He’d thought it would be the right thing to say, but she scoffed a little… and that, more than anything—more than the prospect of having his ribs crushed in or his face pulled off or his neck stretched on a rope—scared him out of his wits.
V.S. CarnesTags: war romance bitterness defeat ransom
In a land that knew only dark beauty, she was something of a hybrid no one dared touch. But the tall Arab did not appear in the least daunted by her abnormality. No, she saw his eyes. He was not daunted in the least.
V.S. CarnesLa mu’axsa, but I think I’ll just keep sliding down this greased pole to hell?
V.S. CarnesShe thought she loved him. She was crazy.
V.S. CarnesTherefore, she hummed the provincial lullaby she had learned from the officers’ children in the English Quarter of Jerusalem, and watched in fascination while the savage radical’s eyes misted over with tears. For an instant, the prison bars melted away, and she felt God’s presence—for the first time since their imprisonment. She was not a captive, and this man was not her captor. Indeed, they were both merely God’s children.
V.S. CarnesTags: god hope christian unity lullaby
Somehow, I did not finger you for a treasure-hunter.”
“Oh, but I am,” without shame. “Her name is Titianni Aziz.
No fairy tale, this. This was by no stretch of the imagination a polished fantasy. This was a searing, living force, rough around the edges, unfamiliar and bittersweet.
And precious.
I will not marry Ashton. However bound by honor to do so, I will not marry Ashton. I will not marry, ever!”
“Why not?”
“Because I love you, you idiot!
The blood dried on his good hand, he passed his palm over her hair. It curled about his wrist and sprung back into displace as the breeze fluttered by. In the firelight, it was golden like the dandelions of which she’d spoken. The ones that had grown along the Franklin riverbank in late summer. The ones he had lost any faith in since he’d committed his first murder there.
V.S. CarnesTags: love murder romance mystery dandelions
My name, sir, is Virgilia Wessex. I am a Sunday school teacher from Sussex, England, and I have given you no leave to address me as anything.”
His mouth seemed to almost smile, but if so, he caught it just on the brink and decided against it. “Well, I’ve just given the gent who found you first an obscene amount of money to address you however I please… Gillia.
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