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Quote by Melody Lee

“Off the Santorini cliff on a dark, starless night, I tossed a message in a bottle and love found me washed up on the black lava sand of the Aegean shore. As with my previous loves, volcanic in nature. Almost destructive before it started.”

Quote by Melody Lee

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Moon Gypsy

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Melody Lee

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“Cicadas," Poppy said. "This is the only place you'll see them in England. They're usually found only in the tropics. Only a male cicada makes that noise- it's said to be a mating song." "How do you know he's not commenting on the weather?" Sending him a provocative sideways glance, Poppy murmured, "Well, mating is rather a male preoccupation, isn't it?" Harry smiled. "If there's a more interesting subject," he said, "I have yet to discover it.”

“Poppy," she murmured, "no matter how Miss Marks tries to civilize me- and I do try to listen to her- I still have my own way of looking at the world. To me, people are scarcely different from animals. We're all God's creatures, aren't we? When I meet someone, I know immediately what animal they would be. When we first met Cam, for example, I knew he was a fox." "I suppose Cam is somewhat fox-like," Poppy said, amused. "What is Merripen? A bear?" "No, unquestionably a horse. And Amelia is a hen." "I would say an owl." "Yes, but don't you remember when one of our hens in Hampshire chased after a cow that had strayed too close to the nest? That's Amelia." Poppy grinned. "You're right." "And Win is a swan." "Am I also a bird? A lark? A robin?" "No, you're a rabbit." "A rabbit?" Poppy made a face. "I don't like that. Why am I a rabbit?" "Oh, rabbits are beautiful soft animals who love to be cuddled. They're very sociable, but they're happiest in pairs." "But their timid," Poppy protested. "Not always. They're brave enough to be companions to many other creatures. Even cats and dogs." "Well," Poppy said in resignation, "it's better than being a hedgehog, I suppose." "Miss Marks is a hedgehog," Beatrix said in a matter-of-fact tone that made Poppy grin. "And you're a ferret, aren't you, Bea?" "Yes. But I was leading to a point." "Sorry, go on." "I was going to say that Mr. Rutledge is a cat. A solitary hunter. With an apparent taste for rabbit.”

“... Mr. Rutledge, I've just been through a very difficult experience. This is too soon." "You were courted by a boy, who had to do as he was told." His hot breath feathered against her lips as he whispered, "You should try it with a man, who needs no one's permission." A man. Well, he certainly was that. "I don't have the luxury of waiting," Harry continued. "Not when you're so hell-bent on going back to Hampshire. You're the reason I'm here tonight, Poppy. Believe me, I wouldn't have come otherwise.”

“It's one of the things Cam and I discussed last evening- he said it's characteristic of Hathaway women, this need for demonstrations of affection." Amused and fascinated, Poppy made a face. "What else did he say?" Harry's mood altered with quicksilver speed. He threw her a dazzling grin. "He compared it to working with Arabian horses... they're responsive, quick, but they need their freedom. You never master an Arabian... you become its companion." He paused. "At least, I think that's what he said. I was half dead from exhaustion, and we were drinking brandy." "That sounds like Cam." Poppy raised her gaze heavenward. "And after dispensing this advice, he sent you to me, the horse." Harry stopped and pulled her against him, nudging her braid aside to kiss her neck. "Yes," he whispered. "And what a nice ride it was.”

“Let me be your big brother, Harry had told Catherine at their last meeting in Hampshire, making it clear that he wanted to attempt the kind of familial relationship they had never been capable of before. With no small amount of unease. Catherine reflected that she was about to test his claim far sooner than either of them could have expected. And they were still practically strangers. But Harry had altered greatly during the short time of his marriage to Poppy. He was far kinder and warmer now, and certainly willing to think of Catherine as something more than an inconvenient half sister who didn't belong anywhere.”

“The stranger contemplated her for a moment. "Shall I send for a housemaid to accompany you?" Poppy's first inclination was to agree. But she didn't want to wait here with him, even for a few minutes. She didn't trust him in the least. As he saw her indecision, his mouth twisted sardonically. "If I were going to molest you," he pointed out, "I would have done so by now." Her flush deepened at his bluntness. "So you say. But for all I know, you could be a very slow molester." He looked away for a moment, and when he glanced back at her, his eyes were bright with amusement. "You're safe, Miss Hathaway." His voice was rich with unspent laughter. "Really. Let me send for a maid." The glow of humor changed his voice, imparting such warmth and charm that Poppy was almost startled. She felt her heart begin to pump some new and agreeable feeling through her body.”

“I have questions," she said. "Ask away." Poppy decided to be blunt. "Are you dangerous? Everyone says you are." "To you? No." "To others?" Harry shrugged innocently. "I'm a hotelier. How dangerous could I be?" Poppy gave him a dubious glance, not at all deceived. "I may be gullible, Harry, but I'm not brainless. You know the rumors... you're well aware of your reputation. Are you as unscrupulous as you're made out to be?" Harry was quiet for a long moment, his gaze fixed on a distant cluster of blossoms. The sun threw its light into the filter of branches, scattering leaf shadows over the pair in the arbor. Eventually he lifted his head and looked at her directly, his eyes greener than the sun struck rose leaves. "I'm not a gentleman," he said. "Not by birth, and not by character. Very few men can afford to be honorable while trying to make a success of themselves. I don't lie, but I rarely tell everything I know. I'm not a religious man, nor a spiritual one. I act in my own interests, and I make no secret of it. However, I always keep my side of a bargain, I don't cheat, and I pay my debts." Pausing, Harry fished in his coat pocket, pulled out a penknife, and reached up to cut a rose in full bloom. After neatly severing the stem, he occupied himself with stripping the thorns with the sharp little blade. "I would never use physical force against a woman, or anyone weaker than myself. I don't smoke, take snuff, or chew tobacco. I always hold my liquor. I don't sleep well. And I can make a clock from scratch." Removing the last thorn, he handed the rose to her, and slipped the knife back into his pocket. Poppy concentrated on the satiny pink rose, running her fingers along the top edges of the petals.”

“She twisted her betrothal ring around her finger. Although the current fashion was for diamond clusters, or colored stones, Harry had bought her a single rose-cut diamond, shaped at the top with facets that mimicked the inner spiral of a rose. "I asked for something small and simple," she had told Harry when he had given it to her. "It's simple," he countered. "But not small." "Poppy," he had told her with a smile, "I never do anything in a small way.”

“Her stomach dropped as she heard someone entering the apartments. She took a deep breath, and another, and waited until Harry's broad-shouldered form appeared in the doorway. He paused, watching her, his features impassive. His cravat had been removed, the shirt opened to reveal the strong line of his throat. Poppy steeled herself not to move as Harry approached her. He reached out to touch her shining hair, letting it slide through his fingers like liquid fire. "I've never seen it down before," he said. He was close enough that she could smell a hint of shaving soap, and the tang of champagne on his breath. His fingers smoothed over her cheek, detecting the trembling within her stillness. "Afraid?" he asked softly. Poppy forced herself to meet his gaze. "No." "Maybe you should be. I'm much nicer to people who are afraid of me." "I doubt that," she said. "I think the opposite is true." A smile touched his lips.”