I’ll be your friend in daylight. I’ll treat you as a comrade in every gas-lit ballroom. But alone, under moonlight, I’ll not pretend that I want you for anything but mine.

Over the years, everyone stumbles. That's why I'll be here for you — and you'll be there for me. I don't expect perfection. I want you, and you're a thousand times better.

Maybe that’s what I have been looking for. When storms and rockslides threaten, I am looking for someone who will hold on to me and not let go.

Jenny: But surely Lord Blakely could not abandon his estates for so long.Gareth: No. Lord Blakely could not. Not unless he had someone he could trust to run his estates in his absence. And Lord Blakely...Well, Lord Blakely did not trust anyone.Jenny: Lord Blakely is talking about himself in the third person, past tense. Its disturbing.

You could make me say it again," he whispered. "Make me say it always. Make me say it so often that you never have cause to doubt. I love you.

Sir Mark Turner," he said. "I speak with the tongues of a thousand angels. Butterflies follow me wherever I go. Birds sing when I take a breath.

I'm not broken,' he repeated. 'Although at the moment . . . ' This was what came of violating the sentimentality quota. Everything he kept bottled inside him came out. He shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. 'At the moment,' he muttered numbly, 'I may be coming a bit unraveled.

You’re a duke’s brother. A knight. And I’m a whore.”He grabbed her wrist. “Don’t call yourself that. I wouldn’t let anyone else talk about you that way— why should I let you?”“Very well. Call me a fallen woman, then.”“Do you think that matters to me? My mother used to say that there was no such thing as a fallen woman. You just had to look for the man who pushed her down.