Quotes from Carolyn Jewel

If he spoke, there was no possible outcome but another disastrous exchange of words at cross-purposes. The chances of him finding both the right words and the right inflection were, in his experience with her thus far, vanishingly small. He would either growl at her, or tell her what was in his heart.

There is a view," he said. "You will admire it." A command. All wrong. He meant for her to hear that he wanted her to see the view, but no. By habit, he demanded that she accompany him. "I should like for you to see it. Please.

Dread that she would meet some other man and see in him all the joy of life that he lacked. "I will see you home." The words came out all wrong, with gruff emphasis on the word will. One look at her, and he lost all chance at serenity. Because he had never in his life cared whether anyone liked him. He'd never thought about it. Until her.

She bent her head over the flowers. He knew she was not beautiful. He knew she did not see herself as the object of a man's lust. He knew if he told her he found her desirable, she'd not understand his meaning. She'd think he meant something other than marriage. In that, she would be right, but a man could want both things from the same woman.

He fell quiet, but she understood this was his way. He was not a talkative man. Once, she'd imagined him sitting alone in his house, a monster ready to devour anyone who came near. What she imagined now was a man who had both his rank and his natural reticence working against him. She smiled at him. If he continued in his gruff ways the rest of his life, she would defend him to anyone. Anyone.

He remounted. "I will ride with you." With some effort, he gentled his voice. "If that would be agreeable to you." "How kind of you. Thank you.

She laughed, and the sound pierced his heart.

She looked at him, and his eyes locked with hers, and she could not breathe for the need she saw there. A thousand thoughts flashed through his eyes, and he kept them all to himself. She had never known such a self-contained man, so few words and now none when she desperately needed them from him.

Thus did the duke of Cynssyr, so deservedly referred to as Lord Ruin, dismiss the woman with whom he would soon be desperately in love.