“He pulled her into a tight embrace. There was the sting of tears on her cheeks, but they weren't hers. He kissed the top of her head and murmured something. She didn't hear what he'd said, but that didn't matter. He was alive.Riley wanted to stay in his arms, but...”

“He kissed her temple, nuzzling her skin, and murmured again that she was the most beautiful lass in the world. They weren't just words he offered. Platitudes he didn't mean. He cared not about the scar that marred her face. In his eyes, she was the most beautiful lass he'd ever known and nothing would change that. Not a scar. Not circumstances. She was his, and he didn't give one damn what others thought.”

“He pulled the knitting away from her, throwing it in the grass, then sank down on his knees in front of her, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his head in her lap. He was shaking, she realized, and the tears were pouring down her face, onto him, as she stroked his long, silken hair and cried.She didn't care what it sounded like—the hiccupping noises, the choking sobs.Her own body was shaking, racked by the final release, and he sat back on his heels and pulled her out of the chair, into his arms, holding her so tightly that a weaker woman might break, whispering to her in Japanese, sweet, loving words, letting her cry.She was a strong woman, and her tears, so long denied, only made her stronger.His heart was pounding against hers, his hands firm and tender, pushing the hair away from her tear-drenched face. When he kissed her she couldn't breathe, and she didn't care.”

“He took her in his arms right away. "I'm so sorry," he murmured in her ear. He rocked her, saying it over and over.But no matter how many times he said it, no matter how much she knew he meant it, the words stirred around in her ear but didn't get into her brain. Sometimes he could comfort her. Sometimes he said what she needed, but today he couldn't reach her. Nothing could.”

“She flew into his arms. Held on tight as he swung her off her feet and hugged her so hard it hurt. She didn't care. She didn't want him to ever let go.”

“Lincoln closed his eyes. It seemed like the right thing to do, no matter what happened next. He closed his eyes and felt her fingertips touching his cheek, then his forehead, then his eyelids. He took a breath--ink and hand soap."I" -- he heard her whisper, closer than he expected, and shaky and strange -- "think I might be a very stupid girl."He shook his head no. Just barely. So that only someone who was holding his cheek and his neck would notice."Yes," she said, sounding closer. He didn't move, didn't open his eyes. What if he opened his eyes and she saw what she was doing?She kissed his cheek, and he let his head tip forward into her hands. She kissed his other cheek. And his chin. The groove below his bottom lip. "Stupid girl," she said near the corner of his mouth, sounding incredulous, "what could you possibly be thinking?"Lincoln found his mouth. "Perfect girl," he said so quietly that only someone with her hands in his hair and her lips all but touching his could possibly hear. "Pretty girl." He found her mouth. "Perfect." Kiss. "Magic." Kiss. "Only girl.”