Lynn Kurland Quotes

Why did you enter Gobhann?"
"I already told you."
"I know what you told me", she said impatiently. "I want to know the real reason."
He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, then reached for her plate. He set it down on the floor with his, then pulled her close and put his mouth against her ear.
"I went inside Gobhann because I wanted you to come out of the dark. With me. Because I love you. Because you were made for more than life in that dreadful place." He sat back. "There. All the reasons."
"But the price you paid
"
"Was worth it," he finished without hesitation. "You, Morgan of Melksham, were worth that price." He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Don't you think?

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He grunted. "I knew that was too easy an answer to the riddle. Very well, if you are neither of those things, then what have you to fear from me?" "You aren't exactly shy about giving in to your temper." "And if I vowed to keep it in check?" "I don't think you could." "Damn you, Jessica, I demand you give me the tale!" "See?" she said. He took a deep breath, releasing it very slowly. Then he looked at her again. "Tell me," he said calmly.

The panic crept closer, accompanied by a niggling doubt. Could she go back to her time? Did she want to? He shoved both thoughts aside forcefully. They were betrothed. It was too late for thinking. A betrothal was as binding as marriage. He could bed her with a clear conscience, sire sons and daughters on her and not call them bastards. She was bound to him and it was a bond she could not break. He would make certain of that. She'd stolen his heart, damn her, and he wouldn't let that go unpunished.

I am a connoisseur of fine irony. 'Tis a bit like fine wine, but it has a better bite.

What's in your other hand?" "A message I need to have sent," he lied blithely. "I'll leave you to your work." "Without a kiss?" He definitely felt his mouth twitch that time. "You're baiting me." "And enjoying it very much, thank you." "I haven't the time for it now," he said. "I've a very important matter to attend to. Perhaps later.

Is it safe?" John asked, hovering by the doorway. "Safe?" Richard asked. "What mean you by that?" John entered the chamber slowly. Richard blinked at the enormous discoloration on John's face. "Saints, man, have you and Jessica been brawling?" "Jessica? Richard, you fool, 'twas you who struck me! And twice, no less!" "Me? Have you gone daft? Why would I do such a thing?" John shrugged. "You were out of your head with fever. Jessica was the fortunate one. You only nicked her. I took the full brunt of your blows.

Richard," she said pulling away, "why are you shaking?" The troubled look hadn't faded from his eyes. "I don't want to hurt you." "You won't," she promised. "I just did." "You slammed me back against the wall. I would have hurt you if I'd done the same thing." He grunted, but said no more. "I'm trying to soothe you," she offered. "What would soothe me is to hear you say nothing else to Kendrick of Artane until he leaves." "I'm just being polite." "I don't like it," Richard said, his words clipped.

You'll not go anywhere," he announced. "Yes, I will," she said, through gritted teeth. "You'll use a chamber pot." "I will not!" He thrust his hand in front of her face. The heavy silver ring sat prominently on his middle finger. "This says you'll obey me," he growled. "You'll use the chamber pot because I command you to do so!" "You'll have to hold me there and that just isn't going to happen," Jessica argued. "What is the difference between that and - " "Richard!" He made a sound of impatience. "'Tis nothing to be ashamed of, Jessica. I would expect the same care from you. And if memory serves, I had it when I had the fever before. Isn't that so?" "It was different." "Aye, 'twas me with my arse bared to the daylight!

Come," he said, holding out his hand for her. She shook her head. Richard paused, then frowned. "I said, come." "And I said, no." He frowned again. "The cold has numbed your thinking, lady. 'Tis your duty to obey me." "I'm not your trained dog to come when you call." "You forget your place." "My place, buster, is not at your feet, licking your boots!" "There are many who would beg for the chance to do just that!

But she had no hard cash. Not even a tissue in case she became hysterical.

He lifed his head and looked down at her seriously. "Could you," he began, then he had to clear his throat. "Could you learn to be fond of me?" he asked. "With enough time?"
She looked at him in surprise. It was the first time in all their acquaintance that she'd heard him sound the least bit hesitant. "I don't need to learn anything," she said, before she thought better of it.

