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Quote by Frances Hodgson Burnett

“When she was his companion, her father had always felt himself stirred to interest and enterprise. "You ought to have been a man, Betty," he used to say to her sometimes. But Betty had not agreed with him. "You say that," she once replied to him, "because you see I am inclined to do things, to change them if they need changing. Well, one is either born like that or one is not. Sometimes I think that perhaps the people who must act are of a distinct race, a kind of vigorous restlessness drives them. I remember that when I was a child I could not see a pin lying upon the ground without picking it up or pass a drawer which needed closing without giving it a push. But there has always been as much for women to do as there is for men.”

Quote by Frances Hodgson Burnett

Work

The Shuttle

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Author

Frances Hodgson Burnett
Frances Hodgson Burnett

Frances Hodgson Burnett was an English playwright known for her rich imagination and delicate emotional descriptions. Her works spanned various genres including drama, novels, and poetry, with her most famous works being 'Little Women' and 'The Secret Garden'. Born on November 24, 1849, she passed away on October 29, 1924. more

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“Lily Chadwick knew there was something different about the fiercely scowling gentleman the first moment she saw him. She could feel it. The instant their gazes met, caught, held, something skittered across her skin like a rain of white sparks. It entered her bloodstream, heating her from the inside until her breath became stilted and her knees went alarmingly weak. He stared at her from beneath a brow drawn low in a forbidding expression. His eyes were so dark, even the light of the glittering ballroom could not be reflected there. The angles of his face were hard, his jaw sharply defined, and he held his mouth in a harsh line that attempted to harden the full curve of his lower lip but didn't quite manage it. Lily tried to glance away demurely, but she couldn't seem to manage. She felt a flutter that became a tightening in her belly. Her heart stopped, skipped a few beats, then started up again in a frantic rhythm as he just kept watching her. Despite his severe, aloof appearance, something about him reached out to her, touching her with an intrinsic sort of recognition. It left her feeling as though she stood in the heart of a firestorm. She sensed with a certainty beyond rational explanation that his unyielding manner was a facade, as if he were a hero in some gothic novel. There was passion in him. She felt it in every quickened, prey-like breath she took while frozen under his intent stare. The silent interaction between them was becoming more inappropriate by the minute, yet she could not compel herself to break away. As though caught in an invisible trap, she stared back at him while her hands began to sweat and her stomach trembled.”

“She refused to feel guilty for not talking to Portia about the Earl of Harte. She couldn't discuss what she didn't understand, and she had no idea what to think of the man with the forbidding gaze. Avenell Slade. Lily snuggled deeper beneath her blankets. She loved the way his name felt moving through her mind. It was sharp and smooth at the same time. Dark and light. Lily knew she was no great beauty. She did not have Portia's dramatic dark hair or flashing eyes. Nor did she have Emma's commanding presence. She did her best to be content with her place among her exceptional sisters. But now, after experiencing Lord Harte's painful slight, she found herself wishing she stood out more, that she was somehow more attractive, more striking. She should forget him. Put him completely from her mind. He had made it infinitely clear he did not welcome her interest. Yet, she wanted to know him. It was that simple and that impossible. A hollowness spread from Lily's center. It was a sensation she had experienced more than once since she had begun her foray into the marriage market. It was the fear that what she sought might never be found- that the kind of deep passion she yearned for existed only in sordid novels. As thoughts of Lord Harte continued to agitate her mind and created a growing restlessness in her body, Lily imagined an often-read scene from one of her favorite stories. It was frighteningly easy to cast the enigmatic Lord Harte in the role of dark seducer, but she struggled to envision herself as the intrepid heroine. Lily did not possess a bold bone in her body. By nature, she had always been rather shy and had never been able to cultivate the kind of self-confidence her sisters possessed. Though she may crave the passionate experiences she read about, she did not possess the courage to explore such things beyond the privacy of her mind.”

“Tell me you did not spend all those nights with her and never spread her thighs to claim your prize.” A growl of fury rumbled from his chest at the crudity in her words, but the sound did not seem to bother Pendragon one bit. She actually laughed at his response. “Of course you did, my lord, as I knew you would. It was the final barrier you had yet to cross in your search for pleasure.” “It signifies nothing.” Her green eyes glittered. “It means everything.” The woman turned away from him and strode toward the chair he had recently vacated. With a swish of her skirts, she turned and lowered herself gracefully. Tipping her head, she looked at him with a superior little half smile. “What did you feel when you took possession of your gentle maiden?” Her words might have been mocking if not for her expression, which had settled into one of patient nonjudgemnet. It was the same way she had looked at him the first time he had gone to her. “Think carefully. What did you feel?” Avenell’s gut tensed as he involuntarily recalled the sensations of being burned within Lily’s warmth and softness. He relived in his mind the way their naked bodies moved together, heard her endless gasps and moans echo, felt the overwhelming heat, the pervading pleasure. Every time they came together it was intense and consuming, obliterating everything else in existence. That was the problem. He always felt too much with her. And despite that, he had never been able to shake his yearning for more.”

“But she noticed something interesting. His hands. They stretched tensely then curled into tight fists before extending again, the pattern repeating over and over as he walked away. After he climbed into the darkness of the vehicle and waited for the footman to close the door behind him, he looked up at her from the deep shadows. The angles of his face were hard and forbidding, his mouth set in a firm line, but his eyes... They focused in on her, consuming her despite the distance between them. Lily's lips parted to draw a swift breath. The flame inside her fanned to a full blaze. She could swear she saw a sort of hunger in his eyes.”

“He saw the fear in Miss Chadwick's unfocused eyes and the bright spark of rebellion. In the next moment, Miss Chadwick's wavering gray gaze found him in the far reaches of the room. And when her eyes locked with his, she refused to let go. He could no more look away from her than he could unleash the moon from its orbit. There was only one thing he could do. Speaking in a loud, clear tone, he entered the fray with a firmly stated offer that nearly tripled the last bid. His competition turned to glare at him for how suddenly he had brought an end to the entertainment. No one was willing to top such an exorbitant price. Avenell ignored them all. He was far too busy battling an intense internal war between disgust at what she had been subjected to and an alarming thread of triumph. Because no matter how they had both ended up here, no matter how wrong this all was... the woman who had been tormenting him for weeks now belonged to him.”

“She took a long drink and then another before lowering the glass. She thought she heard him give a sound of approval before he turned and claimed a seat in one of the chairs. Her courage strengthened, Lily lifted her chin to look at him only a few feet away and swallowed hard past the knot of doubt lodged in her throat. Dressed in elegant evening wear, he sat with his back stiff and straight despite the plush cushion of the chair. His knees were spread and his feet braced squarely on the floor. His hands, with his long masculine fingers, splayed on the surface of strong thighs. He was the epitome of masculine sophistication and mystery. Dark, enigmatic, handsome, and intense.”

“As if he knew what she had experience, he dipped his chin and continued to stare at her from beneath heavy brows. "Your breasts are very sensitive." Lily knew it must be so, because his very mention of them made her nipples tighten even more, her breasts heavy and aching. She loved the way his rich, masculine voice made her body melt and her thoughts go languid. "I promise to discover just how sensitive they can be," he added thickly. "You are very beautiful." Something squeezed tight in her chest. "I am... quite ordinary." A new darkness shadowed his features, and it was unlike the hunger with which she was becoming familiar. "You are far from ordinary.”