It was just a book. An inanimate object. The only power it held was what she chose to give it. It could only be important in her life if she made it such.
Of course, that didn't explain why she half expected it to glow in the dark every time she peered into her satchel.
Good manners forced her to say, somewhat grudgingly, "Your boots are very nice."
He grinned and regarded his footwear, which, though old, appeared very well-made. "Yes, they are, aren't they?"
"If a bit scuffed," she added.
"I shall polish them tomorrow," he promised, his somewhat superior look telling her that he refused to rise to her bait.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "That was uncalled for. Compliments should be freely given, without restrictions or qualifications.
Tags: compliments
Do you know what I like about you, Elizabeth?"
She couldn't even possibly imagine.
"You're as kind and good a person as they come," he continued, "but unlike most kind and good people, you don't preach or cloy, or try to make everyone else kind and good ... And underneath all that kindness and goodness, you seem to possess a wicked sense of humor, no matter how hard you occasionally try to suppress it.
But you won't say no."
She hated that his confidence was not misplaced, hated that she could refuse him nothing when he held her in his arms. But she loved the crackling awareness that washed over her - a strange sense that for the first time in her life, she understood her own body.
you seemed far too familiar with violence. It was too easy for you. The way you drew your gun ... You'd had far too much experience with it."
He leaned forward, his eyes burning into hers. "What I felt in that moment was far from familiar. It was rage, Elizabeth, pure and primitive, and quite unlike anything that's ever before coursed through my veins.
For the love of God, woman, there's only one rule in that bloody book worth following.'
'And that is?' Elizabeth asked disdainfully.
'That you marry your damned marquis!
Am I not allowed to have my pride? Or is that an emotion reserved for the elite?
Julia QuinnWe cannot accept this sort of money from a stranger.'
'Maybe it's not a stranger,' Susan said.
'Then that's even worse!' Elizabeth retorted. 'My God, can you imagine? Some horrid person treating us like puppets, pulling our strings, thinking he can control our destiny?
A man only got one shot at declaring himself to his true love; he didn't want to muck it up completely.
Julia QuinnHe looked down at the first entry.
2 MARCH1810
Today I fell in love.
A tear welled up in his eye. “Me too, my love. Me too.
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