Quotes from Mary Balogh

It was a pang of envy, perhaps. They were family. He was the outsider. Always the outsider.

She did not move, and now she was the Amazon as well as the schoolmistress. She really was a disconcerting female.

There is no other woman as lovely as you . . . And only you can satisfy my soul.

It would be foolish to pretend boredom, she said with some scorn. Surely soon one would be bored in good earnest.

You never did collapse. Only your eyes showed what was going on inside.

Character traits are longer-lasting and are something on which a good marriage can be built. Respect and affection can grow in a marriage if husband and wife like and respect each other.

Of course Diana is taken with Jack. Why else would she ignore him?

You are right, he said, his words slightly slurred. I have been drinking. And drink makes me sentimental. Tomorrow I shall be able to see you as you really are again and I shall despise myself for having detained you here. But for tonight, Elizabeth, I find you infinitely desirable.

We can all be hurt.

No good can come of it, you know. He will only break your heart.

Even now Henry yearned to run to him, to curl into his arms and beg him to take her burdens on his own broad and capable shoulders. And one part of her mind was convinced that he would not turn her away, that she could trust him.

But then deep down, perhaps she had always been those things. People did not really change, did they?

I am not afraid of being single. I am afraid of making a marriage I would regret.

for all other women. He

Have you missed me, Elizabeth? She considered. Yes, I have, she said. I feel relaxed and at home with you, William. Nothing more? he asked ruefully. I cannot say I feel relaxed with you. I love you, I believe.

The memories themselves had been bad enough. It was almost unbearably painful to remember how close they had come to giving themselves to each other, how deep and lasting their love had seemed to be. It was impossible to understand how he could have changed so utterly and in such a short time. She shuddered at the memory of his coldness and callousness . . .

Painting for him, she had realized then, was neither a hobby nor just a way of earning a living. It was a passion and a compulsion. In a certain sense it was who he was. She envied him. She had never been passionate about anything in her life. She had never allowed herself to be. She had deliberately shunned any excess of feeling as ungenteel. It was almost as though she had feared passion and where it might lead her.

Our wedding night, she whispered, and dreams were reborn as she rested her face against his neckcloth.

Life could never offer what she most dreamed of.

Without even realizing it, he had come running to her.

You do know her rather well, your Grace, he said with respect. Eversleigh regarded his brother-in-law steadily. Of course, he said. I happen to love her, you see.

He needed her. He needed her now.

It is a long story, I'm afraid, sir. Yes, he agreed, they usually are.

But there really was no hurry. It is time to love, he had said downstairs. And time was not always just one second long or even one minute or one hour. Those were artificial divisions, imposed by humankind. Time was infinite. And it was time to love.