Quotes from Mary Balogh

For a few dazed moments she had quite forgotten . . . For all the changes ten years had wrought in his physique, she had been caught up in very physical memories. And in the sort of yearning that self-discipline had suppressed in her for so many years that she had thought it quite dead.

She felt pained, desolate, guilty, bewildered—she did not know quite what word to put to her feelings except that they were hard to bear and harder to hide.

We will see," he said. "Yes

She would have enjoyed sharing some of that relaxed warmth. She would have liked just one of those radiant smiles to be directed fully at her.

They had always been comfortable together. She could hardly bear to be in his company now and to feel a stranger.

It would be so easy to forget, so easy to be enticed by an old dream.

And yet as the day progressed she had found herself wishing that he would come— now . If not sooner.

No, it is too late, Robert, she said tonelessly. There has been too much pain for you and me. I cannot face making myself vulnerable again.

We all have to find our own way in life. It is, I believe, what life is all about.

How could she even dream of life with another man when just thinking of him made her heart turn over?

It would be such bliss just to go to him and let him take charge of her life. And he would do so, she knew.

That was what he got for lowering his guard and going off into a dream for a moment.

Miss Tallant, I perceive that it is useless to try to make polite small talk with you. I shall get immediately to the point. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife? Henry's jaw dropped. Miss Tallant? Your wife? she asked faintly. Yes, my wife. I have taken you by surprise, I see. I mistakenly thought you had more fortitude, ma'am. Should I have paved the way more carefully by falling on my knees in front of you and declaring undying love and devotion? I can still do so, if you wish.

You have made it abundantly clear in the past that my wishes and my feelings mean nothing to you.

And she hated him—perhaps the more so because there was no reason for her hatred. Quite the contrary. She was the one who had wronged him . . . His own dislike was a result of what she had done to him. And she knew now that the way she had justified her behavior all those years ago had been all wrong. There had been no justification.

Yet it could be no one else but him. There was a certain feeling about being with Christopher that she had forgotten, a feeling of safeness, of rightness.

Robert had laughed, looking endearingly handsome and at ease in this very uncomfortable situation.

She found that she particularly hugged to herself the memories of the brief physical contacts they had shared.

I wonder if I shall understand you even at the end of a lifetime, he mused, folding his arms across his chest.

For she was being enticed again by a very old dream, one so old that she had thought it quite incapable of being revived. She had thought it could never bring her pain again.

I am the one who has done wrong. Always. All my life, it seems. Bringing misery to everyone I have ever loved.

Only as she heard her own words did she realize how melodramatic, how self-pitying they sounded. And how true.

She received his weight on top of her with a sort of wild relief.

It had been surprisingly easy to begin a new life.