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368 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2012
"What took you so long?" she accused. "You said it would only be a day and a night. Why didn't you come back?" With each word, her voice had risen and the shaking had grown worse.
"Why aren't you ever here when I need you?" She hit him again, apparently oblivious to the pain it must have brought to her injured hands. Tears were running down her face now, and her words were so garbled it was difficult for him to make them out. But the rage was unmistakable.
- p. 113
She saw the laughter in his black eyes. And the love. She knew what he wanted from her. But whenever she thought about what that entailed, the coil of fear lodged in her chest tightened a little bit more.
His expression softened. "I see your fear, eho'nehevehohtse. It hides behind your eyes when you look at me, and in your hands when you allow yourself to touch me. But I am not your enemy, heme'oono. You will think on that while I am gone." Reaching out, he gently brushed his fingertips across her jaw. "Nemehotatse, Prudence Lincoln."
"What does that mean? I don't understand what you're saying."
"Yes, eho'nehevehohtse. You know."
- pp. 210-211
"...Children, this is Lord Ashby."
Clasping his hands once more behind his back, Ash gave a curt, military nod.
"Lord?" The girl's eyes widened. "You're named after God?"
- p. 162
They spoke little. It was one of those highly charged female-type silences that eroded a man’s confidence and had him scanning through recent events to determine what he might have done wrong. Ash tolerated it as long as he could, then looked over at his wife. “It was the uniform, right?”
In the slanted light, her eyes were as brown and clear as the medicine bottles that had lined the windowsill beside his hospital bed. Filled with promises and hope. Addictive.
“That caught your eye.” When she still showed no understanding, he explained. “I can feel you drifting away, lass, and I’m seeking a way to draw you back. The ladies always seemed taken with the uniform. As once did you. Shall I send for it?”
“Drifting away? You can say that after what we—you and I—when we—after last night?” She clasped her gloved hands in her lap and looked away, her cheeks as red as strawberry ice in a paper cone.
“So it went well for you then, love? You dinna say, so I wasna sure. But with all the squealing and carrying on, I should have known.”
Her head whipped toward him. “I did not squeal or carry on.”
“No? Then it must have been me.”