Makay

“I was, er, twirling,” I said. His lips twitched. “I cannot imagine it. You must demonstrate for me.” I glared at him. “I certainly will not. It was not meant for an audience. It was just something I did because . . .” I waved my hand around, at a complete loss for words.”
― Julianne Donaldson, Edenbrooke

“I was jostled, and I pushed back harder, desperate to escape the tumult, when a hand snatched at mine. It was Philip’s, and looking over my shoulder I saw his lips move—he said something—but I couldn’t hear what. Everything was too loud and too whirling and too hot. I tripped over dancing feet, and then an arm was around my waist, and Philip pulled me out of the dance, where his mother waited with a worried expression. I sat in a chair by a window. Philip leaned over me, looking very worried, and Lady Caroline was there, too, fanning me and asking what had happened.”
― Julianne Donaldson, Edenbrooke

“A strong hand suddenly grasped my arm above the elbow. My eyes flew open in surprise. It was that hateful, arrogant man from earlier, standing a few steps below me. He looked at me with a strange expression on his face. It almost looked like . . . concern. What did he want? I tried to ask him, but the walls were falling in on me again. I closed my eyes tightly. “I think you’re about to faint,” a low voice said. Whose voice was it? It was too nice to belong to that man. I shook my head and said weakly, “I don’t faint.” And then darkness rushed up while I swooped down. We met in the middle and it swallowed me whole.”
― Julianne Donaldson, Edenbrooke

“He looked heavenward with a sigh. “Are you always this stubborn?” I thought about it for a moment. “Yes, I think I am.” Philip’s expression wavered between exasperation and amusement. Amusement won with a reluctant laugh.”
― Julianne Donaldson, Edenbrooke