Melanie Dickerson · 272 pages
Rating: (13.6K votes)
“Everyone will say I'm insane, but I don't care, Rose. Is it insane to marry the girl I love? A girl with golden brown hair, with gifts of beauty and goodness and storytelling?”
“Striding up to him, Wilhelm drew his fist back and landed a clean blow to Rupert’s jaw. Rupert reeled, and after two wobbly backward steps, hit the floor on his backside. He raised a hand to his face. “Feel better?” “No. Get up so I can hit you again.”
“The pain in his chest grew so intense it took his breath away. So this is what a broken heart feels like.”
“Because he cared for her. If he were completely honest, he didn’t want Rupert to marry her, because he wanted to marry her himself.”
“Tell me, Rose. Who did this?” On his knees a mere two feet from her, he had to restrain himself again from pulling her into his arms.”
“Wilhelm studied Christoff and Georg. With a fair maiden in their midst, he knew his men too well to doubt their thoughts. He suddenly agreed with the dog. He didn’t want them staring at her.”
“The impulse to tear her attacker apart set his muscles on edge.”
“He stared at her perfect lips. “God, if you have made a way for us to be together,” he whispered, “then let me awaken her with this kiss of true love.” Slowly, he leaned toward her, closed his eyes, and pressed his lips to hers. Her eyes fluttered open. She smiled softly then reached up and touched his cheek. He covered her hand with his. “You are well?” “Yes.” Her voice was breathy. “Thank you. But if it’s all right, I think I will sleep a bit more.”
“Lord Hamlin’s eyes darted in their direction, alighted on Rose, and held. His expression changed and his features softened as he looked at her.”
“So she’d never experience love. Most married people didn’t, either.”
“Wilhelm glanced up just in time to see Rose walk in. His jaw fell. Her hair, her dress, her face…She made everyone else in the room look pale and lifeless. He’d better close his mouth before someone saw him staring.”
“When he’d seen the hurt on her face and her torn dress, then found out what Rupert had said to her, it almost ripped out his heart.”
“He was cold and wet, but somehow he barely felt it. He kept remembering Rose snuggled against his chest, the feel of her body in his arms. He closed his eyes as he recalled the way she had looked at him, the way she said “I love you.”
“She thought about all the things she would like to say to him. Thank you for wanting to defend me. Thank you for thinking Rupert is a rogue. Thank you for being a man of integrity. Oh, Lord Hamlin, if you were mine, I’d make you so happy. Rose stifled a laugh at the stupid, outrageous thought.”
“Who would marry her and take care of her? O God, let it be me. His chest ached with the fervor of his desire—and his impossible request.”
“He took a step toward her. She turned around, a tentative smile on her face. His beautiful Rose. He sank to his knees and raised his hands over his face. “Thank you, God. You’re so good to me.”
“You are the most beautiful sight,” he whispered. He leaned down and kissed her forehead. She leaned into him, her whole body melting. His lips moved to her temple, then her cheek. Finally, they slipped down and found her mouth. He kissed her slowly, reverently, his hands resting on the sides of her head, his thumbs lightly touching her cheekbones.”
“But what stuck in her mind was the way Lord Hamlin had looked at her. Thinking of that, her face began to burn once again.”
“In three weeks my betrothed is coming here, to the castle. But Rose, I can’t marry her. I tried to believe that I could love her, and I’m sure I could have had I not met you. But knowing you, Rose, loving you as I do, I can’t possibly marry someone else. So I came up with a plan.”
“Rose clasped her hands and stared into his eyes, loving him, drinking in his love for her, for the last time.”
“A knot tightened around Wilhelm’s chest. So this is how jealousy feels.”
“Wilhelm let go. He turned to look at Rose. His heart seemed ready to leap out of his chest. Could it be? Rose? His Rose. It was too good to be true.”
“He slowly lowered his arms. The look on his face reached out and wrapped her in a warm embrace of love. He got to his feet and held out his hand. She closed the gap between them and buried her face in his chest. His arms enfolded her.”
“She wished she had not shrunk back when he reached out to her. At this moment his strong arms could be holding, warming, comforting her.”
“Anger bubbled up inside him so strong that he clenched his fist and silently promised his brother that he would pay for his boorish behavior.”
“Rose reached out and touched his fingers. He immediately covered her hand in a firm grasp. His warm fingers entwined with hers and made her heart beat erratically. The snake had nearly scared her to death, but his touch and his presence overwhelmed her with comfort and safety. The darkness gave her a feeling of intimacy with him. They could hold each other’s hand and no one could see. She liked it—so very much.”
“Instead of letting her go, he lifted her hand to his lips, his eyelids closing, and slowly kissed the backs of her fingers. She held her breath at the rush of pleasure his lips created as they brushed softly over her skin. A tiny sigh escaped her. I shouldn’t let him do this.”
“How he had wanted to forget who he was for one moment, forget his duty and everything else, to pull her into his arms and kiss her with every ounce of his passion.”
“It was a curious insight into Vorkosigan that he should so automatically accept her bare word as binding; he evidently thought along the same lines himself. The”
“I go where the lizards tell me.”
“Do go on doing a lot of walking and keep up your love of nature, for that is the right way to understand art better and better. Painters understand nature and love her and teach us to see. And there are painters who never do anything that is no good...”
“Returning his pen to its holder, he told us, 'I will have him gutted with that scythe. I will hang him by his own intestines.' At this piece of dramatic exposition, I could not hep but roll my eyes. A length of intestines would not carry the weight of a child, much less a full grown man.”
“Men of broader intellect know that there is no sharp distinction betwixt the real and the unreal; that all things appear as they do only by virtue of the delicate individual physical and mental media through which we are made”
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