“What part of your duty am I?"He squeezed her hand. "You're the ray of sun at the center of the storm.”

“A longer pause, and the carriage came to a halt. “I see very little difference,” he finally said into the quiet. “My life is duty. Essentially.” Miranda wasn’t certain if she hurt more for him or for herself. “What part of your duty am I?” He squeezed her hand. “You’re the ray of sun at the center of the storm.” It choked her up, that image.”

“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.”

“Smite,” she asked softly, “do you have any idea what to say to me in a situation like this?”“Of course I do,” he retorted. “I have plenty of ideas.” He met her gaze ruefully. “Of course, they’re all wrong, and so I’m totally at sea.”She patted the cushion next to her. He crossed the room and lowered himself down. And then, because he didn’t seem inclined to do it himself, she picked up his hand and slid it around her shoulders.”

“I knew the instant Margaret spoke that she intended to use me as a weapon. What you fail to understand is this: I am her weapon to use.”

“Be quiet, Ash. I am trying to remember you.”In the lamplight, shadows collected on his face as his eyebrows drew down. He must have taken her meaning, because he shook his head. “Well. I am trying to have you.” His voice was fiercely possessive. “Not for one night, nor even two. I want you every evening—mine outright, not a few hours stolen here or there. I want you during the day, on my arm. I want to know that when we’re apart you’re missing me; I want to know when we’re together, I’m the one who puts the smile on your face.” He punctuated each phrase with a kiss—against her chin, the line of her jaw, the hollow of her neck.”

“Her lips found his and a stab of exquisite desire shot through him. This is what he's been waiting for all this time. Not a stolen embrace. A gift, freely given. One that he would keep forever in some small part of his soul.”