The Rose of Winslow Street Quotes

“How curious that sometimes objects became more beautiful as they weathered the storms and traumas of the world. What caused some wood to rot and decay into nothing, while other pieces of wood became burnished, splendid, and tougher under the relentless assault of the pounding ocean current?”
― Elizabeth Camden, The Rose of Winslow Street

“He grasped her chin, tilted her face toward him, and kissed her deeply. She was wearing no perfume today, but her skin carried a faint scent that reminded him of apples. It could be because they had been living in an apple orchard, but Michael knew it was simply the way her skin naturally smelled. When he withdrew, he smiled at the attractive flush that darkened her cheeks and made her eyes sparkle. “If you had looked at me like that the first time I saw you,” he murmured, “I would have flung you over my shoulder and carried you off to the nearest church. No man can have a woman look at him like that and not want to marry her.”
― Elizabeth Camden, The Rose of Winslow Street

“If her artist's eye had given her nothing else, it taught her to see beauty where few others noticed it.”
― Elizabeth Camden, The Rose of Winslow Street

“The man looked like Hercules, but all it took to make him positively giddy was to began discussing perfume.”
― Elizabeth Camden, The Rose of Winslow Street

“There was a rustling of fabric as he turned on his side, resting his head in his crooked arm. How oddly intimate it felt to be lying beside him like this, but his eyes were gentle as he rested his hand across her stomach. It was so big it nearly covered her entire middle. “I hope someday we have a daughter who has your kindness.” Yes, a daughter. A smile curved her lips as she tried to imagine how Michael would pamper and fuss over a little girl. Or would he roughhouse with a daughter as he did with his boys? It was hard to predict, but no matter what, she knew Michael would be an amazing father. And she knew she would gladly follow him to the ends of the earth, for God had blessed her with the priceless gift of a family.”
― Elizabeth Camden, The Rose of Winslow Street

“I would like to share my life with you,” he said. “I would like to marry you and have children with you. I would like you to help teach my boys to become fine young men. I want to walk through the woods with you and fall asleep with you beside the light of a fire.”
― Elizabeth Camden, The Rose of Winslow Street

“His hands were the first thing she saw. Callused and blunt, they grasped the sides of the ladder as he raised himself the final few rungs. He was grinning by the time he cleared the base of the roof. “Hello, Liberty Sawyer,” he said casually. She nodded in his direction, mimicking his nonchalant air. “Michael.” He was about to step onto the roof when he paused to sniff the air. The expression on his face was sheer masculine satisfaction. “You are wearing my perfume.” “Every day.” His grin deepened. “Good.” For a big man, he was surprisingly graceful as he stepped onto the roof. With an agile twist he turned and sat beside her. “I have traveled nine hundred miles to see that smile again. It was worth every step.”
― Elizabeth Camden, The Rose of Winslow Street

“When she looked back at Michael, he was staring up at her with murder in his eyes. “Get down from there!” he roared. He pulled the brake on the wagon and sprang to the ground, stalking across the yard like a barbarian on the march. Even from three stories up she could hear him muttering in Romanian, and whatever he was saying did not sound complimentary. He stood in the middle of the yard and yelled up at her. “Why can’t you be a normal woman and keep your feet on the ground? I have traveled nine hundred miles to get back to you, and look! Trousers!”
― Elizabeth Camden, The Rose of Winslow Street

“My memories from our summer together are like gold to me. My perfume is only a pale imitation of what I think of you, for you are God’s creation, perfectly and beautifully made.”
― Elizabeth Camden, The Rose of Winslow Street

“Libby, I cannot make you promises that I will be able to afford to live in this town. After this afternoon, I have almost nothing left to my name, and I must find a way to provide for my family. The only thing I know for certain is that I can never permit my children to live under the same roof as your father. If you wish to live with me, you must leave your father’s house. When I return, I hope you will be able to make that decision.” When she tried to look away from him, he cupped her face in his hands. “I understand your loyalty to your father will not permit you to come with us now, but you will be in my heart with every mile of the journey. I studied the map and believe I can return in a month, perhaps a little less. It is hard to know how travel over the mountains will go. Were it possible, I would send you letters every day that would spell out exactly my feelings for you, but I don’t think your father would welcome reading such letters to you.” Her voice was hesitant and he had to lean closer to hear. “You could send them to Mr. Auckland,” she said, and his heart soared at the words. He could barely speak because his grin was so wide. “You would welcome my letters then?” She glanced up at him. He could not be certain because the light was so dim, but it looked as if her cheeks were suffused with the most stunning blush he had ever seen on a woman. “Yes,” she said. “I would welcome your letters.”
― Elizabeth Camden, The Rose of Winslow Street

