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

“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 you’re not gratified, you should be,” he told her as he tucked the letter back in the breast pocket of his jacket. “All the other members of my staff were running around like panicked rabbits without you.”“But not you, I am sure.”“I was too astonished to panic.”

“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.”

“He likes you,” Miss Dove said, sounding surprised.“Yes,” Harry answered with an unhappy sigh. He had long ago accepted the fact that cats adored him. The reason, of course, was because both God and cats had the same perverse sense of humor. When the animal buried its claws in his thigh and began to knead with happy abandon, he set his jaw and bore it. “Mr. Pigeon? Rather fitting for you to choose that name, Miss Dove. Both birds, you know.”

“Marry me and make an honest man of me in my butler’seyes.” 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.”