Richard opened the door, then stood back. "After you, my lady." Jessica walked into the room and gasped. She turned around and around, trying to take in the entire view. He had painted the bedroom walls. Talk about an unobstructed ocean view. It was more magnificent than she ever could have imagined. She laughed and threw herself at him. "You're amazing," she said breathlessly. "It's beautiful!" "Nay," he said, shutting the door and bolting it. "You are the beautiful one.

Morgan was looking at the food in front of her suspiciously, as if it intended to merely reside for a bit inside her, then liberate itself at a most inconvenient time.

I can't tell you how nice it is to hear someone talking like the voices in my head," Abigail said, linking arms with Jessica and heading toward the battlement door. "You'll have to come visit - a lot. Miles will love it." "Did you tell him about me?" "He guessed." "He didn't!" "Not much gets past the man.

Jessica," he began. "Just leave me alone!" He turned her around. That she only hesitated briefly before she allowed it was a very good sign, to his mind. He pulled her close, then ran his blood-caked hand over her hair as gently as he knew how. She liked that. He would have walked from Hadrian's wall to London on his hands if she'd liked that, too. Saints, what a fool love made of a normally sane man. He rested his bruised cheek against her hair. "Jess," he whispered, "it was talk you shouldn't have heard." She tried to pull away, but he tightened his arms around her. "I said things I didn't mean." "You creep, then you don't care about me at all!" "I care," he said, forcing the words from between suddenly parched lips. He was so terrified, he was shaking. If she turned and walked away now, he wasn't sure he would survive.

Ruith?"
He looked at her with a smile. "Aye, my love?"
"Are you sure?"
He looked at her, puzzled, for a moment, then apparently he realized what she was asking. "How could you ask?"
"Because when a gel wants something very badly, she tends to want to avoid breaking her heart over the false hope of having it."
His breath caught. If she hadn't known better, she would have thought he was blinking rapidly from something besides the smoke the passageway.

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I could tell you a tale about something,' Miach offered, rubbing her hand absently. 'If you like.'
She frowned thoughtfully. 'What sort of something?'
'Something that would soothe you,' he promised. 'I'm sure there would be swords involved. Bloodshed. Peril. That kind of thing.

Say me aye," he whispered against her mouth. "Say me aye."
How could she say anything else?

Runach didn't consider himself particularly dull, but he had to admit he was baffled. "Then what now?"
"What do you mean, what now?" Weger echoed in disbelief. "Do what is necessary! Bloody hell, man, must I instruct you in every bloody step? Take your mighty magic and heal her!"
Runach blinked. "What in the world are you talking about?"
Weger threw up his hands in frustration. "Heal her, you fool! Use Fadaire or whatever elvish rot comes first to mind."
"I have no magic."
"Of course you have magic--" Weger stopped suddenly. "You what?"
"I have no magic," Runach repeated, through gritted teeth. "My father took it at the well."
Weger looked suddenly as if he needed to sit down. "Bloody hell," he said faintly. He sagged back against the door. "I had no idea"
Weger rubbed his hands over his face and indulged in a selection of very vile curses. "Damn it," he said, finally. He looked at Runach. "What are we to do now?"
"If magic will work here" Runach said, "why don't you use yours?"
Weger folded his arms over his chest. "I haven't used a word of magic in over three hundred years!"
"No time like the present to dust it off then, is there?"
Weger hesitated. Runach suspected it was the first time in those same three centuries the man had done so. He considered, then looked at Runach.
"I could," he said, sounding as if the words had been dragged from him by a thousand irresistible spells, "but I have no elegant magic

My lady teases me. You do not. Understood?

He pulled himself back up straight into his chair. Then, before she had any idea what he'd planned, he pulled her down into his lap. She fell, surprised. His embrace was passionless; more comforting than anything. She didn't mind. It was too late at night for anything else. Richard yawned as he snuggled her close and rested his cheek against the top of her head. "I'm not good at apologizing," he said with another yawn. She pulled back and put her hand over his mouth. "Yes, you are. Apology accepted.

The trees sang their approval.
Ruith cocked an ear and listened to them for a moment or two, smiled faintly, then continued on his way toward her. Sarah felt her breath catch, again. She wondered if there would ever come a day when she could look at him and yawn.

If Richard trusted anyone with his life, it would have been Kendrick of Artane. But trust Kendrick with his woman? Not a chance in hell. He strode across the lists, intent on intercepting Artane's lad before he spotted Jessica.

