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Quote by T.R. Darling

“He slipped her the inkwell. "This one is full of forbidden, outlawed words," he whispered. "Make sure you clean your pen when you're done.”

Quote by T.R. Darling

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T.R. Darling

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“Sunshine... The sun is shining brightly, Its golden light covered the entire house.. A cool breeze blows from the terrace, This time, the room conveyed a special feeling.. Two cups of cappuccino, vanilla biscuits and the smell of incense that was scattered.. But the only thing that made the room more beautiful was you.. I looked at your shining face, Your short brown hair was golden under the warm sunlight, your beautiful eyes sparkled, your cheeks were red and your pastel lips looked so soft... I don't know what beauty means anymore...! For me, you are the meaning of beauty.. but how..? How can you.. be so beautiful...?”

“Memory.. Some things never change, Like the first time I saw you, And the feeling I had After gazing into your brown eyes, The shiver your look sent through me, The smell of the sea and the sound of its waves As we strolled calmly along the shore, The words we exchanged, The love that was evident in every word we spoke... But in the end, "The boy who gave up everything; Decided; Instead of floating in the sky, Fall to the ground..." And you are still alive in my memories.”

“Harry paused with his fork held in midair, mesmerized by the sight of her slim fingers twirling the honey stick, meticulously filling each hole with thick umber liquid. Realizing that he was staring, Harry took a bite of his breakfast. Poppy replaced the honey stick in a small silver pot. Discovering a stray drop of sweetness on the tip of her thumb, she lifted it to her lips and sucked it clean. Harry choked a little, reached for his tea, and took a swallow. The beverage scalded his tongue, causing him to flinch and curse. Poppy gave him an odd look. "Is there anything the matter?" Nothing. Except that watching his wife eating breakfast was the most erotic act he had ever seen. "Nothing at all," Harry said scratchily. "Tea's hot." When he dared to look at Poppy again, she was consuming a fresh strawberry, holding it by the green stem. Her lips rounded in a luscious pucker as she bit neatly into the ripe flesh of the fruit. Christ. He moved uncomfortably in his chair, while all the unsatisfied desire of the previous night reawakened with a vengeance. Poppy ate two more strawberries, nibbling slowly, while Harry tried to ignore her. Heat collected beneath his clothing, and he used a napkin to blot his forehead. Poppy lifted a bite of honey-soaked crumpet to her mouth, and gave him a perplexed glance. "Are you feeling well?" "It's too warm in here," Harry said irritably, while lurid thoughts went through his mind. Thoughts involving honey, and soft feminine skin, and moist pink-”

“Do you like novels?" He shook his head. "I usually read for information, not entertainment." "You disapprove of reading for pleasure?" "No, it's just that I don't often manage to find the time for it." "Perhaps that's why you don't sleep well. You need an interlude between work and bedtime." There was a dry, perfectly timed pause before Harry asked, "What would you suggest?" Aware of his meaning, Poppy felt a bloom of color emerge from head to toe. Harry seemed to enjoy her discomfiture, not in a mocking way, but as if he found her charming.”

“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.”