope this simple review is suitable for on here *g* Forgive me for the late posting but I fell after leaving work this evening and spent a couple of hours up in A&E .
http://www.thecircuitarchive.com/tca/archive/6/thevictorian.html
and here:-
http://hatstand.slashcity.net/lizzie/victorian.html
The basis of the story is that Doyle is recovering from an illness at his sister's house, and Bodie is the eponymous hero whose job is under threat by virtue of his boss retiring and a vacant Head Gardener post becoming available.
This story hits the spot every time I read it because it's not only a wonderful first time, it's also an historical romance but it isnt in the least bit cloying or sentimental. It's a jolly well written romance, and if there is one kind of story I like, it's a good, old fashioned historical romance - this one tempts you in right from the very beginning with this evocative first paragraph.
Bluebell woods. If there was one thing that Raymond Doyle considered to be the very essence of his country of birth, it was bluebell woods. You could keep your Royal Family with Queen Victoria refusing to come out of mourning, your stately homes full of upper class twits taking tea on the croquet lawn. This was what it was all about as far as he was concerned. Bluebell woods. In May. To have the time to stroll like this through a sea of blue with the subtle perfume invading his senses was pure bliss, to listen to the birds sing and feel the breeze gently ruffle his curls was to feel a part of nature itself. He was blissfully unaware that he himself fitted well into the picture, his long wayward hair and elfin eyes mixing with an obvious sensuality to form a vision that was breathtakingly beautiful. If anyone belonged here in the woods it was he.
I can almost feel myself there with Doyle, strolling in the woods with the bluebells swaying in the breeze - it just conjures up a wonderful imagery with Lizzie always seems to achieve with the greatest ease in all her stories.
This next part also gives me pleasure to read, but in a different manner to the above paragraph:-
A man was at work, chopping down a small tree. As he'd apparently not been heard approaching and the oak affording excellent cover, Doyle watched in secret, taking voyeuristic pleasure in the picture presented to him. He guessed the man was about his age, bigger, though not much taller; firm muscles and weathered hands confirmed his outdoor existence. Short dark hair wet with sweat framed his head. Dark eyes, very dark eyes, and the kind of pouting mouth any debutante would have been proud to own completed the picture. The man had discarded his shirt, presumably thinking himself too far from the big house to be observed by females of the swooning variety.
Doyle watched, an elbow braced against the tree, eyes narrowed, one thumb rubbing absentmindedly over his lips. Moistening them he unconsciously slipped the thumb into his mouth and allowed his tongue a few seconds play.
Ray's eyes did a thorough reconnaissance job on the figure in front of him. The man was quite beautiful, muscles rippling as he worked, his swing betraying the fact that this was a task he had performed many times before. The exertion had made him sweat a great deal and after a while he stopped and moved to a bottle standing nearby, full of what Doyle presumed to be water. It was almost empty, so that what happened next should not have been a surprise; a full bladder in need of relief does not like to be ignored...but Doyle's heart still skipped a beat when he realised what was about to happen.
Returning to his place while at the same time undoing fly-buttons, the man exposed his manhood to the fresh air. Doyle was transfixed as a gush of amber fluid hit the tree that was being felled, splashing noisily onto the ground below. Something snapped inside Doyle. His trousers were suddenly unbearably tight and his hand went to the place, rubbing himself frantically, with the outcome inevitable. He gasped audibly several times, his head falling against the bark of the tree as he pumped semen into his trousers, unable to control the intense waves of pleasure that washed over him. Ray could hardly breathe and as his knees collapsed he had to kneel, gasping for air and leaning against the tree for support. Reality was slow to return and with it came the realisation of what he had just done. Dear God. His escape was rapid, but hardly noiseless; Doyle was very fast on his feet when required, but was slowed on this occasion by his body's reaction to sexual release. Nevertheless he was sure, with the confidence of the guilty, that he had got away with his indiscretion.
So now we have the manner of the way these two 'meet', although Doyle and Bodie dont actually meet face to face until just a bit later on, and at church no less!
