“The question, love, is whether you want me enough to take the risk.”
“...whether he stayed or left, whether they walked the same path or not. They could live on opposite sides of the world, and she would still be his.”
“But the absence of tears wasn't the same as an absence of feeling.”
“Cam held her closer. "Marry me, Amelia. You're what I want. You're my fate." One hand slid to the back of her head, gripping the braids and ribbons to keep her mouth upturned. "Say yes." He nibbled at her lips, licked at them, opened them. He kissed her until she writhed in his arms, her pulse racing. "Say it, Amelia, and save me from ever having to spend a night with another woman. I'll sleep indoors. I'll get a haircut. God help me, I think I'd even carry a pocket watch if it pleased you.”
“A slow smile had curved St. Vincent's lips. 'Wives are a different case altogether. They require a great deal of effort but the rewards are substantial. I highly recommend wives. Especially one's own.”
“Rohan's fingertips drifted with stunning delicacy over her throat, behind her ear, pushing into the satiny warmth of her hair. "You are an interesting woman Amelia."
Gooseflesh rose wherever his breath touched. "I can't f-fathom why you would think so."
His playful mouth traced the wing of her brow. "I find you thoroughly, deeply interesting. I want to open you like a book and read every page." A smile curved the corners of his lips as he added huskily, "Footnotes included.”
“Rohan, one of us is an unmarried man with superior mathematical abilities and no prospects for the evening. The other is a confirmed lecher in an amorous mood, with a willing and nubile young wife waiting at home. Who do you think should do the damned account books?" And, with a nonchalant wave, St. Vincent had left the office.”
“She shook her head as she confessed, "I want it so much, I'm afraid to hope."
"Never be afraid to hope," Rohan said gently. "It's the
only way to begin."
-Rohan to Win”
“I'm not the marrying kind -"
St. Vincent snorted. "No man is. Marriage is a female invention.”
“I think in a moment of weakness, you might surprise yourself.”
“The Rom believe you should take the road that calls to you, and never turn back. Because you never know what adventures await.” He reached for her slowly, giving her every opportunity to object. Through the cottony gauze of her nightgown, he touched the curve of her hips. He brought her close, into his hard weight.
“So we’re going to take this road,” he murmured, “and see where it leads.”
“A lack of desire is something I've never experienced. I'd have to
be on my deathbed before I stopped wanting--no, never mind, I was on my deathbed in the not-too-distant past, and even then I had the devil's own itch for my wife."
-Sebastian, Lord St. Vincent”
“Amelia stopped before him, her skirts crowded between his parted knees. The clean, salty, evergreen scent of him drifted to her nostrils. “I have a proposition for you,” she said, trying for a businesslike tone. “A very sensible one. You see—” She paused to clear her throat. “I’ve been thinking about your problem.” “What problem?” Cam played lightly with the folds of her skirts, watching her face alertly. “Your good-luck curse. I know how to get rid of it. You should marry into a family with very, very bad luck. A family with expensive problems. And then you won’t have to be embarrassed about having so much money, because it will flow out nearly as fast as it comes in."
"Very sensible.” Cam took her shaking hand in his, pressed it between his warm palms. And touched his foot to her rapidly tapping one.
“Hummingbird,” he whispered, “you don’t have to be nervous with me.”
Gathering her courage, Amelia blurted out, “I want your ring. I want never to take it off again. I want to be your romni forever”—she paused with a quick, abashed smile—“whatever that is.”
“My bride. My wife.” Amelia froze in a moment of throat-clenching delight as she felt him slide the gold ring onto her finger, easing it to the base.
“When we were with Leo, tonight,” she said scratchily, “I knew exactly how he felt about losing Laura. He told me once that I couldn’t understand unless I had loved someone that way. He was right. And tonight, as I watched you with him . . . I knew what I would think at the very last moment of my life.” His thumb smoothed over the tender surface of her knuckle.
“Yes, love?”
"I would think,” she continued,” ‘Oh, if I could have just one more day with Cam. I would fit a lifetime into those few hours.”
“I suppose now I'm obliged to wish you happiness in your new life. Although happiness in the absence of indoor plumbing is a debatable concept.”
“I know when something is too important to be decided by logic.”
