Denise

“Royce understood then why she had come: she had come to finish the task her relatives had begun; to do to him what he had done to her brother. Unmoving, he watched her, noting that tears were pouring down her beautiful face as she slowly bent down. But instead of reaching for his lance or her dagger, she took his hand between both of hers and pressed her lips to it. Through his daze of pain and confusion, Royce finally understood that she was kneeling to him, and a groan tore from his chest: "Darling," he said brokenly, tightening his hand, trying to make her stand, "don't do this…"
But his wife wouldn't listen. In front of seven thousand onlookers, Jennifer Merrick Westmoreland, countess of Rockbourn, knelt before her husband in a public act of humble obeisance, her face pressed to his hand, her shoulders wrenched with violent sobs. By the time she finally arose, there could not have been many among the spectators who had not seen what she had done. Standing up, she stepped back, lifted her tear-streaked face to his, and squared her shoulders.
Pride exploded in Royce's battered being—because, somehow, she was managing to stand as proudly—as defiantly—as if she had just been knighted by a king.”
― Judith McNaught, A Kingdom of Dreams

“She had thought Raymond handsome. But the Raven was something beyond handsome. Beyond gallant manners and teasing glances. He was like the old, old stories, like the unknown man who waited on a darkened hill, the mist around him, hand outstretched ...
In the stories, if a woman went to him... she did not return.
But she wanted to go ...
She wanted.”
― Laura Kinsale, Shadowheart

“Will you be my conscience, hellcat?” He sounded amused.
“I do not jest,” she said.
He held back her hair and traced his forefinger along her temple. “Nor I. I am in dire need of one.”
― Laura Kinsale, Shadowheart

“She held the ring in her palm, looking down at it. When she turned it in her hand, she saw for the first time that there were letters engraved on the inner curve as well as the outside. She tilted it to the light.

A vila mon Coeur, it said in French.
A vila mon Coeur. Gardi li mo.

She closed her eyes, curling her fingers tight around the ring, and bowed her head with a whimper of despair.

Here is my heart. Guard it well.”
― Laura Kinsale, Shadowheart