“(...)Did she really tell Roddy Carstairs she could outshoot him with his own pistol?"
"No," Jason said dryly. "She told him that if he made one more improper advance to her, she would shoot him- and if she missed, she would turn Wolf loose on him. And if Wolf didn't finish the job, she had every faith I would." Jason chuckled and shook his head. "It's the first time I've been nominated for the role of hero. I was a little crushed, however, to be second choice after the dog.”
“I do not believe that grief is ever so great that it can not be contained within.”
“I was a fool! Loving someone who doesn't love you is hell! Don't ever let anyone convince you that you can be happy with someone who doesn't love you.”
“Let me go.”
“I can’t”, he said hoarsely, (…)” I’ve tried a hundred times to let you go, Victoria, but I can’t.”
“Love can't be forced into existence,(...)It won't come simply because you will it to happen”
“Every fop and fool in London has been sniffing after her." Having said that, Jason returned his attention for the report. "Go ahead and read off the names, if you must."
Frowning in surprise at Jason's dismissive attitude, Charles took the seat across the desk from him and put on his spectacles. "First, there is young Lord Crowley, who has already asked my permission to court her."
"No. Too impulsive," Jason decreed flatly.
"What makes you say so?" Charles said with a bewildered look.
"Crowley doesn't know Victoria well enough to want to 'court' her, as you so quaintly phrased it."
"Don't be ridiculous. The first four men on this list have already asked my permission to do the same thing- providing, of course, that your claim on her is not unbreakable.”
“No, to all those four men- for the same reason,” Jason said curtly, leaning back in his chair, absorbed in the report in his hand. Who’s next?”
“Crowley’s friend, Lord Wiltshire.”
“Too young. Who’s next?”
“Too short,” Jason said cryptically. “Next?”
“William Rogers,” Charles shot back in a challenging voice, “and he’s tall, conservative, mature, intelligent, and handsome. He’s also the heir to one of the finest estates in England. I think he would do very well for Victoria.”
“No?” Charles burst out. “Why not?”
“I don’t like the way Roger sits a horse.”
“You don’t like_” Charles bit out in angry disbelief; then he glanced at Jason’s implacable face and sighed. “Very well. The last name on my list is Lord Terrance. He sits horses extremely well, in addition to being and excellent chap. He is also tall, handsome, intelligent, and wealthy. Now,” he finished triumphantly, “what fault can you find with him?”
Jason’s jaw tightened ominously.“I don’t like him.”
“Was it me you were discussing?” he countered with lifted brows. “I couldn’t tell from the description you were giving. Since when am I kind, considerate, refined, and amiable?”
“You’re angry,” Victoria concluded on a sigh.
A low chuckle rumbled in his chest and his arms tightened, drawing her close to his leann, muscular body. “I’m not angry,” he said in a husky, gentle voice. “I’m embarrassed”
“Did he happen to select a color too?"
"Blue?" Victoria burst out, prepared to do physical battle for white.
Madame nodded, her finger thoughtfully pressed to her lips, her own hand plunked upon her waist. "Yes, blue. Ice blue. He said you are glorious in that color-'a titian-haired angel,' he said"
Victoria abruptly decided ice blue was a lovely color to be married in.”
“Jason, stop this,” she pleaded. “You don’t want to kiss me. You don’t even like me more than a little when you aren’t foxed”
A harsh laugh escaped him. “I like you too damned much!” he whispered bitterly, then pulled her head down and captured her lips in a demaning, scalding kiss that took everything and give nothing in return.”
“To accomplish that, I created Victoria Seaton, a young American who was”
“You don’t listen.” “I always listen,” Ranger said. “I don’t always agree. I have a problem right now that I can’t seem to solve by myself. I need you to help me find my daughter. And there’s an even bigger problem involved. I feel a financial and moral obligation to my daughter. I send child support, I send birthday and Christmas presents, I visit when I’m invited. But I’ve kept myself emotionally distanced. I’m not emotionally distanced from you. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you because I was using you to find someone . . . even if that someone was my daughter. So I have to make every effort to keep you safe.” “You’re a little smothering.”
“NANCY DREW began peeling off her garden gloves as she ran up the porch steps and into the hall to answer the ringing telephone. She picked it up and said, “Hello!” “Hi, Nancy! This is Helen.” Although Helen Corning was nearly three years older than Nancy, the two girls were close friends. “Are you tied up on a case?” Helen asked. “No. What’s up? A mystery?” “Yes—a haunted house.”
“Giannine--What are they going to do: smack me on the head with a pamplet?”
“I didn't see anybody I knew and I began to feel lonely, but pleasantly so. I was at that stage of the evening where you fantasize that everyone is looking at you, the romantic stranger, out of the corners of their eyes.”
“Was it frisson when you saw a guy smile and it made your heart act all weird?”
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