The world wept a silent, windless downpour, a befitting accompaniment to the arrival of death.
However, Lady Brenna Hilliard, only daughter of the late Earl Lundsford, had yet to join in the weeping. Shock and disbelief kept her from the comfort of tears. The torrent would come, she knew, in a wave of sudden grief, but for now her emotions were elusive, too numb to be felt.
Mots clés cynthia-wicklund lord-of-always
As always, when she needed God most, He chose to ignore her.
Cynthia WicklundMots clés brenna cynthia-wicklund lord-of-always
For long moments they clung to one another, only their heavy breathing filling the quiet. Gradually the mist cleared from Brenna’s sight, and she gazed into the summer-sky blue of her husband’s eyes. Eternity stared back at her. There was no world beyond their world, no time that did not belong to them
Cynthia WicklundMots clés evan brenna cynthia-wicklund lord-of-always
Her husband leaned forward on the bed, hands balled into fists. “There’s something you must understand, Brenna. I feel your emotions. I sense when you are upset. Don’t ask me why, I haven’t a clue. But your distress woke me. I’ve been sitting there,” he waved at the chair, “for more than three hours waiting for you to stir.
Did she sense his emotions also? She thought maybe she did.
Mots clés evan cynthia-wicklund lord-of-always
Hope is a bewitching emotion... leading one on with outrageous promises of
better things to come. (Adam Ashworth)
Love cannot stifle nor can it dictate. Either of those circumstances will turn a tender feeling into something ugly (Adam Ashworth).
Cynthia WicklundMots clés love-and-hate
It’s very difficult sometimes to put into words one’s feelings, especially when one
is not quite certain what those feelings are. (Catherine)
Mots clés emotions
...being in love. It was not an emotion that could be willed away when it became too arduous to bear. It clung tight with the tenacity of a stubborn clam, forcing its victim to face the pain (Adam Ashworth).
Cynthia WicklundMots clés love
A jolt of rage now forced him into her face, their noses almost touching. At once she was the one pulling back.
“Is this yours and Fricker’s little game, Geline? To what purpose? Why not keep to the truth? It’s disgusting enough.” His voice was ragged with fury. “Why make up lies when it’s so unnecessary? I was a gambler, a prodigious drinker. I whored my way through most of London’s lower echelons. I am profoundly fortunate not to be riddled with disease.”
Her mouth crimped with distaste.
“Yes, indeed. Don’t want to mention that, do we? There’s a price to be paid for treating this vessel,” he tapped his chest, “without respect. As to that, we’ve both been fortunate.
Mots clés evan evangeline cynthia-wicklund lord-of-always
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