Margaret had always thought a man seduced a woman by making her aware of his charms: his body, his wealth, his kisses. How naive she had been. Ash Turner seduced her with the promise of her own self.
The Countess of Cambury is like a deep, dark hole – secrets go in, but none of them ever come out.” “Sebastian,” Violet replied, calmly looping the yarn about one of her needles, “it is neither proper nor respectful to let a woman know that you think of her as nothing more than a hole.
This time, his gaze fixed on her and stayed. The wind blew, whipping her skirts about her ankles, as if he’d called up a gale with the intensity of his stare.
Ash.” Margaret knew her voice was trembling. “Why are you doing this?” “Because I adore you. Because you looked so stricken when I saw you and I couldn’t bear not to comfort you.” His voice was warm breath against her skin. “Did you know, when you left that room, you took all the light with you?
I’ll not pretend that I want you for anything but mine.
He wasn’t sure what he was saying, either, but he felt as if he were slipping into some dangerous world – one where answers ceased to be easy.
Hugo reached down and plucked a spare twig from the ground and set it on the bench between them. “This,” he said, “is a wall, and I will not cross it.
He held her for a minute, then two, then three, simply holding her and committing to memory what he could not have in life.
He was ‘susceptible’ to her. If he wasn’t careful, he might end up nursing a full-blown interest.
Miss Marshall spent her life daring those more powerful than her to swat her down. The hell of it was, her determination was some kind of contagion. He could feel it infecting him, making him believe. Making him tell himself lies like ‘I could do some good’ and ‘I want her forever’.
Gray! No, anything but gray. Gray is nothing but a white that can’t make up its mind.
Truths designed to mislead are just as bad as lies.
Libraries are the future of reading.
If it must be done, it’s best done bravely.
Of course; a nurse wouldn’t have been quite so bold in her speech. Not to a duke’s heir. Not even to a wealthy tradesman who held the power of her employment in his too-large hands.
If people did not fear me so, how could anyone tolerate me?
Maybe that’s what I have been looking for. When storms and rockslides threaten, I am looking for someone who will hold on to me and not let go.
No man is broken because bad things happen to him. He’s broken because he doesn’t keep going after those things happen.
When someone else’s safety and acceptance in society is on the line, your personal discomfort comes in a very distant second.
You see, I’m not some shiny bauble to be strung onto a necklace and displayed for all the world to see. I’m too proud to ever be anyone’s conquest.