There are lovely moments between the two with plenty of bantering:-
"First rule of survival in a big house like this, make sure you get in, and keep in, with the cook. Then if you can possibly manage it, the housekeeper. The cook? With my appetite? Easy! They like watching working men tuck into platefuls of food they've slaved over." He snorted. "She'd see you as a challenge though, better not take you within a mile of her kitchen or she'll pin you to a chair with those beefy arms of hers and force rice pudd'n down your throat, to fatten you up! And don't think your police training would help you either. Grown men think twice about confronting her, I can tell you! Don't you eat much?"
Doyle was laughing at the picture presented by Bodie.
"I'll bear that in mind! No, I'm a bit picky with food I suppose. Been ill too, don't forget. What about Miss Hobbs?"
"Her? Yes, well, she's nice enough already, just listened to a few foot woes, sympathised--"
"Smiled at her, batted your eyelids," Doyle interjected.
Bodie did at least have the decency to look slightly ashamed, but not for long.
"Think I might be good at that, do you?" he grinned.
"Just a wild guess, but yes, I think you'd use your charms to wrap some poor defenceless woman around your little finger." Ray was also grinning from ear to ear.
"Defenceless!! Oh now come on, you've seen her, you can't call that defenceless!!"
"I think anybody could be if you chose to make it so."
And here:
He was still deep in thought when Bodie returned, the mischief still present in his eyes.
"Penny for 'em?" Bodie smiled
"I think you know. Don't you?" Doyle replied. "Not sure how though."
Doyle was having a hard time keeping a straight face with that rakish grin mocking him.
"Policeman aren't you?" He was still grinning.
"Yes."
"Should follow your own advice then."
"Which is?" Doyle felt he was permanently two steps behind this bewitching man.
"Come quietly."
Written with gentle good humour, it also involves plenty of angst for us to worry over, including misunderstandings and deliberate hurting of each other,mainly due to Bodie not wanting to deal with his 'problem' by talking it through with Doyle.
Well aren't you at least going to try? You're going to give the job away, is that it? For God's sake Bodie!!"
The shutters had come down. Bodie was wearing an expression he hadn't seen before, mutely defiant, stubborn, but Doyle was also an expert at stubborn.
"Will you talk to me?" He let out an exasperated sigh. "I might be able to help you. No problem is insoluble!"
Bodie was now standing over the compost heap, twisting off the large green leaves of the rhubarb, plainly angry, judging by the treatment he was giving it. To Doyle, who had only minutes before been in the man's arms, he seemed suddenly a stranger.
He moved to Bodie's side.
"Bodie," softly. He put his hand gently on the man's shoulder. "If you can't tell me who can you tell?"
"I don't actually want to discuss it with anyone, Ray. Now if you'll kindly excuse me, some of us have to work for a living." Doyle's hand was thrust roughly to one side and Bodie began to walk away.
I dont actually want to post anymore because it's all plotty-angst and whilst I adore the story, I dont want to give anything away to those who want to have the pleasure of reading it for the first time.
Lizzie is one of the first writers I turn to when I'm feeling blue, sad or lonely because even one glance at her always evocative stories make me feel a whole lot better. I could have picked any one of her stories - Cider with Bodie is yet another great one - but I chose this longer story.
I hope you enjoy it, and I hope this simple review is suitable for on here *g* Forgive me for the late posting but I fell after leaving work this evening and spent a couple of hours up in A&E .
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no subject
Date: 2009-03-20 09:00 pm (UTC)Real fen don't. Heh. Little play on words. *g*
no subject
Date: 2009-03-20 09:21 pm (UTC)Leo has no idea...! ;-(
no subject
Date: 2009-03-20 09:38 pm (UTC)Leo has no idea...! ;-(
Me being silly. I think "fen" is the name for fans in a fandom? So I was rhyming "fen" with "men." *g*
'Cause there was a comedy routine once about Real Men Don't...eat quiche or ask directions or you name it.
no subject
Date: 2009-03-20 10:25 pm (UTC)Really? I don't know nothing about that... I'm just here for fun!
You know - 'blue eyed' and so... ;-)