You're trembling," he said. "I think I'm scared." "But why?" He smoothed his hand over her hair. "I was a fool to have left you alone, but it won't happen again." "I've never had anyone try to kill me before." Richard patted her back gently. "'Tis a bit unnerving the first time.

How could a woman who was that beautiful, who smelled that good, who had such perfectly lovely teeth and bright eyes, be so thoroughly, completely, entirely, stark raving mad?" ~ Robert Cameron

Eventually, after listening to a good deal of grumbling and muttering, Jessica felt the bed dip. A calloused hand reached for hers. "It is late?" she asked. "Late enough." "Hold me?" How gentle were those powerful arms as they gathered her close. Jessica pressed her face against Richard's neck and sighed at the pleasure of the warmth. His hint of a beard was rough against her forehead but she didn't mind that either. She put her hands on the hard wall of his chest and let the heat of his body seep into hers. Richard's hand trembled as he brushed her hair back from her face and she knew it was because he was trying to be gentle. She snuggled closer to him and felt herself drifting off to sleep.

He squatted down before her, taking her chin in his hand and lifting her face upward. "You need to eat. You're pale." "I'm perfectly fine," she said curtly. He was surprised by her tone, unpleasantly so. The woman was not as meek as she should have been, given the circumstances. He had saved her, hadn't he? To his mind, that demanded a bit of gratitude. "You don't look sound," he retorted. "I've had a few shocks today. I won't hold you up, if that's what you're worried about.

He was, and she had to swallow very hard to keep from choking, the most terribly beautiful man she had ever seen. He had a long, wicked scar that traveled from his temple down his cheek to the side of his chin and below his jaw. Somehow, though, it just didn't detract from his handsomeness, dark though that was. His face was all planes and angles, harsh even in the deepening gloom. His hair was dark and his eyes were full of cynicism.

He can occasionally see to an enemy," she conceded. "If he manages to get his sword pointed in the right direction and the enemy does him the favor of falling upon it in precisely the right way.

I love this medieval stuff," Archie announced to whatever assembly was there, "don't you?" And with that, he slapped her happily on the rump - to the accompaniment of more horrified gasps - and continued on his way.

She smiled. "You're very sweet." "Now you go too far - " She shoved her hand under his nose. "This is your ring you see, my lord, and that gives me the right to tell you to be quiet. So, be quiet. I'll probably be back to thinking you're a jerk tomorrow, so live with the compliment while it's still in force. Got it?" He grumbled something she didn't catch. But then, to her utter surprise, he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it in a rough, Richardy kind of way. Then he dropped it as if it had been a hot potato, set her on her feet, then leaned his head back against the chair and pretended to snore. Jessica went to bed with a smile on her face.

Perhaps you would care to wear it. While we are in this chamber," he added hastily. She lifted her eyebrows. "Why?" "Because then you would be lord." "Why would I want that?" "Then you would rule over me. As I rule over you when I wear this ring." He looked at her earnestly. "To give you a feeling of power. At least while we are inside." She slowly folded her fingers over the ring and Richard was sure he'd appeased her. Then she shook her head. "You don't understand." She looked up at him. "I don't want to rule you." "But . . ." "Richard, I just want you to stop thinking of me as someone who isn't your equal. That's all." "But you're a woman!" "And you're a man." "You cannot fight." "You can't bear children." He frowned. "You couldn't defend the keep." "You couldn't build one." "And you could?" "I could." This wasn't proceeding as he had planned it should.

What?" Richard demanded. John merely shook his head and smiled. "She rides very well." "What?" Richard turned to see his horse's rump now far in the distance. "Damn that woman!

She felt sleep creeping up on her like a relentless tide. She tried to summon up a craving for German chocolates. Or New York traffic. Late-night television. Nope. What she really needed was currently scratching her back with the most careful of scratches, humming an off-key melody under his breath. Jessica smiled.

I am her husband!" "Then you can remain unnamed as her one great love whilst her husband looks on unwittingly." Hamlet sighed in satisfaction. "Ah, what romance there is in the world today!" "Hamlet," Richard said, taking his guardsman by the shoulders and giving him a sharp shake. "I wed the girl not a fortnight ago." Hamlet blinked. "And I bedded her as well!" Hamlet began to look rather crestfallen.

