Awwwwwwwwwwww Quotes

“Lying under such a myriad of stars. The sea’s black horizon. He rose and walked out and stood barefoot in the sand and watched the pale surf appear all down the shore and roll and crash and darken again. When he went back to the fire he knelt and smoothed her hair as she slept and he said if he were God he would have made the world just so and no different.”
― Cormac McCarthy, The Road

“Spare change. Can't imagine how it got there."
She tipped her head in reproach.
He exhaled, sounding resigned. "It's not what you think."
She turned her hand palm-up between them, letting the coin serve as its own accusation. "I think I know a shilling when I see one."
"Look again."
She looked down at the coin in her gloved palm, where its embossed face stood out in sharp relief against white satin. Light glinted off the surface, revealing the color to be not the expected dull silver, but a coppery hue instead.
Oh.
A sharp pang of surprise caught her heart. He'd been telling the truth. It wasn't a shilling after all.
It was a penny.
A bright, newly minted penny. One he'd been keeping tucked in his breast pocket. Right next to his heart.
She drew a shaky breath. "Gabriel."
His hands went to her shoulders- but it was his low, husky voice that reached out and drew her close. "You know the squalor I was born to. And you know I promised myself I'd never be that barefoot, starving boy again."
She nodded.
"I have every luxury a man could desire. Hundreds of thousands of pounds in my accounts. I worked like hell to build a fortune, and yet..." His thumb met her cheek with a reverent caress. "Now I'd sell my soul for a Penny.”
― Tessa Dare, The Wallflower Wager

“When Gabriel was about Ivo's age," the duchess remarked almost dreamily, staring out at the plum-colored sky, "he found a pair of orphaned fox cubs in the woods, at a country manor we'd leased in Hampshire. Has he told you about that?"
Pandora shook her head, her eyes wide.
A reminiscent smile curved the duchess's full lips. "It was a pair of females, with big ears, and eyes like shiny black buttons. They made chirping sounds, like small birds. Their mother had been killed in a poacher's trap, so Gabriel wrapped the poor th-things in his coat and brought them home. They were too young to survive on their own. Naturally, he begged to be allowed to keep them. His father agreed to let him raise them under the gamekeeper's supervision, until they were old enough to return the f-forest. Gabriel spent weeks spoon-feeding them with a mixture of meat paste and milk. Later on, he taught them to stalk and catch prey in an outside pen."
"How?" Pandora asked, fascinated.
The older woman glanced at her with an unexpectedly mischievous grin. "He dragged dead mice through their pen on a string."
"That's horrid," Pandora exclaimed, laughing.
"It was," the duchess agreed with a chuckle. "Gabriel pretended not to mind, of course, but it was qu-quite disgusting. Still, the cubs had to learn." The duchess paused before continuing more thoughtfully. "I think for Gabriel, the most difficult part of raising them was having to keep his distance, no matter how he loved them. No p-petting or cuddling, or even giving them names. They couldn't lose their fear of humans, or they wouldn't survive. As the gamekeeper told him, he might as well murder them if he made them tame. It tortured Gabriel, he wanted to hold them so badly."
"Poor boy."
"Yes. But when Gabriel finally let them go, they scampered away and were able to live freely and hunt for themselves. It was a good lesson for him to learn."
"What was the lesson?" Pandora asked soberly. "Not to love something he knew he would lose?"
The duchess shook her head, her gaze warm and encouraging. "No, Pandora. He learned how to love them without changing them. To let them be what they were meant to be.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil in Spring

“For the time being, all you need to do is become acquainted with St. Vincent. And if you decide you don't wish to marry him, for any reason, you won't have to."
They both stood. Impulsively, Pandora stepped forward and dove her face against Devon's chest and hugged him, undoubtedly surprising I'm as much as herself. She rarely sought out physical contact with anyone. "Thank you," she said in a muffled voice. "It means a great deal that my feelings matter to you."
"Of course they do, sweetheart." Devon gave her a comforting squeeze before drawing back to look down at her. "Do you know the motto on the Ravenel coat of arms?"
"Loyalté nous lie."
Do you know what that means?"
"'Never make us angry?'" Pandora guessed, and was rewarded by his deep laugh. "Actually, I do know," she said. "It means 'loyalty binds us.'"
"That's right," Devon said. "Whatever happens, we Ravenels will remain loyal to each other. We'll never sacrifice one for the sake of the rest.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil in Spring

