44 Quotes About Meg

From the corner of her eye, she watched Clay walk to his wagon, where he'd find no shade.Isolated.Alone.How simple it would be to prepare him a plate and walk to the wagon to give it to him.How difficult to step into his world of loneliness.

Please," Meg whispered. "I don't want any trouble here."He released his hold on her. As though she might say something further, she parted her lips slightly. Then she walked out of the church."Touch her again, and I'll kill you," Daniel said.Clay wondered if he should tell her brother that he'd be doing him a favor if he killed him… because his heart had just died.

He gave her everything. Everything but the promise of a future. And she met his dark strokes with a plunder of her own, holding his gaze, raking his soul of its secrets. She knew just what she meant to him.

Has any woman ever touched you?" she asked as she splayed her fingers over his thigh."No.""Do you want a woman to touch you?""No."She stilled, and Clay pushed himself up. He cradled her check in his palm. "I want you to touch me.

Three weeks was apparently time enough to fall in love, but not long enough to fall out of love. Meg had this unfortunate truth drummed into her head each morning when she woke, hoping this would be the day that she forgot about Alex, this would be the day she could get on with her life and put Edinburgh behind her. She grimaced. Three weeks, three years, it didn’t make a difference. She would remember.Everything.

Meg forgot about cautioning him to be quiet. She forgot about everything but watching the care with which he wrapped a blanket around Mama Warner before gingerly lifting her into his arms and cradling her against his chest."Comfortable?" he asked."You know how to hold a woman so she feels precious. Makes me wish I was sixty years younger.

You think the only battles fought are done so with rifles, and the only wounds that kill draw blood. You think courage is loud, boisterous, and proud. Mrs. Warner, I don't think you have a clue as to what this memorial truly represents."-Clay to Meg

Reid," I whisper to him. "It wasn't a mistake.""No," he says, resting his forehead against mine. "It was a sign.

It hurts to cry," she said, her voice raspy."It hurts worse not to.""Did you cry?""For four days straight.""Is that how long it took you to bury them?""Yes, ma'am," he said in a voice that sounded like stone grating against stone.