He belted his sword around his hips, threw a cloak over his shoulder, and knelt on one knee beside the bed. He kissed her with his eyes open and she understood completely because she couldn't rob herself of one last sight of him either. "Mend my hose while I'm gone," he said, straightening. "Don't count on it." He smiled, the brief satisfied smile of a man who knew in whose hands his heart was kept, then turned and left the room without saying anything else. Jessica rose and pulled a blanket around her. Then she knelt on the hard stone floor of a medieval tower chamber and prayed that she hadn't just seen the last of him.

Good morrow to you, Jessie," Kendrick called. "Jessica," Richard said, giving Kendrick another jerk. "Her name is Jessica!

A man does not come at what is mine, harm it, and walk away unscathed.

You're very difficult." He only flashed her the slightest of smiles. "Likely why you wed me. It wouldn't have done for you to have found a man simply and won him without effort.

Jessica tended Kendrick's hurts before the fire and Richard only had to unclench his fists two or three times. And then his turn came. He sat down on the floor and Jessica fussed over him. He couldn't remember the last time someone had done the like. It had probably been at Artane years ago. Somehow, Lady Anne's touch hadn't pleased him as Jessica's did. When she pulled away, he opened his eyes to beg her not to cease, then realized there was nothing left to do. He caught her by the hand and pulled her close, not caring that Kendrick sat behind him and was likely on the verge of laughing. He very carefully pressed his lips against hers. "Thank you." "You're extremely welcome.

Jessica," he whispered hoarsely. "Ah, merciful saints above, I thought I'd never have you again." He clutched her to him. "Say you'll never leave me. Vow you'll never leave my arms again. Nay, I'll never let you go." He held her tighter. "Nothing will take you from me again, not even time. No more wishes. No more wishes unless we make them together.

Why would I go when everything I love is here?" "Who?" he said gruffly. "Hamlet with his charming manners? My poor unmanned brother upstairs? My mother-henning captain?" She smiled. "No." "Kendrick?" "Not even Kendrick." He was silent for a very long time. Then he looked away. "Whom do you love?" he asked, as if he couldn't have possibly cared less about the answer. "You, of course." He looked back at her then, but said nothing. "You're a wonderful man, Richard. I'm not sorry I had to travel over seven hundred years to find you. And I sincerely hope that betrothal contract was binding, because I have no intention of seeing it broken.

Have you ever known there was something you needed to do, but found yourself dreading it with everything you were?"
"Once or twice," he said.
"What did you do?"
Runach looked at her steadily. "I did what needed to be done."
"Was the price steep?"
"Very."
Aisling clutched her own bow, wishing her task was nothing more than learning to place an arrow where she wanted it to land. "Did you ever want to run?" She whispered.
He smiled, but it was a pained smile. "I'm not sure I want to answer that."
"Do you think Heroes ever want to run ... ?"
"Only if they come from Neroche."
She blinked, then smiled.

Stay and ply your needle. I need no hall that stands crooked." "I wasn't going to build it, I was going to help plan it." "Impossible." Jessica looked up at him with narrowed eyes. "Why?" "You're a woman." "And what's that supposed to mean?" "It means," he said, a dark frown settling on his brow, "that women are capable of sewing, bearing children, and making a man's life hell. And you aren't even capable of sewing.

A storm is coming in and I feared you would be frightened." "I love storms." "We'll see," he said. "I daresay you'll need my strong arms around you to make you feel safe.

Ah, never," Nicholas said, rubbing his hands together. "Such an interesting word."
"You know, Your Majesty, the only reason I'm not swearing at you right now is because I was taught to be kind to old men."
Nicholas laughed merrily. "Cheeky whelp."
"Does that mean you won't slay me for telling you that you're a thoroughly obnoxious, interefering, exasperating ... " Runach took a deep breath. "Good breeding prevents me from saying more."
Nicholas smiled. "Runach, my dearest boy, you are truly your mother's son.

You great bloody bully."
"Which is exactly what you need, you vexatious headstrong wench.