“As the third evening approached, Gabriel looked up blearily as two people entered the room.
His parents.
The sight of them infused him with relief. At the same time, their presence unlatched all the wretched emotion he'd kept battened down until this moment. Disciplining his breathing, he stood awkwardly, his limbs stiff from spending hours on the hard chair. His father came to him first, pulling him close for a crushing hug and ruffling his hair before going to the bedside.
His mother was next, embracing him with her familiar tenderness and strength. She was the one he'd always gone to first whenever he'd done something wrong, knowing she would never condemn or criticize, even when he deserved it. She was a source of endless kindness, the one to whom he could entrust his worst thoughts and fears.
"I promised nothing would ever harm her," Gabriel said against her hair, his voice cracking.
Evie's gentle hands patted his back.
"I took my eyes off her when I shouldn't have," he went on. "Mrs. Black approached her after the play- I pulled the bitch aside, and I was too distracted to notice-" He stopped talking and cleared his throat harshly, trying not to choke on emotion.
Evie waited until he calmed himself before saying quietly, "You remember when I told you about the time your f-father was badly injured because of me?"
"That wasn't because of you," Sebastian said irritably from the bedside. "Evie, have you harbored that absurd idea for all these years?"
"It's the most terrible feeling in the world," Evie murmured to Gabriel. "But it's not your fault, and trying not to make it so won't help either of you. Dearest boy, are you listening to me?"
Keeping his face pressed against her hair, Gabriel shook his head.
"Pandora won't blame you for what happened," Evie told him, "any more than your father blamed me."
"Neither of you are to blame for anything," his father said, "except for annoying me with this nonsense. Obviously the only person to blame for this poor girl's injury is the woman who attempted to skewer her like a pinioned duck." He straightened the covers over Pandora, bent to kiss her forehead gently, and sat in the bedside chair. "My son... guilt, in proper measure, can be a useful emotion. However, when indulged to excess it becomes self-defeating, and even worse, tedious." Stretching out his long legs, he crossed them negligently. "There's no reason to tear yourself to pieces worrying about Pandora. She's going to make a full recovery."
"You're a doctor now?" Gabriel asked sardonically, although some of the weight of grief and worry lifted at his father's confident pronouncement.
"I daresay I've seen enough illness and injuries in my time, stabbings included, to predict the outcome accurately. Besides, I know the spirit of this girl. She'll recover."
"I agree," Evie said firmly.
Letting out a shuddering sigh, Gabriel tightened his arms around her.
After a long moment, he heard his mother say ruefully, "Sometimes I miss the days when I could solve any of my children's problems with a nap and a biscuit."
"A nap and a biscuit wouldn't hurt this one at the moment," Sebastian commented dryly. "Gabriel, go find a proper bed and rest for a few hours. We'll watch over your little fox cub.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil in Spring

“He felt a twinge in his chest, and with a disturbing jolt, he realised it was panic. She'd been the one to wake him from his stupor in the cart. Her voice had brought him back from the dark;it had been the tether he gripped and used to drag himself back to some semblance of sanity”
― Leigh Bardugo, Six of Crows

“Risking a glance at the dignified young man beside her- what was his name?- Mr. Arthurson, Arterton?- Pandora decided to try her hand at some small talk.
"It was very fine weather today, wasn't it?" she said.
He set down his flatware and dabbed at both corners of his mouth with his napkin before replying. "Yes, quite fine."
Encouraged, Pandora asked, "What kind of clouds do you like better- cumulus or stratocumulus?"
He regarded her with a slight frown. After a long pause, he asked, "What is the difference?"
"Well, cumulus are the fluffier, rounder clouds, like this heap of potatoes on my plate." Using her fork, Pandora spread, swirled, and dabbed the potatoes. "Stratocumulus are flatter and can form lines or waves- like this- and can either form a large mass or break into smaller pieces."
He was expressionless as he watched her. "I prefer flat clouds that look like a blanket."
"Altostratus?" Pandora asked in surprise, setting down her fork. "But those are the boring clouds. Why do you like them?"
"They usually mean it's going to rain. I like rain."
This showed promise of actually turning into a conversation. "I like to walk in the rain, too," Pandora exclaimed.
"No, I don't like to walk in it. I like to stay in the house." After casting a disapproving glance at her plate, the man returned his attention to eating.
Chastened, Pandora let out a noiseless sigh. Picking up her fork, she tried to inconspicuously push her potatoes into a proper heap again.


