Quotes About Love

And I love you, Gray. I'm sorry I've made your life . . . difficult." "Difficult? You have made it a veritable hell! But it has been quite an adventure, I grant you that. I would not have had it otherwise.

Oooh! I just felt him kick again!" "Now Juliet, how can you know it's a 'he'?" "I know because I'm not nearly as sick as I was with Charlotte. Boys are easier to carry than girls, you know. Or so they say. Oh!" An excited little squeal. "Put your hand right there, Gareth." "Here?" "Yes, right there — do you feel it?" A tense, expectant silence. And then, "Oh, Juliet . . ." Charles

And then he looked up into her eyes and splayed his fingers over her still-flat belly, his smile one of wonder and awe. "And to think that a life grows within you . . . a child. My child. Our child. . .

He reached up, caught her hand, pressed it to his lips, and on a resigned breath, murmured, "Emma, dear, sweet, Emma . . . what would I do without you?" "You'd get on just fine," she joked, "for you are Nelson. Now be still—we 'ave much to do before Sir Graham and 'is bride-to-be arrive!

If it were mine, I would clear this room of all these foolish statues, paint the walls happy colors like sunny yellow and heather pink and sky blue, put a thick rug on the floor, and make it my Charlie-girl's. This could be her very own play area. This could be where she'd learn to take her first steps, tumble with the puppies I would get for her, have her first tea party. Oh, if only this house were ours...

He knelt down before her, and put his fingertips beneath her chin, lifting her head so that she had no choice but to look up at him. "I love you, Maeve," he murmured. "Nothing can change that. I love you, and I would like you to be my wife.

Ah — but am I worth loving?

His hand on her back, Gareth steadied the baby so that she would not fall. He looked up at Juliet. "You have done much for me," he said at last. "Will you honor me by confessing your name?" "Juliet." He smiled. "As in Romeo and Juliet?" "I suppose.

I didn't do anything wrong, Gray. I merely saved your life, and I would do it again in a heartbeat. Her throat tightened and she blinked back sudden tears. I'd do it again in a heartbeat because, dammit, I love you.

Miss Leighton." "Lord Charles?" He gave her that special smile that melted everything inside her. "You are an angel. And don't forget it." You

Pirate?" "Aye, Majesty?" His fingers drifted through her hair, and she kissed his damp chest. "I . . . I don't believe I'll kill you, after all." She felt him smile against her forehead. "Maybe you really are my Gallant Knight," she murmured, and on that thought, drifted off to sleep.

Grown women didn't cry; tough, hardened, pirate queens didn't cry. Damn her eyes, what the hell was wrong with her? Her lover stirred—and Maeve froze. Dark azure eyes opened, and he looked lazily up at her through his lashes. "There now, what's this? Did I do something wrong?" He sat up, and tried to reach for her. "Say something wrong?" But she only leapt up and off the bed, putting distance between them.

Lady Simms?" he whispered. "Yes?" He swallowed hard, gathering the courage to say what he must. "You . . . you won't leave me, will you?

After making love to Juliet well into the wee hours, it was no wonder that Gareth's eyes felt like lead when he opened them the following morning. Even so, as he gazed lovingly at his sleeping wife, he wanted nothing more than to gather her up in his arms, bury his face in her silky, unbound hair, and cuddle away the morning. The afternoon. The whole day. If

But Gwyneth was determined that this dark angel, this remote but magnificent man she loved, would not die.

Sir Graham was in his best uniform. The one that had never seen sea service, but was reserved for only the most honored of occasions, the gold buttons and lace and epaulets blindingly bright in the sun, the medal of the Nile around his neck, the broad red sash of knighthood across his right shoulder. His hands were clasped behind his back; a sailor he was, even here, and he was smiling, his eyes radiant with love as he caught sight of her and watched her move slowly down the path, toward him.

That which I wish to tell you, Damon . . . is that I love you." He drew her to him, unable to contain himself any longer. "I love you too, Gwyneth. God help me, I do." He felt her arms go around him, pulling him up and into her embrace, and as he leaned his forehead against her shoulder and the great, hitching sobs claimed him, the light shone upon him at last.

Their eyes met. And in that brief, wonderful moment of revelation, Maeve knew the truth. Gray had given her back the ability to trust. The little admiral had given her back her family. After seven long years, the Merricks were united at last.

You may think she should be soft and feminine, pampered and sweet, a lady in the accepted sense of the word, but she is what she is, sir, and acted with those qualities that, in a man, would have been applauded as heroic. Courageous." The gentle eyes looked up at Gray, silently condemning. "I'm sorry, sir. But I think you are unfair to reject the woman you love just because she defended that which she held most dear.

You were right, you know." "About what?" "About me. About the things I've kept locked within myself, about my dread of getting close to anyone, about everything. I thought you were talking a load of rubbish, but somewhere, somehow, I ended up looking deep inside myself and found that you spoke the truth. You saw something I didn't. Something I didn't want to see. And you've made me realize that allowing one's self to love and be loved isn't so frightening, after all.

And sometime during that long hour that he held her, Lord Gareth de Montforte ceased being the man she'd married and became her best friend.

I wish to marry you, Maeve, because I'm an honorable man. I wish to marry you because you are everything I ever wanted in a woman. It has nothing to do with ownership, I wish to marry you because, dammit, I love you!

You are the most exotically beautiful woman I have ever met," he whispered against her forehead. "Don't ever leave me, Amy. I beg of you, never leave me." "I couldn't Charles, not even if I wanted to." And

Well, thank God for that," the admiral exclaimed. He took the girl's hand, his thumb caressing her palm before raising it to his lips. Her eyes flashing, she opened her mouth to deliver a scathing rebuke that the admiral effectively cut off: "I daresay, she has taken a decade off my life with the amount of worrying I've done about her. Do be careful there, man. She's to be my wife, you know." "Like hell I am," Maeve snarled.