Book 1 of 3 The curse of true love-sacrifice
Book 1: I never cry reading a book , although I've come close. But when you read words like these: "that tells ye that his heart still beats because ye feel it a’ thumpin’ in yer own chest. Ye know his thoughts upon ye as ye lie down to sleep, his hands on ye—through the power of his dreams alone.” This was far too personal. Had the woman no pride? She was going to get such an education in the future. She hoped the 21st century Juliet would still find her Romeo appealing. “If I were to die, he’d ken it. When he is anguished, I ken it. I look at the moon and feel the glow of it on his face. I remember the sweat of him sometimes and it makes me weep with hunger to smell him, to taste him again.” The fire crackled obnoxiously. Ewan cleared his throat. “When we were together, I wanted to press myself into him so deeply that I’d come out the other side. That’s what it is like, to be one. It’s not the bedding of a wife that binds a husband to her. That is nothing. Nothing.” She frowned for a moment, but her eyes still stared, unblinking, still seeing far beyond the flames. “Do ye know what makes me very sad for the rest of the world?” She turned back to Jilly. “For Monty especially?” Jilly shook her head. “It’s that true love is so rare a creature that it is fierce hard to find when ye’re looking for it. When ye don’t believe in it at all, it could lie down at yer feet and ye’d walk right o’er it.” How can you not feel your heart and soul. Monty and Jilly - amazing but intriguing is the infamous Wickham.