Laura Lee Guhrke Quotes

Marriage is a partnership Phillip, not a feudal kingdom. Until you can accept that I have the right to dictate the course of my on life, I will not marry you. Until you can accept my wishes and my opinions are just worthy of consideration as yours, I will not marry you. Until you can accept that what I would give up to be your wife is just as important as what you offer in exchange, I will not marry you.

I suppose you have already informed God that you will require at least three sons to ensure the Tremore line?

I've been in love and it doesn't last. And when it's over, it's hell for a while. And then one discovers that life goes on. Eventually, one falls in love again. This pattern repeats itself until one is too jaded to believe in it anymore, or too old for all the upheaval.

Ian!" she cried, afraid to believe it. "I don't want you to ever regret that you married me."
He smiled, and his fingertips caressed her cheeks. "Regret it? How could I?" You are my passionate
Italian wife. You are the woman who is going to give me children and whose bed I intend to sleep in
every night. You're the reason I'll wake up every morning with a smile on my face. I love you, I will be in
love with you every day of my life, and the only day I'm leaving you is the day they put me in the ground.

Even out of bad things, good things can happen. Even things that are sordid or painful can lead to things that are beautiful.

Resolved untested was moot.

One couldn't spend one's entire life waiting for life to start.

Marry me and make an honest man of me in my butler's
eyes." He kissed her. "Marry me and save me from having to chase loose women for the rest of my life."
He kissed her again. "Marry me, darling," he said once more against her lips. "Because I adore you.

There were times, however, when a man had to make a strategic retreat to win the game.

You're killing me," he told her, panting, his palms sliding down over her ribs to explore the rest of her
shape - her waist, her hips, her thighs. "Killing me by inches." He lifted his body from hers enough to
yank up her skirt. "But it's a damn fine way for a man to die.

Madness comes to us all. Even you.

Nothing causes more pain, frustration, and disappointment than unfulfilled expectations.

If Flynn's as you say, the boy - Simon, you called him? - Simon should be all too happy to come away with us. I've no ill will toward him."
"You might remember Simon's the one who gave you a great clout on the head," she said.
David waved it away. "And why shouldn't he? He likely thought I was about to maul your unconscious person.

I have never thought you weren't good enough for me. The fear I always had, deep down in my heart, is that I'm not good enough for you."
Murmurs of astonishment rippled through the room but he didn't seem to notice.
"You see, I was never the one who could make you laugh." He glanced at Lawrence, then back at her.
"I was never the one who made coronets of rosebuds for your hair and told you that you were pretty."
He swallowed hard, and his chin lifted a notch, telling her as clearly as any word how difficult it was for him to reveal himself this way.
"I always wanted to say those things, do those things, but I couldn't, for a gentleman is not supposed to behave that way. A gentleman is not supposed to fall in love with the chef's daughter. But right now, today, I don't give a damn what gentlemen do. I'm just a man, and the only thing I care about is you.

She met his gaze over the plums. The point is, we all care, to some degree, what others think of us.

I shouldn't wish to be a tease. To ... lead you on."
He smiled. "That's my look-out, not yours."
She considered that, doubtfully. "There are some men who would disagree."
His smile vanished. "Then they are worthless curs, not men.

I always let you decide. If you decide wrong, I work to change your mind.

Came to her, not the athletic, graceful leopard of the ballroom at Hanford House but her very own wounded animal. Her husband. Her lover. Her best friend.

Olivia watched him through a blur of tears, despising the futility of it. For there was nothing she could say to comfort a man whose family was long dead; there was no balm to heal wounds that scored a man's soul; and there was no way to make a man believe in the ties that bind.

She gave him a dubious look, as if he wasn't quite right in the head. "Sometimes, Englishman, I do not
understand you. I love you, but I do not always understand you."
She turned and started across the meadow. He remained where he was and watched her walk away,
with her skirts in her hand and the sun on her hair.
"I love you, too," he said, but only after she was too far away to hear. "I always have.

If I'm to be damned, I'll be damned as a lion, not as a lamb.

There was fear, of course. That was always with her, something she'd accepted and learned to live with a long time ago. But, right beside it, other emotions were pushing up, fighting for space and light and air. Things like excitement and desire, longing and hope. Agony and uncertainty. Things that made fear seem almost comfortable, like broken-in pair of leather shoes or a perfectly fitted glove. Fear, at least, was familiar.

This was the pain of being happy, something she hadn't felt since she was a girl, when the future had been full of hope and the world had been wonderful and all life's possibilities lay ahead. This was the pain of light and beauty and a man's tender kiss. It was the burn in your eyes when you looked into the bright, shining sun, and the pinch in your chest when you saw the first green shoots of springtime, and the lump in your throat when you heard the sound of a newborn baby's cry. It was life, life, life.

Webs of deceit were not only tangled, they were also very lonely.

It's time love," he murmured, nuzzling her throat, kissing her ear.
"I've waited so long. I can't wait any longer have you.

The human heart must be a strong and resilient thing, Daphne decided when she awoke the following morning. She was surprised to find that she was no longer in the throes of wrenching heartbreak and pain. Instead, in a strange way, she felt as if she had been reborn.

Pardon me for not being willing to commit my entire future to you based on two kisses and a blueberry muffin.

Lizzie Darbury won't do," Vivian said. "She never understands Harry's jokes. She just stares at him as if he's a bit touched in the head and doesn't laugh." "And that's important," Louisa said. "Men do hate it when we don't find them amusing. Especially Harry. It quite upsets him.

Life is like a picture, you know. It's all in the way you frame it.

How much time do I get in exchange for that rose?"
For the rose, a short engagement. For the speech, you get a lifetime."
I can live with that," he said, and kissed her.

This was why I did what I
did," she whispered. "I looked at those men at the ball, and I thought of that night in the carriage when
you touched me, and I knew I could never let any of them touch me." She tilted her head back and
closed her eyes, pressing his hands to her breasts. "Only you.

He could feel the only woman he had ever wanted slipping away for the third time, and he knew that this time, the pain of losing her would annihilate her.

He turned out the lamp and left the room, his body in agony. Sometimes, it was absolute hell to be a
gentleman.

Why did the best answers to unfounded criticism always come to a person while stewing about the situation afterward?

No one judging her by her appearance would dream that Miss Daphne Wade had a rather salacious habit of staring at her employer's naked chest whenever she had the chance, although most women would have agreed that Anthony Courtland, Duke of Tremore, had a chest worth looking at.

As far back as I can remember, whenever you used to look at me, your face would light up as if someone had lit a candle inside you.

Forgive me if your contempt from on high always brings out the worst in me.

We're your friends. Our job is to tease you mercilessly about your foibles, rag you about your upright, honorable nature, and point out to you when you're being a complete dolt.

Shakespeare's Iago could be played as a soul in hell, driven, dark and desperate, willing to do anything, willing to use anyone, in order to escape from that hell.

It never does any good to dwell on what could go wrong. There is risk in everything.

Viola started for the door, but turned in the doorway to look at her one more time. "By the way, Daphne, beauty does not mean a thing, you know."
Daphne watched as her new friend vanished through the doorway, and she smiled a bit ruefully. "Beautiful women always say that," she murmured to the empty doorway.

Oh, that anything could feel like this. It was wicked and wanton.
It was wonderful. That Philip, whom she always thought so proper, should know of such things as this. It amazed her.

Neamh," he murmered. '"Tis Neamh, you are, Olivia.