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“You’re too familiar, Mr. Ransom.” His smile lingered. “Ah, but that’s the price of it, if you want to hear an Irish brogue. You’ll have to put up with a bit o’ sweetheartin’.”
“Don’t mistake softness for weakness. Only a strong man can be soft with a woman.”
Tonight he’d behaved like a besotted lunatic, flirting and lusting after Garrett Gibson. Running to her like a well-trained sheepdog as soon as she’d whistled. Accompanying her out in public, and watching pyrotechnics with his hands wandering all over her. He’d lost his bloody mind, taking such chances. But how could any man keep his wits around such a woman? Garrett had bewitched him like a love charm on a May-morning. She was at once respectable and subversive, worldly and innocent. Hearing her say “involuntary erection” in that crisp, ladylike voice had been the high point of his year.
“Kiss me,” she commanded, “or I’ll break your nose.”
Garrett!
A humbling thought occurred to her. When you meet the right man, the list of things you would never do suddenly becomes much shorter.
“The first moment I saw you, I knew you were my share of the world. I’ve always loved you. If I could choose my fate, I’d never be parted from you. Acushla . . . pulse of my heart, breath of my soul . . . there’s nothing on this earth more fair and fine than you. Your shadow on the ground is sunlight to me.”
Show me a passage of a romance that’s better than this.
She wanted to throw herself on him and howl in despair. I’m not strong enough for this, she thought. I can’t bear it. God, please don’t let this happen . . . please . . . But as she looked down at Ethan’s ashen face, a mantle of calm determination settled over the blaze of anguish. She would not lose him.
