“She let him know how much she liked what he was doing by scoring his back with her nails and crying out with pleasure.
"Oh, God."
"Nay, lass. Connor.”
“I know the truth now. You've figured out I'm falling in love with you and you're trying to make me stop by hurting me this way. Well it won't work.
One way or another, I'm going to make you care about me. Yes, I am, unless your cold attitude kills me first.
It's only fair, Connor. If I'm going to be miserable, by God, so are you.
I am not a common wench and I will not be treated like one.”
“Your trying to take them away from me, and I can't let you do that.I'm not ready to let go."
"Exactly what am I taking away?"
"My family."
"Brenna..."
She wouldn't let him continue. "You are trying to take them away, aren't you? And if you succeed, what will I have left?"
"Me.”
“She surprised him by agreeing. "Yes, I was simply curious, and no, I would never criticize you in front of your followers. Do you have the patience to endure one more question, husband?"
"What is it?"
"When do you suppose you'll leave me behind?”
“He held her gaze steady while he summarized her promises. “She will honor me, protect me, obey me only when she believes I’m being reasonable—but I shouldn’t hold out hope that that day will ever come—try to love me before she’s an old woman, and I’d better get it straight in my mind that she will respect me until or unless I do something to prove I’m not worthy, and God save me then. Have I left anything out, Brenna?”
“What did you say to the messenger, mi'lady? Do you remember the exact words of your last proposal?"
She recognized Quinlan's voice behind her.
How in thunder could she possibly remember? Hadn't any of them been listening?
She couldn't turn to face Quinlan because their leader still had hold of her, and he didn't seem to be the
least bit inclined to let go.
"I probably said, 'Will you marry me?'"
Connor smiled. He pulled her toward him, lowered his head, and kissed her just
long enough to stun her.
He lifted his head then, looked into her eyes, and finally spoke to her.
"Yes, Brenna. I will marry you.”
“She'd been told time and again that it was rude stare, but she didn't obey her mother's rule now. The giant mesmerized her and she wanted to remember everything she could about him.
He must have felt her staring at him, though because he suddenly turned and looked directly her.
Brenna decided to make her papa proud of her and behave like a proper young lady. She grabbed a fistful of her skirt, hiked it up to her knees, and bent down to curtsy. She promptly lost her balance and almost hit her head against the floor, but she was quick enough to lean back so she could land on her
bottom.
She stood back up, remembered to let go of her skirts, and peeked up at the stranger to see what he thought about her newly acquired skill.
The giant smiled at her.
As soon as he looked away, she squeezed herself up against Rachel's backside again.
"I'm going to marry him," she whispered.”
“Brenna jumped to her feet the second Father Sinclair entered the chamber. "I'm so happy to see you," she cried out.
"Be happy sitting down," Jamie ordered, hovering over her patient like a mother hen.”
“Warriors do not speak of such feelings. I love you too, son, but I won't be telling you so.”
“Still, they were two thorns from the same thistle. Their tactics in terrorizing innocent ladies were identical. Their behavior was downright sinful, but what made it even worse was the fact that neither warrior seemed to realize the effect he had on others.”
“But, the giant wasn’t a god or a demon. He was just a man, very primitive and frightening, yet still just a man. Besides, anyone with a pinch of sense knew women were smarter than men.”
“People said the towers looked like giant salt and pepper shakers, but I’d always thought they looked like Daleks from Doctor Who.”
“It's a McLaren SLR 722 Roadster."
"How big is it?"
"It's a convertible."
"Will a tiger fit?"
"No. It seats only two, but the boys are man half the day now."
"Is it more than $30,000?"
He squirmed and hedged, "Yes, but-"
"How much more?"
"Much more."
"How much more?"
"About $400,000 more."
My mouth dropped open. "Mr. Kadam!"
"Miss Kelsey, I know it's extravagant, but when you drive it, you will see it's worth every cent."
I folded my hands across my chest. "I won't drive it."
He looked offended. "That car was meant to be driven."
"Then you drive it. I'll drive the Jeep."
He looked tempted. "If it will appease you, perhaps we can share it."
Kishan clapped his hands. "I can't wait."
Mr. Kadam wagged a finger at him. "Oh, no! Not you. We'll get you a nice sedan. Used.”
“Set flush in the wall behind the desk was a steel door. It was knobless, and along one edge were three brass keyholes spaced a few inches apart. Rube brought out a key ring, selected a key, then walked around the desk, inserted the key in the topmost lock, and turned it. From his watch pocket he took a single key, pushed it into the middle keyhole, and turned. The guard stood waiting beside him, and now the guard inserted a key in the bottom keyhole, turned it and pulled the door open with the key. Rube removed his two keys and gestured me in through the open door before him. He followed, and the door swung solidly shut behind us. I heard the multiple click of the locks engaging, and we were standing in a space hardly larger than a big closet, dimly lighted by an overhead bulb in a wire cage. Then I saw that we were at the top of a circular metal staircase.”
“[Writing about themselves] gives them wings, so that they can rise above the confounding maze of their lives and, from that perspective, begin to see the patterns and dead ends of their pasts, and a way out. That's the funny thing about mazes; what's baffling on the ground begins to make sense when you can begin to rise above it, the better to understand your history and fix yourself.”
“A novel is always more complicated than it seems at the beginning. Indeed a novel should be more complicated than it seems at the beginning.”
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