Fact #64 Never sculpt your food to illustrate a point during small talk. Men don't like it.


As Pandora looked up, she discovered Phoebe's gaze on her. She braced inwardly for a sarcastic remark.
But Phoebe's voice was gentle as she spoke. "Henry and I once saw a cloud over the English Channel that was shaped in a perfect cylinder. It went on as far as the eye could see. Like someone had rolled up a great white carpet and set it in the sky."
It was the first time Pandora had ever heard Phoebe mention her late husband's name. Tentatively, she asked, "Did you and he ever try to find shapes in the clouds?"
"Oh, all the time. Henry was very clever- he could find dolphins, ships, elephants, and roosters. I could never see a shape until he pointed it out. But then it would appear as if by magic." Phoebe's gray eyes turned crystalline with infinite variations of tenderness and wistfulness.
Although Pandora had experienced grief before, having lost both parents and a brother, she understood that this was a different kind of loss, a heavier weight of pain. Filled with compassion and sympathy, she dared to say, "He... he sounds like a lovely man."
Phoebe smiled faintly, their gazes meeting in a moment of warm connection. "He was," she said. "Someday I'll tell you about him."
And finally Pandora understood where a little small talk about the weather might lead.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil in Spring

“The air was steeped with the heady fragrance of roses, as if the entire hall had been rinsed with expensive perfume.
"Good Lord!" she exclaimed, stopping short at the sight of massive bunches of flowers being brought in from a cart outside. Mountains of white roses, some of them tightly furled buds, some in glorious full bloom. Two footmen had been recruited to assist the driver of the cart, and the three of them kept going outside to fetch bouquet after bouquet wrapped in stiff white lace paper.
"Fifteen dozen of them," Marcus said brusquely. "I doubt there's a single white rose left in London."
Aline could not believe how fast her heart was beating. Slowly she moved forward and drew a single rose from one of the bouquets. Cupping the delicate bowl of the blossom with her fingers, she bent her head to inhale its lavish perfume. Its petals were a cool brush of silk against her cheek.
"There's something else," Marcus said.
Following his gaze, Aline saw the butler directing yet another footman to pry open a huge crate filled with brick-sized parcels wrapped in brown paper. "What are they, Salter?"
"With your permission, my lady, I will find out." The elderly butler unwrapped one of the parcels with great care. He spread the waxed brown paper open to reveal a damply fragrant loaf of gingerbread, its spice adding a pungent note to the smell of the roses.
Aline put her hand over her mouth to contain a bubbling laugh, while some undefinable emotion caused her entire body to tremble. The offering worried her terribly, and at the same time, she was insanely pleased by the extravagance of it.
"Gingerbread?" Marcus asked incredulously. "Why the hell would McKenna send you an entire crate of gingerbread?"
"Because I like it," came Aline's breathless reply. "How do you know this is from McKenna?"
Marcus gave her a speaking look, as if only an imbecile would suppose otherwise.
Fumbling a little with the envelope, Aline extracted a folded sheet of paper. It was covered in a bold scrawl, the penmanship serviceable and without flourishes.


No miles of level desert, no jagged mountain heights,
no sea of endless blue
Neither words nor tears, nor silent fears
will keep me from coming back to you.