“Believe me, when my ‘personal endowments’ are being discussed, I always pay attention.” ~ Cam Rohan”
“You're like someone from a fairy story written in a language I don't even know."
"The prince, I hope."
"No, you're the dragon, a beautiful wicked dragon.”
“Any man," she muttered, "who wanted to marry into the Hathaway family after this should be shut away in an institution."
"Marriage is an institution," he said.”
“Before Rohan could reply, a new voice entered the conversation. "What's this?"
It was Leo, who had just arisen from bed and pulled on his clothes. He came barefoot from the direction of his bedroom. His bleary gaze moved over the pair of them.
"Why are you on the floor with your buttons undone?"
Amelia considered the question. "I decided to have a spontaneous tryst in the middle of the hallway with a man I hardly know."
"Well, try to be quiet about it next time. A fellow needs his sleep."
Amelia stared at him quizzically. "For heaven's sake, Leo, aren't you worried that I may have been compromised?"
"Were you?"
"I..." Her face turned hot as she glanced into Rohan's vivid topaz eyes. "I don't think so."
"If you're not sure about it," Leo said, "you probably weren't.”
“You’re not like any man I’ve ever known,” she said. “You’re not even someone I could have dreamed. You’re like someone from a fairy story written in a language I don’t even know.”
“The prince, I hope.”
“No, you’re the dragon, a beautiful wicked dragon.” Her voice turned wistful. “How could anyone have a normal everyday life with you?” Cam took her in a safe, firm grip and lowered her to the mattress. “Maybe you’ll be a civilizing influence on me.” He bent over the slope of her breast, kissing it through the muslin veil of her gown. “Or maybe you’ll get a taste for the dragon.” He found the bud of her nipple, wet the cotton with his mouth, until the tender flesh pricked up against his tongue.
“I th-think I already have.” She sounded so perturbed that he laughed. “Then lie still,” he whispered, “while I breathe fire on you.”
“I'd agree with you, except that agreeing with you probably means I'm on the wrong side of the argument."
"-Cam Rohan”
“Although most advice should be distrusted, particularly when it comes from myself . . . keep an open mind, Miss Hathaway. One should never look a rich husband in the mouth." - St. Vincent”
“And then another letter had come from Christopher, so devastating that Amelia wondered how mere scratches of ink on paper could rip someone's soul to shreds. She had wondered how she could feel so much pain and still survive.”
“Amelia, if we have children… will you mind that they're part Roma?"
"Not if you don't mind that they're part Hathaway.”
“Lord St. Vincent sees to it that his wife is dressed like a queen. I'll tell thee summat: if she wanted the moon for her looking glass, he'd find a way to pull it down for her.”
“Aún. La tentadora promesa incrustada en esa palabra le cortó el aliento.”
“Never be afraid to hope," Rohan said gently. "It's the
only way to begin.”
“He kissed her as if he could breathe her in. Fierce kisses, hard ones, teasingly articulate ones, soft enticing ones, kiss to light bonfires and fill the sky and hold the stars aloft.”
“—Colibrí —susurró él—. Será mejor que se vaya. Si no lo hace, terminaré comprometiéndola de un modo como nunca creí posible.”
“He looked disheveled and disreputable, like an outlaw on the run. A smile came to his lips, while he stared at her intently. "It seems I can't stay away from you," he said.”
“White paint can be made of many things. It can come from chalk or zinc, barium or rice, or from little fossilized sea creatures in limestone graves. The Dutch artist Jan Vermeer even made some of his luminescent whites with a recipe that included alabaster and quartz—in lumps that took the light reflected into the painting and made it dance.3”
“Education is experience, and the essence of experience is self-reliance.”
“You could find beauty nearly anywhere if you stopped to look for it, but the battle to get through the days made it easy to forget that this totally cost-free luxury existed.”
“Art is just as important as food, 'cause if your soul ain't nourished, you one empty mutherfucker.”
“What if that were true?
Was that so bad?
To have created love like that out of absolutely nothing—it was a sort of miracle, wasn't it? To have set that kind of example for their son—for Flash—for everyone who saw them fumbling along together, walking, talking, marveling at life. It was a kind of glory, if he thought about it, he realized. A common uncontested outright glory for mankind, he thought. Like each and every unnamed, uncontested, unsung star up there, coupling with the dark for us to contemplate in silence.”
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