“It is not good for two people who have made a commitment to each other to be away from each other so long. I know this from the months and years I spent away from Marie. Already my soul longs to join itself with yours, but I fear this may never happen if I walk away from you at this point. Come with us to Kentucky. Please.” “I can’t go with you,” she said in an aching voice. He did not miss the way she turned her shoulders away from his and she looked around the familiar surroundings of the street. “Can’t go, or do not wish to go?” The distinction was suddenly very important to him. She glanced back at the house. “I am afraid that if I leave, I might never come back,” she said.”
― Elizabeth Camden, The Rose of Winslow Street

“If we were to get married immediately,” he said, “would you consider coming with us?” It seemed the perfect solution to Michael, but Libby appeared stunned by the suggestion. “I can’t . . .”
― Elizabeth Camden, The Rose of Winslow Street

“Before she could leave, Michael stepped in front of her. “I will come see you tonight,” he said. “Watch for me outside your window and meet me when you can. Your father need not know of my presence.” She bit her lip. If Michael was going to leave Colden, it would be easier to walk away now, where it would be impossible to break down and beg or cry in front of so many witnesses. She could not be certain she would be so stoic otherwise. She pushed toward the door, but Michael blocked her exit. “Promise me you will meet me tonight,” he said with a low note of urgency. “I love you and can’t let this come between us. Not now, when we are about to be separated.”
― Elizabeth Camden, The Rose of Winslow Street

“He guided Libby to the bench, sat down, then tugged her forward to sit across his lap. “Michael!” she gasped. “Hush. No one can see us.” He liked the feel of her on his lap, but she swallowed and glanced about. “It’s unseemly,” she said in a halfhearted protest. That didn’t stop her from draping her arms around his shoulders. He bounced his knee, bumping her into the air and settling her more comfortably onto his lap. “It is a bit, isn’t it?” He set his hands on her hips and liked everything about the way she fit against his body. “Come,” he urged. “Tell me why you are still upset.”
― Elizabeth Camden, The Rose of Winslow Street

“I am truly an idiot. I should have bargained with a marriage proposal before freeing you.” She leaned her forehead against the rung of the ladder, still shaking too much to trust herself. “No g-gentleman would push a lady in such circumstances,” she said through chattering teeth. “I am not a gentleman. I am a warrior, and we use whatever advantage we can get.” He gave her an affectionate slap on her rump. “What of it, Libby? I think you owe me a little something after this.”
― Elizabeth Camden, The Rose of Winslow Street

“Ignoring her snit, Michael reached over to clasp her hand, holding it possessively. She spoke no words, but returned his squeeze. Perhaps this cloudless, perfect afternoon would be their last day together as allies. The house on Winslow Street was becoming a curse, and she could see no way forward for them. She leaned against his side, and he responded by lowering his cheek to rest against the top of her head.”
― Elizabeth Camden, The Rose of Winslow Street

“You must make a choice, Libby. I can make you no promises of a fine house or an easy life. I can only pledge that as my wife you will never doubt that I love you and that I will protect you with the last ounce of my strength.”
― Elizabeth Camden, The Rose of Winslow Street

“I see,” she whispered. She withdrew her hand, but Michael snatched it back just as quickly. “I still want to marry you,” he insisted. “I love you and will marry you even though there is no house attached to you.” He tilted her chin so she was forced to look at him. Tiny crinkles fanned out from his troubled blue eyes, and never had she seen such concern in a man’s face. “Do you believe me, Libby?”
― Elizabeth Camden, The Rose of Winslow Street

“He slowly crossed the barn to squat down in front of her, never once looking away. His callused palm was warm around her icy fingers. “You must never lie to me,” he said softly. “Whatever your story, be it good or bad, I will accept. I am not your father, who will storm and rage at you when disappointed.” And the warmth in his eyes made her believe every word he spoke was true. “You are perfectly and beautifully made,” Michael continued. “You are exactly as God intended for you to be, and I love you precisely as you are.”
― Elizabeth Camden, The Rose of Winslow Street

“You sought out a mercenary soldier from Turkey for advice on courting an American woman?” “It was either Turk or Joseph, and Turk has a way with women. In Europe, they practically fling themselves at him. It is very amusing to watch.” He dragged a hand through his hair in frustration and sent her a sheepish grin that normally would have made her weak in the knees, but all it did today was make her heart ache. “Why don’t you tell me about how these things should be done in America, and I will fix what I have done wrong, yes?”
― Elizabeth Camden, The Rose of Winslow Street

