Iain took hold of both her hands and squeezed to get her attention. Then he took a deep breath. Even with his men watching, he wanted the words to be right, his declaration to be one she would always remember. It was a damned awkward undertaking, trying to think of loving words, and he had absolutely no experience in this area, but he was still determined not to muck it up. The moment needed to be perfect for her. “Judith,” he began. “Yes, Iain?” “I’m keeping you.
She was the love of his life. “Hell.
Frances Catherine, I’m going to win this argument,” Judith announced. She nodded to her friend when she made that prediction. “Why?” “Because it’s my turn,” she explained. “You may win the next argument.” “Lord, you’re stubborn.
May you always have A sunbeam to warm you, A moonbeam to charm you, A sheltering angel so nothing can harm you. An Irish Blessing.
Do you deliberately try to provoke me?” He waited for her denial. An apology, too. He didn’t get either. “Yes, I do believe I am trying to deliberately provoke you.
A compliment about one’s nature is more important because a person has to choose how to behave, whilst a compliment about one’s appearance doesn’t mean overly much because there is no choice involved there.
I realize you don’t understand you shouldn’t argue with me, and so I’ll explain it to you. Don’t argue with me.
He was so damned happy to see her, he frowned. She smiled back.
He merely accepted that this was unique and so special he would never be able to settle for anything less again.
Sometimes extraordinary things can happen on the most ordinary of days.
The ruby landed at the baron’s feet. “Repayment, Baron, from Lady Kincaid.
Okay, I’ll ask. How come you’re being sued? And how come you’re so calm about it?” “I might as well be calm,” she said. “Getting all worked up won’t do any good.
Richards then pulled the pen and ink well close.
A smile suddenly softened her rigid stance. “I’ve put Christina’s satchel inside your carriage, Lyon. You’ve lasted a good hour longer than I imagined you would.” Aunt Harriett wrapped Christina in a suffocatingly affectionate hug, then released her. “Be gentle this night,” she instructed Lyon. “I shall.” It was Christina who gave the promise. Both Lyon and his aunt looked at her. “She means me, Christina,” Lyon said dryly. “You have only to remember that.
Abhor that which is evil; Cleave to that which is good.
Judith, do you take Ian for your husband?” She looked up at him before giving her answer. “We’ll see.
Dreams are for little girls to whisper to each other. They don’t really come true. I’m a fully grown woman now, Frances Catherine. I don’t imagine impossible things.
To do injustice is more disgraceful than to suffer it.” PLATO, GORGIAS.
Like it or not, she was going to belong to him.
Appearances and manners often cloak a black soul.