There was no signature... none was necessary. Aline closed her eyes, while her nose stung and hot tears squeezed from beneath her lashes. She pressed her lips briefly to the letter, not caring what Marcus thought.
"It's a poem," she said unsteadily. "A terrible one." It was the loveliest thing she had ever read. She held it to her cheek, then used her sleeve to blot her eyes.
"Let me see it."
Immediately Aline tucked the poem into her bodice. "No, it's private." She swallowed against the tightness of her throat, willing the surge of unruly emotion to recede. "McKenna," she whispered, "how you devastate me.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Again the Magic

“After a brief murmured exchange, the lady's maid opened the door a bit wider, and Phoebe's brother Ivo stuck his head inside.
"Hullo, sis," he said casually. "You look very nice in that gold dress."
"It's ecru." At his perplexed look, she repeated, "Ecru."
"God bless you," Ivo said, and gave her a cheeky grin as he entered the room.
Phoebe lifted her gaze heavenward. "Why are you here, Ivo?"
"I'm going to escort you downstairs, so you don't have to go alone."
Phoebe was so moved, she couldn't speak. She could only stare at the eleven-year-old boy, who was volunteering to take the place her husband would have assumed.
"It was Father's idea," Ivo continued, a touch bashfully. "I'm sorry I'm not as tall as the other ladies' escorts, or even as tall as you. I'm really only half an escort. But that's still better than nothing, isn't it?" His expression turned uncertain as he saw that her eyes were watering.
After clearing her throat, Phoebe managed an unsteady reply. "At this moment, my gallant Ivo, you tower above every other gentleman here. I'm so very honored."
He grinned and offered his arm in a gesture she had seen him practice in the past with their father. "The honor is mine, sis."
In that moment, Phoebe had the briefest intimation of what Ivo would be like as a full-grown man, confident and irresistibly charming.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter

“One night," Lillian continued, "Daisy was ill, and they kept her in the nursery. I had to sleep in another room in case the fever was catching. I was frightened for my sister, and I woke up in the middle of the night crying. Rafe heard me and came to ask what was the matter. I told him how worried I was for Daisy, and also about a terrible nightmare I'd had. So Rafe went to his room, and came back with one of his soldiers. An infantryman. Rafe put it on the table by my bed, and told me, 'This is the bravest and most stalwart of all my men. He'll stand guard over you during the night, and chase off all your worries and bad dreams.'" The countess smiled absently at the memory. "And it worked.”
― Lisa Kleypas, A Wallflower Christmas

“A nautilus shell. I've never found one before."
It was a nice big one, a rare find, not too damaged by the battering waves. Alex couldn't know it, but it was Mamma's favorite kind of shell. The nautilus is a symbol of harmony and peace, she used to say.
"You can have it if you want," he said, holding the shell out to her.
"No. You found it." Rosa kept her hands at her sides even though she wanted it desperately.
"I'm not good at keeping things." He wound up as if to throw it back into the surf.
"Don't! If you're not going to keep it, I will," Rosa said, grabbing it from him.
"I wasn't really going to throw it away," he said. "I just wanted you to have it.”
― Susan Wiggs, Summer by the Sea

“When our eyes meet, his mouth rises into a smile, almost as though he can't help himself, and then I'm smiling too, and then his goes wider, and it seems we might be caught in an infinite loop of beaming at each other like fools. And I wouldn't mind it a bit.”
― Mackenzi Lee, The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue

“Has anyone had a look at Merripen's shoulder?" Amelia asked, glancing at Win. "It's probably time for the dressing to be changed."
"I'll do it," Win said at once. "And I'll take up a supper tray."
"Beatrix will accompany you," Amelia advised.
"I can manage the tray," Win protested.
"It's not that... I meant it's not proper for you to be alone with Merripen in his room."
Win looked surprised, and made a face. "I don't need Beatrix to come. It's only Merripen, after all."
After Win left the dining hall, Poppy looked at Amelia. "Do you think that Win really doesn't know how he-"
"I have no idea. And I've never dared to broach the subject, because I don't want to put ideas into her head."
"I hope she doesn't know," Beatrix ventured. "It would be dreadfully sad if she did."
Amelia and Poppy both glanced at their younger sister quizzically. "Do you know what we're talking about, Bea?" Amelia asked.
"Yes, of course. Merripen's in love with her. I knew it a long time ago, from the way he washed her window."
"Washed her window?" both older sisters asked at the same time.
"Yes, when we lived in the cottage at Primrose Place. Win's room had a casement window that looked out onto the big maple tree- do you remember? After the scarlet fever, when Win couldn't get out of bed for the longest time and she was too weak to hold a book, she would just lie there and watch a birds' nest on one of the other tree limbs. She saw the baby swallows hatch and learn to fly. One day she complained that the window was so dirty, she could barely see through it, and it made the sky look so grayish. So from then on Merripen always kept the glass spotless. Sometimes he climbed a ladder to wash the outside, and you know how afraid of heights he is. You never saw him do that?"
"No," Amelia said with difficulty, her eyes stinging. "I didn't know he did that."
"Merripen said the sky should always be blue for her," Beatrix said. "And that was when I knew he... are you crying, Poppy?"
Poppy used a napkin to dab at the corners of her eyes. "No, I just inh-haled some pepper."
"So did I," Amelia said, blowing her nose.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Mine Till Midnight

“For the time being, all you need to do is become acquainted with St. Vincent. And if you decide you don't wish to marry him, for any reason, you won't have to."
They both stood. Impulsively, Pandora stepped forward and dove her face against Devon's chest and hugged him, undoubtedly surprising him as much as herself. She rarely sought out physical contact with anyone. "Thank you," she said in a muffled voice. "It means a great deal that my feelings matter to you."
"Of course they do, sweetheart." Devon gave her a comforting squeeze before drawing back to look down at her. "Do you know the motto on the Ravenel coat of arms?"
"Loyalté nous lie."
Do you know what that means?"
"'Never make us angry?'" Pandora guessed, and was rewarded by his deep laugh. "Actually, I do know," she said. "It means 'loyalty binds us.'"
"That's right," Devon said. "Whatever happens, we Ravenels will remain loyal to each other. We'll never sacrifice one for the sake of the rest.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil in Spring

“Albert?"
The barking became more passionate, with cries and whimpers breaking in.
Slowly Beatrix lowered to the ground and sat with her back against the shed. "Calm yourself, Albert," she said. "I'll let you out as soon as you're quiet."
The terrier growled and pawed at the door.
Having consulted several books on the subject of dogs, one on rough terriers in particular, Beatrix was fairly certain that training Albert with techniques involving dominance or punishment would not be at all effective. In fact, they would probably make his behavior worse. Terriers, the book had said, frequently tried to outsmart humans. The only method left was to reward his good behavior with praise and food and kindness.
"Of course you're unhappy, poor boy. He's gone away, and your place is by his side. But I've come to collect you, and while he's gone, we'll work on your manners. Perhaps we can't turn you into a perfect lapdog... but I'll help you learn how to get on with others." She paused before adding with a reflective grin. "Of course, I can't manage to behave properly in polite society. I've always thought there's a fair amount of dishonesty involved in politeness. There, you're quiet now." She stood and pulled at the latch. "Here is your first rule, Albert: it's very rude to maul people."
Albert burst out and jumped on her. Had she not been holding on to the support of the shed's frame, she would have been knocked over. Whining and wagging his tail, Albert stood on his hind legs and dove his face against her.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Love in the Afternoon