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Off with you," he said. "Sleep will heal your wounds." She paused. "Does this mean we're going to be amicable now?" "Call it a temporary truce. Now go to bed." "Is that a command?" He had the feeling the correct response was "nay." That was not the answer he cared to give, however, so he merely pointed toward the bed and glared at her. "You know, I could help you with your man/woman relationship skills," she said. "You could stand to become familiar with a woman's perspective." "Spew none of your womanly nonsense at me, lady, nor," he said, sitting up and frowning, "nor any of that future foolishness, for I believe it not.

Richard nodded, then fumbled around in the purse at his belt. He took her hand and slid a ring onto her finger. "I meant to give you this," he said. "Before, ah, the tidings came . . ." "Oh," she said, looking down, "Richard, it's beautiful - " "Aye, and so are you." And with that and a firm brush of his lips across hers, he was gone. Jessica stood in the inner bailey of Robin of Artane's courtyard and stared down at what she assumed was her wedding ring.

You," he said distinctly, "are, I am quite certain, going to be more trouble than you are worth.

Where are you from?" She asked without thinking.
"I was born in the mountains." Runach said with a shrug. "The place doesn't matter."
"Do you have siblings?"
"Yes, several. Not all are still living. He smiled faintly. "You are full of questions this afternoon."
"The library was a bad influence on me."
Runach smiled briefly. "And I believe that was three questions you asked me, which leaves me with three of my own for you to answer."
"That was two."
"I don't count very well."
"I think you count very well," she said grimly.
He only smiled again. "I'll contemplate which answers I'll have and let you know." Aisling thought she just might be dreading them, but couldn't bring herself to say as much.
"What was your home like?" she asked.
"Another question."
"You look distracted."
He smiled and a dimple peeked out at her from his unscarred cheek. "You are more devious than I give you credit for being. I am keeping a tally, you know. I will expect a like number of answers from you."
She stared at him for a moment or two. It was difficult not to, but he didnt seem to mind. "Why?" She asked finally.
"Beacause you are a mystery."
"And do you care for a mystery?"
"I am obsessed by a good mystery," he said frankly. "More than enough to pry a few answers out of you, however I am able."
"And what if I am not inclined to give them?" She asked, her mouth suddenly dry.
"Then I will wonder about you si

I'm so happy," she whispered. "I never thought I would ever be this happy." Richard put his arms around her and held her to him. He rested his cheek against her hair and let her words sink deep into his heart. "Any reason why?" he asked, trying to sound casual. "You, of course," she said. "How . . ." She pulled her head back and looked up at him. "Because you are a sweet, tender, passionate man and you treat me like you might just love me." He smiled weakly. "Indeed." She reached up and touched his mouth. "There's that smile again." "A poor one." "It's better than no smile at all. Don't grin, though. I have to be sitting down for that." She brushed past him and started down the steps. "Have a nice day, dear." "Dear? How mean you that?" he asked.

Woman, if you leave me smelling like roses . . . I'll see you regret it, he warned.

Elizabeth," Jamie began gruffly, "there is aught I would speak of with you."
She lifted an eyebrow at his lordly tone. "Go ahead."
"It may take me a few hours to accustom myself to these possible future ways, but that does not mean I am weak or stupid."
Hours? She smiled. "I know that Jamie."
"Nor does that mean I have ceased being your lord. You will obey me in all things, as always."
"Of course, Jamie," she said meekly.
"And should you demand knowledge about this or that, I would give it to you because you required it, not because I thought you didn't know the answer already."
"Of course,"Jamie said arrogantly. "There would be no other reason to question you." Elizabeth suppressed her smile and was thankful that she was riding behind him so he didn't see the twinkle in her eyes. Heavens what an ego her husband had.

Sile looked momentarily stymied, then shook his head sharply. "You wont go alone."
"I can't ask anyone--"
"You aren't asking," Sile said firmly. "I'm insisting--"
"Grandfather, nay," Runach said, stunned. "I couldn't allow it."
"Allow it?" Sile repeated, looking as if the gale were readying for another good blow. "Who do you think you are, whelp, to tell me what to do?"
"I believe, your Majesty," Aisling said quietly, "he's someone who loves you..."
Runach didn't dare smile, because his grandfather would have made the effort to get up out of his chair so he could deliver a brisk blow to the back of a grandson's head, of that he was certain.
"Besides, I'm going to go along to keep him safe."
Sile closed his eyes briefly before he leaned forward and looked at Aisling seriously. "You, my gel?"
"Me, Your Majesty."
Runach watched his grandfather look at his wife in consternation.
"Are you listening to this?" he asked in disbelief. "She isn't even spawn of mine, and yet she exhibits this unsettling 'independence'."
"I find it quite admirable, husband."
Runach pushed away from the wall and walked over to squat down by Aisling's chair. He looked up at her.
"I want you to stay here."
She looked at him for a moment or two, then reached out and touched his scarred cheek. "This is my quest, and I must see it through to the end, wherever that end might lie."
"I'll think about it," he said, and by that he mea

