A Grave Robbery (Veronica Speedwell, #9)

by Deanna Raybourn

“I have known you in every possible way a man can know a woman. I understand you better than you will ever admit because one cannot fully love what one does not fully comprehend, and believe me when I say I love you entirely and comprehend you completely.

“Veronica, I mean that I have, at last, come to understand my role. It is not to discourage your exuberance or your audacity. How could I want to when those are the very qualities I admire most? If I have lectured or harangued in the past, it is because I am afraid. Every moment of every day, I am afraid.” “Afraid of what?” I demanded. “Of losing that which I have come to realise I cannot live without. But I do not want a small and stifled version of you. I want you—in all your intrepid and audacious glory. I want you just as you are, the entirety of your chaos and your wildness. You are the whirlwind I did not know I needed, but now that you are here, I will not be the one to ask you to be anything different than exactly as you are. More than anyone, I ought to understand that nature cannot be denied. And your nature is tumult.”