“Where is Albert?"
"He'll be here momentarily. I asked our housekeeper to fetch him."
Christopher blinked. "She's not afraid of him?"
"Of Albert? Heavens, no, everyone adores him."
The concept of someone, anyone, adoring his belligerent pet was difficult to grasp. Having expected to receive an inventory of all the damage Albert had caused, Christopher gave her a blank look.
And then the housekeeper returned with an obedient and well-groomed dog trotting by her side.
"Albert?" Christopher said.
The dog looked at him, ears twitching. His whiskered face changed, eyes brightening with excitement. Without hesitating, Albert launched forward with a happy yelp. Christopher knelt on the floor, gathering up an armful of joyfully wriggling canine. Albert strained to lick him, and whimpered and dove against him repeatedly.
Christopher was overwhelmed by feelings of kinship and relief. Grabbing the warm, compact body close, Christopher murmured his name and petted him roughly, and Albert whined and trembled.
"I missed you, Albert. Good boy. There's my boy." Unable to help himself, Christopher pressed his face against the rough fur. He was undone by guilt, humbled by the fact that even though he had abandoned Albert for the summer, the dog showed nothing but eager welcome. "I was away too long," Christopher murmured, looking into the soulful brown eyes. "I won't leave you again." He dragged his gaze up to Beatrix's. "It was a mistake to leave him," he said gruffly.
She was smiling at him. "Albert won't hold it against you. To err is human, to forgive, canine."
To his disbelief, Christopher felt an answering smile tug at the corners of his lips. He continued to pet the dog, who was fit and sleek. "You've taken good care of him."
"He's much better behaved than before," she said. "You can take him anywhere now."
Rising to his feet, Christopher looked down at her. "Why did you do it?" he asked softly.
"He's very much worth saving. Anyone could see that."
The awareness between them became unbearably aware. Christopher's heart worked in hard, uneven beats. How pretty she was in the white dress. She radiated a healthy female physicality that was very different from the fashionable frailty of London women. He wondered what it would be like to bed her, if she would be as direct in her passions as she was in everything else.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Love in the Afternoon

“Everything was blurry. She needed her spectacles. And it was awfully difficult to go looking for something when you couldn't see more than two feet in front of your face. Moreover, if one of the housemaids found the spectacles in Leo's room, or God help her, in his bed, everyone would find out.
Abandoning the slipper, Dodger trotted to her and stood tall, bracing his long, slender body against her knee. He was shivering, which Beatrix had told her was normal for ferrets. A ferret's temperature lowered when he was sleeping, and shivering was his way of warming himself upon awakening. Catherine reached down to stroke him. When he tried to climb into her lap, however, she nudged him away. "I don't feel well," she told the ferret woefully, although there was nothing wrong with her physically.
Chattering in annoyance at her rejection, Dodger turned and streaked out of the room.
Catherine continued to lie with her head on the table, feeling too dreary and ashamed to move.
She had slept late. She could hear the sounds of footsteps and muffled conversation coming from the lower floors. Had Leo gone down for breakfast?
She couldn't possibly face him.
Her mind returned to those blistering minutes of the previous night. A fresh swell of desire rolled through her as she thought of the way he had kissed her, the feel of his mouth on the intimate places of her body.
She heard the ferret come back into the room again, chuckling and hopping as he did whenever he was especially pleased about something. "Go away, Dodger," she said dully.
But he persisted, coming to her side and standing tall again, his body a long cylinder. Glancing at him, Catherine saw that something was clamped carefully in his front teeth. She blinked. Slowly she reached down and took the object from him.
Her spectacles.
Amazing, how much better a small gesture of kindness could make one feel.
"Thank you," she whispered, tears coming to her eyes as she stroked his tiny head. "I do love you, you disgusting weasel."
Climbing onto her lap, Dodger flipped upside down and sighed.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Married by Morning

“Did you come to see my father?"
"No, I... came to call on Miss Hathaway."
"Are you one of her suitors?"
Christopher gave a decisive shake of his head.
"You might be one," the boy said wisely, "and just not know it yet."
Christopher felt a smile- his first genuine smile in a long time- pulling at his lips. "Does Miss Hathaway have many suitors?"
"Oh, yes. But none of them want to marry her."
"Why is that, do you imagine?"
"They don't want to get shot," the child said, shrugging.
"Pardon?" Christopher's brows lifted.
"Before you marry, you have to get shot by an arrow and fall in love," the boy explained. He paused thoughtfully. "But I don't think the rest of it hurts as much as the beginning."
Christopher couldn't prevent a grin.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Love in the Afternoon

