Quotessence
Home / Authors / Hannah E. Carey Biography

Hannah E. Carey Biography

Author

Related Quotes

“As she placed the stack near the other clothing, she glanced over her shoulder to see Brynn fiddling with the end of her braid. "Rhiannon, I don't mean to pry, but would you like some help with your hair?" Rhiannon sent her a wry, half smile. "It's that noticeable, is it?" "Well," Brynn paused, dipping her chin as she shoved her hands in her pockets, "not really... mostly." "I'm hopeless, you can say it," Rhiannon laughed. "Yes, please, I would appreciate any help you can give. My handmaidens always took care of such things and I never had any sense to learn to do it myself.”

“Hesitantly, he brushed back a few errant strands of her hair, his hand resting along the side of her face. "You have no idea how much I wish I could change thing." "I think I might," she whispered. His gaze dropped to her lips, causing her heart to race even faster. When he lowered his head, she held her breath, the memories of their first and only kiss flooding her, a kiss that seemed like it was a lifetime ago. She wanted to experience that again, to feel his lips on hers. She held perfectly still as he closed the distance between them, her breath catching. When his lips pressed against hers, his touch was soft, exquisite and tender, stirring a fire within her that she had never felt before. She pressed herself closer to him as he worked a hand into her hair. She wanted more of him. More of the precious connection between them that made her blood heat even as it filled her with an indescribable rightness. But almost as soon as their exploration of one another had begun, he pulled away, his breathing ragged and his expression pained. "I can't," he softly said, his voice coming out strangled. "I'm sorry. I just... I can't do this.”

“He watched her again while she worked, his gaze unnervingly intense. Once the tea was steeped, she walked back over with it, passing him the mug. “Here,” she said. “This will help.” He nodded slowly, taking it from her as she sat down in a nearby chair. “You’re not what I expected.” “Let me guess.” She raised a brow, trying to feign indifference. “You expected the woman who sold her soul to Pysgod, becoming so cursed that she could not even bear her own children and then, in her rage, tried to murder the Ri of Ceffyl?” He cleared his throat, dropping his gaze to the floor. “Something like that.” “Be careful when you only hear the word of one man.”

“Are you alright?" he asked. "I'm fine," she said, letting out a noisy breath. "I'm just winded, I'm not that fragile." "You've never been fragile," he replied, holding her gaze. "But something is bothering you." She shook her head, biting her lip as she stared down at her boots. "I'm fine, Niall." "You're certain?" "I'm certain." He dared to risk taking a few steps closer to her. trying to calm his pounding heart as he took her hands in his. "Are you sure this is what you want?" She looked away, a sad smile crossing her face. "I don't even know what I want anymore." A lump settled in his throat. He should leave, shouldn't press whatever was still between them, but he couldn't. Not while looking at the pained expression on her face. "You know that I'm always here for you," he said, inwardly chastising himself for his foolishness as soon as the words slipped out. She held his gaze, a haunted look in her eyes. "Are you?" The simple question cut him to his core, leaving behind a physical ache, one that grew when he thought of how much he hadn't been there for her, not like he had wanted to be. Not like he had hoped.”

“The door opened to reveal Odran on the other side. His hair was slightly tousled and he still looked half asleep, blinking rapidly as he looked down at her. "Well," he said. "This is a surprise. Is this a personal or professional visit?" "Professional." She held up her hand with a tentative smile. "I'm afraid I require your services." He leaned against the door frame, flashing her a smile that reminded her far too much of Niall. "Why, Ciara," he said, "if you wanted to see me that badly, all you had to do was ask.”

“He turned on his heel, calling to Rhew as he hurried down the shadowy hallway. The wolf trotted along to catch up with him, but he wasn't fast enough. An all too familiar voice called his name. A voice he had always struggled to say no to. Taking a deep breath, he turned and faced Ciara. Longing and heartache warred within him at the sight of her, leaving his chest tight. She was wearing a light green, gauzy gown, the color reminding him of the young grass that would blanket the valleys every spring. Her dark hair had been piled on top of her head, a few wavy locks left down to frame her face, while her diamond studded hair pins glittered in the torch light. She was breathtaking and he was caught in her gaze, unable to look away. "Maura said you weren't feeling well," she said, her movements tentative as she closed the distance between them. He cleared his throat, wetting his lips. "Yes, I... the afternoon took much out of me." She tilted her head to the side, her full lips pursing. His gaze dropped to them, his breath hitching. Lips that you have no business focusing on, he reminded himself, slightly shaking his head. "But you're feeling better now?" she asked. "Considerably." He paused, glancing behind her to see if anyone was coming up the steps. "Is dinner over already?" She looked away, biting her lip and fidgeting with her pearl bracelet. "I left early," she answered. "I found that I wasn't quite up to the company." Her words were hollow, leaving a dull ache in his chest.”

“Nonsense," Brynn waved her off, "You'll be family soon enough. Come, have a seat. Odran and Doran and working and I sent Macsen to the market with Quinn, so I'm afraid you'll only have me for company." "You're always my favorite company," Niall said with a cheeky grin. "And my favorite aunt." Brynn rolled her eyes, but the amusement in her expression made Ciara want to laugh. "I'm your only aunt," she said, swatting lightly at him.”

“Do you ever wish things could be different?" she asked, fidgeting with her reins. His heart began to race, a jolt passing through his body as part of him longed to cling to the few shreds of hope he had left. "Sometimes. Do you ever wish that?" "I feel like I find myself wishing for it far too often lately," she said, her voice so soft that he had to strain to hear it.”

“Goodnight," he awkwardly told her. She didn't respond. Her eyes opened and she looked intently out the dark window as he turned to the door where Dai waited. "Are you going to kill me?" she asked softly. Conor grimaced; of course she had overheard their conversation. He kept his back to her, resting a hand on the door. Every time he entertained the thought, he went back to the conversation with Idris before the older man had left for Vara. Idris had ardently argued that if he could win the loyalty of his daughter, it would be certain to change the tide of the war. Conor glanced back at her, noticing the fear in her blue eyes--- eyes that reminded him of Idris. "No," he quietly said before exiting the room, the door banging shut behind him.”