Unclaimed

There is no such thing as a fallen woman--you just need to look for the man who pushed her.

You've always been your own knight, riding to your rescue. I'm just the man who came along and saw how brightly your armor shone.

What am I supposed to think, when you imagine me pure as the driven snow? I am not a child. If you strip me of the responsibility for my decisions, you strip me of the capacity to make them, as well. I am not a kitten, to be rescued from the jaws of a wolf. I'm a grown woman. And it is not your place to solve my problems without asking me for my opinion.

He'd wanted someone to see him. To see past his reputation...He wanted to be seen not as flawless, but as himself, faults and all.

A man must claim responsibility for his own temptation, and not pin it on the woman who arouses him. It’s a gown, Sir Mark. Not even one of my more daring ones.

You’re a duke’s brother. A knight. And I’m a whore.” He grabbed her wrist. “Don’t call yourself that. I wouldn’t let anyone else talk about you that way— why should I let you?” “Very well. Call me a fallen woman, then.” “Do you think that matters to me? My mother used to say that there was no such thing as a fallen woman. You just had to look for the man who pushed her down.

Let them say what they wish behind your back. You need only be strong enough that they don't say it to your face.

I adhere to the law of chastity because I don’t believe in pushing women. That’s what it means to be a man. I don’t hurt others simply to make myself feel superior. Gossip can ruin a woman as surely as unchaste behavior. True men don’t indulge in either. We don’t need to.

Do you think that an eyeful of breast and buttocks will have me so besotted that I will forget all my principles? I'm a virgin, Mrs Farleigh. Not an innocent. I've never been an innocent.

You see, I'm not some shiny bauble to be strung onto a necklace and displayed for all the world to see. I'm too proud to ever be anyone's conquest.

For years, every conversation she had with a man had been colored by calculation. Would she put him off is she spoke her mind? What did he want her to say? When a man took a mistress, he purchased not just the rights to her body, but the content of her thoughts. Sir Mark wanted her as she was, not as he wished her to be. The thought made her head hurt.

When someone falls,” Mark said, “you don’t throw her back down in the dirt. You offer her a hand up. It’s the Christian thing to do.

I hated you,” she continued, “because you have done nothing more than abide by rules that every gentlewoman follows every day of her life. Yet for this prosaic feat, you are feted and cosseted as if you were a hero.” She felt nothing as she spoke, but still her voice shook. Her hands were trembling, too. “I hate that if a woman missteps once, she is condemned forever, and yet the men who follow you can tie a simple ribbon to their hats after years of debauchery, and pass themselves off as upright pillars of society.

Mrs Farleigh," he called. She stopped and gave him her shoulder, not quite meeting his eyes. Still wary, and that made him angrier yet. "I want you to trounce me." Her head snapped up. "Pardon?" "It is down to you and me. We are battling it out, to see who will be king of the indifferent shots in this competition. Only one of us will prevail.I shall shoot to win." He really was angry, he realized - furious to imagine her spending her autumns deliberately hiding what she could do, hiding the extent of her ability from the man who should treasure it. It was as if she'd left a vast swath of her ability unclaimed, hidden behind a swirl of feminine smiles. He didn't like the idea. He didn't like it at all.

Sir Mark Turner," he said. "I speak with the tongues of a thousand angels. Butterflies follow me wherever I go. Birds sing when I take a breath.

Men touch their horses to calm them,” she said distantly. “They caress their falcons to remind them that they are bound. Touch smacks of ownership, and I am weary of being a possession.

Jessica," he said gravely. "I will be your champion,if you let me. If I have to take on the role of knight, I want to be yours. Let me be your protector.

One mustn’t justify day-to-day morality with extraordinary circumstances. Otherwise, we would all feel free to rape and murder at the drop of a cat.

What would one do if one were forced to choose between saving an innocent child’s life or engaging in unchaste behavior? This is, after all, the choice that some unfortunate women are put to—sell their bodies, or see their children starve.

Jess again. Mark had called her Jessica. As if she were a full person, not a truncated portion of one.

Hers. Hers. She belonged to herself again, body and soul, pleasure and heartbreak. She was every inch hers again, her body reclaimed from those long years of bitter ownership. She was hers.

Those are the two most ineffectual words ever put together by man—don’t worry. I can’t stop worrying just because someone assures me it’s unnecessary.

Farleigh. I fear that I’d break something irreplaceable.” She swallowed. “Sir Mark.” He reached out one hand again, almost to her face,