“Having consulted several books on the subject of dogs, one on rough terriers in particular, Beatrix was fairly certain that training Albert with techniques involving dominance or punishment would not be at all effective. In fact, they would probably make his behavior worse. Terriers, the book had said, frequently tried to outsmart humans. The only method left was to reward his good behavior with praise and food and kindness.
"Of course you're unhappy, poor boy. He's gone away, and your place is by his side. But I've come to collect you, and while he's gone, we'll work on your manners. Perhaps we can't turn you into a perfect lapdog... but I'll help you learn how to get on with others." She paused before adding with a reflective grin. "Of course, I can't manage to behave properly in polite society. I've always thought there's a fair amount of dishonesty involved in politeness. There, you're quiet now." She stood and pulled at the latch. "Here is your first rule, Albert: it's very rude to maul people."
Albert burst out and jumped on her. Had she not been holding on to the support of the shed's frame, she would have been knocked over. Whining and wagging his tail, Albert stood on his hind legs and dove his face against her.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Love in the Afternoon

“Listen," he whispered.
As the thrumming of her own heart quieted, Beatrix heard music. Not instruments, but human voices joined in harmony. Bemused, she went to the window and looked out. A smile lit her face.
A small group of officers from Christopher's regiment, still in uniform, were standing in a row and singing a slow, haunting ballad.


Were I laid on Greenland's coast,
And in my arms embrac'd my lass;
Warm amidst eternal frost,
Too soon the half year's night would pass.
And I would love you all the day.
Ev'ry night would kiss and play,
If with me you'd fondly stray.
Over the hills and far away...


"Our song," Beatrix whispered, as the sweet strains floated up to them.
"Yes."
Beatrix lowered to the floor and braced her folded arms on the windowsill... the same place where she had lit so many candles for a soldier fighting in a faraway land.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Love in the Afternoon

“He touched her shoulder. Shook it lightly. Said her name. She did not wake. And then, after considering his options, he reached down and gently lifted her and carried her upstairs.
Had he been able to stop time, he might have stopped it then. The weight of her within his arms, the warmth of her against his chest, the softness of her breath against his shirt- these were sensations that he wanted to remember. He climbed slowly, set his feet with care, and told himself it was because he did not wish to rouse the household, but he knew that was untrue, just as he knew he'd have to rouse at least one person.
Taking her into her room would risk her reputation and his own. He'd have to wake her father.
Monsieur Wilde, to his relief, slept lightly. Jean-Philippe had barely knocked upon his chamber door before it opened. Moonlight slanted through the window just behind and made the older man a silhouette in shadow while illuminating Lydia, and Jean-Philippe searched through the English words he'd learned to find the right ones to explain. "She sleeps," he said, "downstairs." And so there could be no misunderstanding, added, "In the chair."
The pause that followed made him wonder if he'd been mistaken in his phrasing, but at last Monsieur Wilde nodded and stepped out and motioned Jean-Philippe to follow him across the landing to the other bedchamber. The moonlight here, though not as strong, was still enough to show him where to lay her on the bed. But as he lowered her, she wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him more closely. Forced to bend, he did not mind the time it took to set her down and cautiously extract himself from her possessive hold, but when he drew the blankets over her and straightened he was glad he could not see her father's face, and that they neither of them knew the other's thoughts.”
― Susanna Kearsley, Bellewether

“I come bearing brews and treats for Longganisa. There was a gourmet pet store by the restaurant I went to last night and the salesperson promised these treats were both delicious and diet-friendly." Jae held up a four-pack of beer, a bottle of Adeena's cold brew, a bag of Elena's calming tea blend, and a box of organic dog treats. "Where should I put them?"
I led him into the kitchen, where Longganisa lay in wait. As soon as he stepped into the room, she pounced on his legs, barking and nudging him until he'd set down everything and stooped down to pet her. "Hey there, Longganisa. I missed you, too." He held out a treat and she went still. "Son jooseyo." She put a chubby paw in his hand and received a treat in return.
I laughed to myself at this scene as I washed my hands and got dinner ready. Jae had taken Nisa out one day when I was sick, and his mom had taught my dog the command for "paw" in Korean. Which was adorable in itself, but it wasn't until Jae translated and explained his mom had been politely asking my dog to "please give me your hand" that I melted.”
― Mia P. Manansala, Homicide and Halo-Halo

“I will try to be as nice as Matty. But if I fall short—”

“How do you fall short?” Selena asked, curious. “How do you fall long? Can I see? Will you show me how?”
― A. Kirk, Demons in Disguise