Nursemaid, you mean? Someone who can sing me to sleep at bedtime, spoon
porridge into my mouth, and wipe my”—he hesitated just long enough to make both servants cringe with
dread—“chinif I dribble?”
“I haven’t the voice for lullabies and I’m sure you’re perfectly capable of wiping your own…chin,
Do you know what the best thing about getting my sight back will be?” he asked softly.
“No,” she replied, all of the bravado gone from her voice.
Straightening, he took one step toward her, then another. She refused to give ground until he was almost
on top of her. Feeling the air shift as she retreated, he clumsily flanked her until their positions were
reversed and she was the one backing toward the door. “Some might believe it would be the joy of
watching the sun dip below a lavender horizon at the end of a perfect summer day.”
When he heard her back come up against the door, he splayed one palm against the thick mahogany
behind her. “Others might judge it to be perusing the velvety petals of a ruby red rose…”—leaning
forward until he felt the warm tickle of her breath against his face, he deepened his voice to a smoky
caress—“or gazing tenderly into the eyes of a beautiful woman. But I can promise you, Miss Wickersham, that all of those pleasures will pale in comparison to the sheer unmitigated joy of being rid
of you.
You removed my spectacles!”
A disbelieving snort of laughter escaped him. “The way you’re taking on, you’d have thought I removed
your clothing!”
Samantha clutched at the high-necked bodice of her homely bottle-green day dress. “How do I know
you didn’t?”
Silence hung between them, thicker than the heated air. Then his smoky voice dipped into low and
dangerous territory. “If I had removed your clothing, Miss Wickersham, I can assure you it would have
been worth waking up for.
I wanted to prove myself worthy of the girl I loved. I wanted to be able to return and lay not only my heart, but the world, at her feet.
Teresa MedeirosTags: ash clarinda the-pleasure-of-your-kiss
They were old, their covers cracked and their bindings frayed, but as far as Gwendolyn was concerned that only made the words cocooned between their musty pages more precious.
Teresa MedeirosTags: books
Don’t be silly. People never stop looking for love.
Yeah, some of them don’t even stop AFTER they’ve found it.
I prefer to think of myself as a devout Narcissist.
What does that mean?
If the sun is shining, I thank God. If it rains, I blame him.
You care enough to play hard to get.
Teresa MedeirosOdd Thing to Read After an Autopsy: “He was in much better health than we expected.” Well, yeah … except for the DEAD part.
Teresa MedeirosShe had fooled herself into believing she was living the life she’d always dreamed of living when all she had been doing was hiding from it.
Teresa Medeiros« first previous
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