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387 pages, Kindle Edition
First published February 26, 2019



“Delilah . . .” he said softly, suddenly. And her name almost sounded like a song.
“I think that the reason the world contains people like you and people like me is so that I can keep you safe should your kindness land on people who do not deserve it."
“The pillow was fluffy and the fire most warm.”
“I’ve little use for fires that aren’t warm, myself,” Tristan said.
He allowed her space in which to be herself. He did not assume that what she had to say could possibly have no merit, because she was a woman.
“I love you because here you are standing patiently, and you are waiting for me to speak because you want to hear what I have to say because what I say and think matters to you. Because you have a tender heart, whether you know it or not, and a magnificently tough hide. Because your soul is fathoms deep and you speak in poetry and you don’t even know it."













Tristan was thirty-six years old. He sometimes felt he’d lived a thousand years and a thousand lives. If one started out life in St. Giles, you either grew old quickly or didn’t grow old at all.
Even now it seemed as though it would be easier to lasso the moon and pull it down from the sky than to do that. But if she wanted the moon, he would certainly try to get it for her.
“I will bear the loss of you, Delilah, as I have borne other things. I will bear the fact that you don’t love me. But just as we are only born once and only die once, I know I will only love once. And if life is ever unkind to you, I want you to remember that you are loved, and maybe take some comfort from that, even if we are oceans apart. I know that you never again want to be at the mercy of any man. Know that I am at your mercy, now and forever.”