“Well, Libby, I have been thinking about our problem,” he finally said. “My boys enjoy your visits, and ever since I met you I have trouble getting the thought of your smile out of my head.” Her eyes widened and her mouth went dry. He looked distinctly uncomfortable as he stared across the field, but he wasn’t finished speaking and Libby would not stop him for all the gold in the world. “I have always thought you very pretty. A man would be blind not to think so, but when you smile! Well, your smile fills half of your face, and it makes the other half beautiful.” Libby was struck speechless. Had he been suffering from the same irrational infatuation she had been battling these past six weeks? A sense of joy started to bloom inside and she beamed a smile directly at him. “Don’t show it to me!” he said with a nervous laugh and turned away from her. “Your smile will distract me, and this is serious business I wish to discuss.” He shifted his weight and stared off into the distance again. “You have a love of the outdoors and for plants, just as I have. You get along well with my children and it is obvious to anyone that you would be an excellent mother. I think we would be a good match. Perhaps you would consider marrying me?”
― Elizabeth Camden, The Rose of Winslow Street

“Michael sprang to his feet, then she gasped when he swung her up into his arms and whirled her in a circle. Her feet went flying out behind her and she clung to his neck as the yard spun around her. Michael kept spinning her in a circle as peals of laughter sounded from his strong throat. She was breathless by the time her feet landed on the ground, her head still whirling so badly she dared not let go of him lest she fall.”
― Elizabeth Camden, The Rose of Winslow Street

“I want to annihilate that man,” her father growled. “He has taken my house. He has taken my drawings. I swear by all that is holy he is trying to take my daughter.” At Libby’s gasp, her father whirled to fix her with an angry glare. “Yes, my daughter! That man has more tricks up his sleeve than a traveling magician. Don’t think he is fascinated by your charms, Libby. The man only wants to take whatever is mine.”
― Elizabeth Camden, The Rose of Winslow Street

“I will find a safer place for Libby to spend the night until your temper has cooled. No woman should be subjected to a man who is under the rule of anger.”
― Elizabeth Camden, The Rose of Winslow Street

“Libby tried to scramble down, but the hem of her dress became snagged in the wheel axle and her urgent tugs did nothing to free it. In an instant Michael was by her side, leaning across her and pulling the trapped muslin free. Libby’s eyes widened in horror as his two hands encompassed her waist and she was bodily lifted from the cart and set on the cobblestone street as gently as if she were made of porcelain. “Get your hands off my daughter.” She startled at the venom in her father’s voice and scurried toward the house, but she was no match for Michael’s long-legged stride as he caught up with her at the base of the porch. Didn’t he realize that he was making the situation worse? Michael looked her father directly in the eye. “Mr. Sawyer—” “Professor Sawyer.” “Professor Sawyer,” Michael amended. “Your daughter has been very gracious. Her knowledge of the plants in the area is astounding.” “Her foolishness is astounding! And I ought to have you arrested . . . taking liberties with a mental deficient too stupid to know your motives.” Libby flinched at the fury in her father’s voice and heat gathered in her cheeks. Michael’s brows lowered and he moved to stand between her and the professor. “My English is not perfect and I do not understand what you just called your daughter, but I understand the tone,” Michael said calmly. “You have cause to resent me, but Libby does not deserve to be the target of your anger. I will not leave her in a house where she may be treated harshly.”
― Elizabeth Camden, The Rose of Winslow Street

“I wish I could have found the red juniper for you,” she said softly. It seemed such an insignificant gift to offer, but finding the tree was important to Michael and the only thing she could do for him. A rustle of fabric and the tread of his boots signaled that he had come to stand behind her, so close she could smell the scent of leather and sweat and man. “I wish I could build a castle for you,” he said simply.”
― Elizabeth Camden, The Rose of Winslow Street

“Who is your father?” “The Duke of Vlaska.” There was no hesitation in his voice, just a simple statement of fact. “I thought he was dead,” Libby said. “Are you suggesting you are the current Duke of Vlaska?” This time he looked directly at her, although in the dimness of the barn all she could see was a face carved in shadows and a curious glint in his eyes. “Succession in Romania works the same as in the other European countries. The oldest son is the Duke’s heir.” “And are you his oldest son?” “I am.”
― Elizabeth Camden, The Rose of Winslow Street

“She cast a worried glance at Michael, but a grin had split his face wide open. “You look like a frightened mouse. A little rain will feel good in this heat.”
― Elizabeth Camden, The Rose of Winslow Street

“She was stunned when he suddenly pushed off the sofa and knelt on one knee before her. “Libby, you have no cause to help me,” he said in an earnest voice. “I have been nothing but trouble to you and your family, but does that mean we are destined to be enemies in all things? Because I think you are a woman of great quality. I watch you march into town armed with nothing but the strength of your compassion for a family in need. You are smart and courageous, and I find this very attractive.”
― Elizabeth Camden, The Rose of Winslow Street

“Why don’t you call me Michael,” Mr. Dobrescu said. “You will damage your throat if you keep mangling our name.”
― Elizabeth Camden, The Rose of Winslow Street