1,064 Quotes About Historical-romance

He just wanted to get to know her better, from the inside out. He wanted the right to slide his fingers down her arm and weave them with hers. He wanted her here, at his side, indefinitely.Heaven help him. This was all Mamm-wynn's fault, putting ideas in his head.

His blue eyes were saying something Beryl had been wanting to hear—Edward needed her.She reached out and touched the growing hair on his jaw. He had decided to let his beard grow over the cold months. He placed his hand over hers, and turning it slowly over, he kissed her wrist.The sensation of his lips on her skin made Beryl’s knees feel weak. Good thing I’m sitting.

Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment. Next, Edward’s lips touched hers, feather light at first. She kissed him back. It took only seconds for them to kiss each other with a hunger that spoke of more than nourishment. Beryl’s heart raced as Edward peeled back her collar and unbuttoned the first few buttons of her shirtwaist. She sat there with her eyes closed in a trance as his lips touched the hollow of her neck. All sound vanished except the beating of her heart in her ears.

She thought how different life might have been for her if Edward hadn’t grown up a farmer’s son. She might have lived in town in a fine house like Cedric’s. But is that what I would want?Some days, the farming life appealed to her: the fresh air, tending growing things, taking care of the animals. Other days, it morphed into little more than drudgery. And now, being alone. Well, she could do without that. It was not what she had agreed to.

Edward read through his words again before sealing them up in an envelope. There were other words he wanted to say, but he didn’t know how. How could he tell Beryl that he missed the color of her eyes at night, her laugh when he made a joke, and even her chiding? Those were things he couldn’t write in a letter. He didn’t consider himself a romantic, and Beryl had known that when she had married him. June seemed like such a long time back to Edward, much longer than six months ago.

I blamed my absent husband for so many things, but I have come to see—life in general is to blame. Edward would have stayed home if there had been another way. I was too stubborn to recognize the truth.What will he say when I meet him at the depot? For that matter, what am I to say? Perhaps neither of us will need to speak. We will embrace and hopefully capture our hearts in our gaze, which will be enough.

His feelings were confused; he wanted to grasp till Alexander's very bones were somehow engulfed within himself, but knew this to be wicked and mad; he would kill anyone who harmed a hair of his head.

When she wanted to think of nothing else, sh would listen to him talk. The Irish accent was more prominent in his father, but the tiny song in his voice often calmed her like the rise and fall of a ship on low waves.

If she were to be lonely for the rest of her life, if she were to try and live without her love, at least she could do so in Scotland.