He was still thoughtful. ‘Do you think any of us ever really knows anyone?’ ‘Philosophy, Lord Dryden? And yet it’s daylight and everyone is still sober.
He would ask nothing else from life if he would be allowed to protect and cherish her for the rest of his.
I love you so much i can hardly tell my own heart from yours anymore, and I’ve never said it to another woman in my life as it’s never until now been true.
Something was stirring in him, though; a bud of comprehension that could very well bloom into forgiveness if left unchecked.
Of course you’re sorry. The first words out of the mouths of men who are caught doing something they’re only too happy to continue until they’re caught.
It isn’t a weakness to accept kindness. It isn’t a weakness to allow yourself to be cared for.
Magnanimous of you.’His mouth twitched. ‘Mmm. Use more words like that, please. Schoolmistress words. Long, impressive ones.’ He’d made the last three words sound like an innuendo.
He was close enough now to see that her profile was designed to do dramatic things to hearts: stop them, steal them, break them.
But she bravely kept her eyes open; she was both lost and found in the soft, burning depths of his eyes.
The question remains… who takes care of you, Miss Vale?” “I might ask the same question of you, Lord Dryden.
Rebecca stared back at him, still dazed. She’d forgotten how to speak; it seemed an unimportant skill, anyhow, when such kisses were to be had, when a whole world could be made from a kiss.
Their faces were inches apart now, and he traced her lips with one finger, lightly, lightly, then placed his lips there as if he’d drawn them into being.
Only two things kept her from loathing him.The expression on his face when he’d said, “France.” And the expression on his face when he’d said, “home.
He wished for access to all the world’s languages at once, for then he would have a better word for how he felt and what she was.
Her laugh was wonderful. It was mischief made musical.
I will die, however,” he said quite seriously, “if you leave me again. Just watch me.
I suppose we all tend to want the impossible. And sometimes in attempting it we achieve something near enough to the impossible to elicit satisfaction.
She charmed and sparkled and said witty things, but she knew very well she was being charming and sparkling and witty while she was doing it, which somehow felt wrong.