“In every life there is a turning point. A moment so tremendous, so sharp and clear that one feels as if one's been hit in the chest, all the breath knocked out, and one knows, absolutely knows without the merest hint of a shadow of a doubt that one's life will never be the same.”
“Oh, God, Francesca,Now there’s a good one.Why?Why? Why?” He gave each one a different tenor, as if he were testing out the word, asking it to
different people.
“Why?” he asked again, this time with increased volume
as he turned around to face her.
“Why? It’s
because I love you, damn me to hell. Because I’ve always loved you. Because I loved you when you
were with John, and I loved you when I was in India, and God only knows I don’t deserve you, but I
love you, anyway.”
Francesca sagged against the door.
“How’s that for a witty little joke?” he mocked. “I loveyou. I loveyou, my cousin’s wife. I loveyou, the
one woman I can never have. I loveyou, Francesca Bridger-ton Stirling.”
“Francesca: It's still a bit cold yet.
Michael: Never stopped John and me.
Francesca: Yes, well, you're Scottish. Your blood circulates quite well half frozen.”
“It was the one dream he'd never permitted himself to consider.”
“Why? It’s because I love you, damn me to hell. Because I’ve always loved you. Because I loved you when you were with John, and I loved you when I was in India, and God only knows I don’t deserve you, but I love you, anyway.”
“This thing between them, this bond—it wasn’t just passion,
and it wasn’t wicked.
It was love, and it was divine.”
“No man of any intelligence would pretend to know a female mind.”
“Did you wonder?” he whispered. “Did you leave me and wonder what I hadn’t told you?” He leaned in, just so she’d feel his lips move whisper-light against her ear.
“Did you want to know what I did when I was wicked? Do you want me to tell you?” he murmured. He felt her jerk slightly in surprise, and he chuckled. “Not about them, Francesca. You. Only you.”
-Michael Stirling”
“Michael nodded tersely, eyeing a table across the room. It was empty. So empty. So joyfully, blessedly empty.
He could picture himself a very happy man at that table.
"Not feeling very conversational this evening, are we?" Colin asked, breaking into his (admittedly tame) fantasies.”
“And I hope you will not think me foolish when I also extend my thanks.
Thank you, Michael, for letting my son love her first.
—from Janet Stirling, dowager Countess of Kilmartin, to Michael Stirling, Earl of Kilmartin”
“Thou Shalt Not Covet Thy Cousin‟s Wife.
Moses must have forgotten to write that one down”
“There were only so many ways a man‟s heart could break, and he had a feeling his couldn‟t survive another puncture.”
“I'm not a gentle pony... I promise you, you will have to work to keep your seat.”
“It was one of those things that had to be experienced to be understood”
“Well, for one thing, about whether you’ll make a good husband,” she snapped back, finally goaded into anger.
He drew back. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Your past behavior, to start with,” she replied, narrowing her eyes. “You haven’t exactly been the
model of Christian rectitude.”
“This, coming from the woman who ordered me to strip off my clothing earlier this afternoon?” he
taunted.
“Don’t be ugly,” she said in a low voice.
“Don’t push my temper.”
-Michael Fielding and Francesca Bridgerton”
“I think you're going to break more hearts this spring than I'll be able to count."
"It isn't your job to count them," he said, his voice quiet and hard.
"No, it isn't, is it?" She looked over at him and smile wryly. "But I'm going to end up doing it all the same, won't I?"
"And why is that?"
She didn't seem to have an answer to that, and then, just when he was sure she would say no more, she whispered, "Because I won't be able to stop myself.”
“There were a lot of things in life to be afraid of, but strangeness ought not be among them.”
“And what renders him so unmarriageable?” Eloise asked.
Francesca leveled a serious stare at her older sister. Eloise was mad if she thought she should set her cap for Michael.
“Well?” Eloise prodded.
“He could never remain faithful to one woman,” Francesca said, “and I doubt you’d be willing to put up with infidelities.”
“No,” Eloise murmured, “not unless he’d be willing to put up with severe bodily injury.”
“Stirlings of old had been so damned besotted with their newfound earldom that they couldn't think to put any other name on anything...It was a wonder he didn't drink Kilmartin Tea and sit on a Kilmartin-style chair. In fact, he probably would be doing just that if his grandmother had found a way to manage it without actually taking the family into trade. ”
“And she never knew that he laid awake the whole time, his lips at her temple, his hand against her hair.
Whispering her name.
Whispering other words as well.”