What is wrong with the [tale of] Two Swords?" he asked, even more surprised. "Don't you care for it?"
"There is too bloody much romance in it," she said curtly.
Ah, well, here was the crux of it, apparently. "Don't you like romance?" he ventured.
She looked as though she were trying to decide if she should weep or, as he had earlier predicted, stick him with whatever blade she could lay her, hand on. "I don't know," she said briskly.
"I see," he said, though he didn't. He wished, absently, that he'd had at least one sister. He was very well versed in what constituted courtly behavior and appropriate formal wooing practices, thanks to his father's insistence on many such lectures delivered by a dour man whose only acquaintance with women had likely come from reading about them in a book, but he had absolutely no idea how to proceed with a woman whose first instinct when faced with something that made her uncomfortable was to draw her sword.
...
"I'll stop provoking you, but I will have the answer to a question. Why do you think most men woo?"
"Because they have no sword skill and need something with which to occupy their time?

Kendrick walked over to her purposefully, hauled her up into his arms and gave her a mock frown. "I hunger, wench."
Genevieve put her arms around his neck. "Well? What are you going to hunt us for dinner?"
"I'll slay a few steaks from the freezer."
"You're so brave.

You may weep more if you wish it, he announced, feeling exceedingly generous.

Damn that woman!

If Jessica had been pleased with his work, that was enough. He had bent to his work and poured his entire soul, black as it might have been, into fashioning something beautiful for his lady. His lady. He could no longer think of her as anything else. And that was the thought that left him standing in the lists, useless and fair blinded by the thought of his poor heart being so exposed.

And she shrieked when she was lifted up and set carefully on her feet. "Are you hurt?" Richard asked anxiously. "I was just checking the floor," she said, trying to catch her breath. "You scared me to death." "You frightened me to death," he countered. "Don't just lie down thusly without warning!" "By the saints, Richard" Kendrick said with a laugh from behind Richard, "let the girl be. You'll smother her with all that mother-henning.

What's the matter? Aren't you interested in my strong, manly arms?" he said, giving her a squeeze to show just how strong and manly his arms were. "Not when they're squeezing the life from me," she gasped. "Archie, let me go!

She lifted her hand, slowly folded down her index, ring, and little fingers, then cheerfully flipped him the bird. Someone behind him laughed and he whirled around and bellowed out a curse. Maybe it had meant the same general thing in the Middle Ages. Or maybe it had been the look on her face. Whatever the case, she felt rather vindicated. She lowered her hand and smiled up at Richard, whose expression had darkened even more. His eyebrows had become a single, dark slash across his forehead. His scar was white. Even if she hadn't seen the blazing fury in his eyes, she would have known by his scar that he was livid.

You are," she said with a shake of her head, "the most incredible man I have ever met." His eyes widened briefly, then they narrowed and his lips tightened. She thought he was going to bellow at her again, when to her surprise, he swung down off his horse and stalked toward her. Before she could decide what he was up to, he had pulled her down from Horse, grasped her by the arms, and jerked her to him. "One of us is mad," he growled, "and I had thought 'twas you." And with those sweet words of wooing, he buried his hand in her hair, tilted her head, and proceeded to kiss the socks right off her.

She was sitting in a garden more beautiful than even her rampaging imagination could ever have conjured up, and she was being serenaded by trees.

He stopped and looked at her. "Your eyes are leaking."
"It's the flowers. They make me sneeze."
"Then let us be away from the garden. Open the door, love, if you will."
She obeyed, then froze halfway over the threshold. "What did you call me?"
"The first of countless endearments if you'll but stir yourself to hold our current course.

Twenty-four years of sneaking cola drinks for breakfast had finally taken its toll, and she had been tossed into sugar-induced hallucination.