All this talk of folds and rods and buttons. Are we copulating or sewing draperies?
The most dangerous weapon is the one that strikes closest to the heart.
If anyone or anything frightens you, shout.” “Shout what?” He made an aimless gesture. “‘Help,’ I suppose. Or ‘Fire’ or ‘Murder.’ In a pinch, ‘James’ would suffice.” She nodded. “‘Come to me, you magnificent stag,’ it is.
Chase planted his boot on the floor, levered for the advantage, and flipped them both. He straddled Ashbury’s chest and stared down at his scarred face. “I’ve given you the benefit of the doubt on Alex’s account, but now I’m angry. I may not have a bloodthirsty cat, but I know a girl who can make a small bowel obstruction look like an accident, and I have a great deal of experience giving eulogies.
I named all the nothings after you. Because, my darling Nora... no matter where I traveled, you were always what was missing.
He shushed her. “Goodnight. We’re trapped together in a small, dark space. For the moment, we’re getting on as well as could possibly be expected. I don’t think this is the time to remind me of my many valid reasons to resent your presence and despise everything you stand for.
Here were three people who desperately needed each other – perhaps even loved each other – and they would all rather contract consumption than admit it.
Be honest, Miss Mountbatten.” “I am being honest. Mr. Reynaud has not subjected me to any unwanted attentions, nor taken advantage of me in any way.” Ash looked suspicious, but he didn’t belabor the question. “Regardless. His sexual escapades are merely the tip of the iceberg.” “Oh, I haven’t even acquainted her with the tip,” Chase said merrily. “Not properly.
She’d declined to attend parties and balls, citing her devotion to the Highland hero of her dreams – but really because she’d preferred to stay home with a book.
Surely you know the feeling of infatuation. Everyone does. It’s not merely physical admiration. Your mind fixes on a person, and it’s as though you float through the days, singing a song that only has one word, thinking of nothing but the next time you’ll see them again.
Squabbling over too little is just human nature. But it says a great deal about a person, what they do with abundance.
I’m a rather useless insomniac viscount, but” – he gestured at Minerva – “my companion here is a brilliant geologist. There’s a symposium, you see. We need to get to Edinburgh by tomorrow, so she can present her findings about giant lizards and possibly alter our understanding of the world’s natural history.
In fact, the possibility was so far out of the question, the possibility and the question were on separate continents.
Everything in his life backfired. First that rocket at Waterloo. Then his engagement. Now this whole blasted arrangement with Emma. Despite the supposedly impersonal nature of their marriage, she was slowly working her way under his skin, under his scars. If not deeper.
I lived in the grip of laudanum. I know what it is to crave. To tremble with wanting, be ruled by need. It nearly destroyed me. This is worse. There’s no respite. As soon as I leave your bed, I’m counting the hours until the next night.
He had no secrets left. No defenses. He had nothing, except that same vast, dark, empty, infinite ache that had resided in him for as long as he could remember. An endless flight of stairs, leading down and down into the cold, dark pit of his soul. Now, at long last, he’d reached the absolute rock bottom. And there she was, just standing there. She’d been there all along.
For this moment, there was no before and no after. There was only now, and now was everything.
People want to leave a mark on the world,” Alex said. “It’s human nature. Some are remembered by their accomplishments, or their virtues. Others live on through their children.” She trailed her fingers over Daisy’s back as she strolled by. “And if he has none of those to leave behind, a man carves his name into the wall. We all want to be remembered.
We should go after the girls.” “Yes, we should.” Neither of them moved. Alex bit her lip. “We’re going to kiss instead, aren’t we.” He caught her in his arms. “You’re goddamned right, we are.
As deaths go, it would have been a kind one. There were worse ways to meet one’s demise than being buried alive in literature.