“He’d tried so hard to convince himself that it didn’t matter if she loved him, that having her as his wife was enough. But now…
Now that she’d said it, now that he knew, now that his heart had soared, he knew better.
This was heaven.
This was bliss.
This was something he’d never dared hope to feel, something he never could have dreamed existed.
This was love. --(Michael)”
“I‟m going to kill her,” Francesca said to no one in particular. Which was probably a good thing, as there was no one else present.
“Who are you talking to?” Hyacinth demanded.
“God,” Francesca said baldly. “And I do believe I have been given divine leave to murder you.”
“Hmmph,” was Hyacinth‟s response. “If it was that easy, I‟d have asked permission to eliminate half the ton years ago.”
Francesca decided just then that not all of Hyacinth‟s statements required a rejoinder. In fact, few of them did.”
“Eloiseis getting married as well.”
“Eloise?” Michael asked with some surprise. “Was she even being courted by anyone?”
“No,” Francesca said, quickly flipping to the third sheet of her mother‟s letter. “It‟s someone she‟s never met.”
“Well, I imagine she‟s met him now,” Michael said in a dry voice.”
“You do realize, Kilmartin,' Colin said, his voice so soft it was almost chilling, 'that there is no reason you can't marry her. None at all. Except, of course,' he added, almost as an afterthought, 'the reasons you manufacture for yourself.”
“I have to go out,” she said, her words oddly curt and abrupt. “There‟s something I need to do.”
“At half eight in the morning?”
“I‟ll be back soon,” she said, hurrying toward the door. “Don‟t go anywhere.”
“Well, damn,” he tried to joke, “there go my plans to visit the King.”
“A lot of women want children.”
“Right,” he said, coughing on the word. “Of course. But… don‟t you think you might want a husband first?”
“Of course.”
“Francesca actually felt her chin drop. “Mother,” she said, shaking her head, “you really should have stopped at seven.”
“Children, you mean?” Violet asked, sipping at her tea. “Sometimes I do wonder.”
“Mother!” Hyacinth exclaimed.
Violet just smiled at her. “Salt?”
“It took her eight tries to get it right,” Hyacinth announced, thrusting the salt cellar at her mother with a decided lack of grace.
“And does that mean that you, too, hope to have eight children?” Violet inquired sweetly.
“God no,” Hyacinth said. With great feeling. And neither she nor Francesca could quite resist a chuckle after that.”
“I hope you know that I am listening, should you ever change your mind.”
“Michael wondered what the legal ramifications were for strangling a knight of the realm. Surely nothing he couldn‟t live with.”
“We can all make powerful choices. We can all take back control by not blaming chance, fate, or anyone else for our outcomes. It’s within our ability to cause everything to change. Rather than letting past hurtful experiences sap our energy and sabotage our success, we can use them to fuel positive, constructive change.”
“I want you to listen to me you seem to be under the misconception that there is something wrong with you, that there is nothing special about you. There is nobody else in the whole world that I would rather be with. I could look at you for hours an never get sick of it. I could spend ever second of everday in your presence and I would die a happy man. You belong with me.”
“The positive testimony of history is that the State invariably had its origin in conquest and confiscation. No primitive State known to history originated in any other manner.”
“Well, good night," he said cheerfully. "Thanks for dinner."
"Oh. Right." I took a half step back toward the house. "You're welcome."
"Ella."
"Yeah?"
"You've gotta be kidding."
PECo hadn't some yet, so it was pretty dark where we were standing. I don't know how his hand found mine so fast, but one second I was thinking about how much I didn't want to say good night, and the next I was up against his chest, standing on my toes with my feet between his.
"Is this okay?" he asked, his breath chocolaty and warm against my forehead.
"Yeah," I answered, my own breath coming in quick little jumps. "Yeah."
"Good.I have something I have to tell you."
I waited.
"I hate that Klimt painting," he said. "I really hate it."
Then he was folding me into his coat and his face was right above mine, and there was only one kiss that mattered.”
“When hands of hate turn dark and tragic, Virtue makes for more than magic. Ever since the world was new, They rise, always, a worthy few. When tyrants fill the land with death, And innocents draw in final breath, Warriors noble step from shadow, With powers hidden, end the battle, Committed to win, to do what they must, Defending good hope against the unjust: In spite of danger, doom, and doubt, Before these few, darkness burns out. This timeless history is beget To show how light with darkness met: Their legacy may not be seen, But we recall wits and weapons keen That warriors sharpen and apply, By courage and talent live and die. And so hope we have, in darkest night: The good find a way, and a means, and light.”
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