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Proposal Quotes

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Proposal Quotes

“Gareth sucked in a breath. Hyacinth’s brother wasn’t going to make this easy on him. But that didn’t matter. He had vowed to do this right, and he would not be cowed. He looked up, meeting the viscount’s dark eyes with steady purpose. “I would like to marry Hyacinth,” he said. And then, because the viscount did not say anything, because he didn’t even move, Gareth added, “Er, if she’ll have me.” And then about eight things happened at once. Or perhaps there were merely two or three, and it just seemed like eight, because it was all so unexpected. First, the viscount exhaled, although that did seem to understate the case. It was more of a sigh, actually—a huge, tired, heartfelt sigh that made the man positively deflate in front of Gareth. Which was astonishing. Gareth had seen the viscount on many occasions and was quite familiar with his reputation. This was not a man who sagged or groaned. His lips seemed to move through the whole thing, too, and if Gareth were a more suspicious man, he would have thought that the viscount had said, “Thank you, Lord.” Combined with the heavenward tilt of the viscount’s eyes, it did seem the most likely translation. And then, just as Gareth was taking all of this in, Lord Bridgerton let the palms of his hands fall against the desk with surprising force, and he looked Gareth squarely in the eye as he said, “Oh, she’ll have you. She will definitely have you.” It wasn’t quite what Gareth had expected. “I beg your pardon,” he said, since truly, he could think of nothing else. “I need a drink,” the viscount said, rising to his feet. “A celebration is in order, don’t you think?” “Er…yes?” Lord Bridgerton crossed the room to a recessed bookcase and plucked a cut-glass decanter off one of the shelves. “No,” he said to himself, putting it haphazardly back into place, “the good stuff, I think.” He turned to Gareth, his eyes taking on a strange, almost giddy light. “The good stuff, wouldn’t you agree?” “Ehhhh…” Gareth wasn’t quite sure what to make of this. “The good stuff,” the viscount said firmly. He moved some books to the side and reached behind to pull out what looked to be a very old bottle of cognac. “Have to keep it hidden,” he explained, pouring it liberally into two glasses. “Servants?” Gareth asked. “Brothers.” He handed Gareth a glass. “Welcome to the family.”

“Marry me, Kiara,” he blurts out in front of everyone. “Why?” she asks, challenging him. “Because I love you,” he says, walking up to her and bending down on one knee while he takes her hand in his, “and I want to go to sleep with you every night and wake up seein’ your face every mornin’, I want you to be the mother of my children, I want to fix cars with you and eat your crappy tofu tacos that you think are Mexican. I want to climb mountains with you and be challenged by you, I want to argue with you just so we can have crazy hot makeup sex. Marry me, because without you I’d be six feet under … and because I love your family like they’re my own … and because you’re my best friend and I want to grow old with you.” He starts tearing up, and it’s shocking because I’ve never seen him cry. “Marry me, Kiara Westford, because when I got shot the only thing I was thinkin’ about was comin’ back here and makin’ you my wife. Say yes, chica.”

“Females and boys are the only creatures that propose others for friendship. As for the rest of us, friendship sort of just happens.”

“Oh honey, someday a real man is going to make you see stars and you won't even be looking at the sky." Excerpt from Grace Willow's Last Minute Bride”

“You are enough to drive a saint to madness or a king to his knees Excerpt from To Kiss a King by Grace Willows Coming this summer to Amazon Kindle and paperback.”

“Marry me, Rachel.' 'Not yet.' 'Tomorrow, Rachel. Marry me.' 'Maybe tomorrow.' 'There is no common blood between us. Say it,' pleads Zachariah. 'There is no common blood between us,' murmurs Rachel. 'I am not your brother.' 'I know.' He traces her face with his swollen fingers, across the brow bones and down the zygomatics, and along the jaw from earlobe to chin, sweeping away the brine as he goes. 'I am your Wolff,' he says. 'And I am your Wolff,' she replies. Let the day begin.”

“You have something else of mine, Miss Wakefield,” he amended. “I believe you meant to borrow it and return it directly, but you never did return . . . my heart. It’s been in your possession since our first meeting.” She drew in a staggered breath, daring to hope. “Though without a heart, one might wonder how I came to be here, standing before you right now,” he went on, making her heard spin again. “Do you wonder, Miss Wakefield?” When she nodded, he grinned and placed her hand over his chest. “There is a heart in here, but it is not mine. You see, I believe you made a dire mistake our first meeting. When you meant to return mine, instead you gave me yours. Doesn’t it beat strangely beneath my breast?”

“I want us to wake up together, to drink coffee from the same cup, to go to sleep at the same time. I want to go out with you, to show you off and around. I want us to eat dinner, then watch some hockey match together and then your melodramas. I promise I will keep your most favorite CD in my car, and we'll listen to it whenever you'll want, even when I know it will drive me insane. I want you to look at me when I am shaving in the mornings and I promise wherever we go I will always look only at you. I want to finally understand why you smell so fresh and flowery, I want to hold your hand, not under the table, but over it. I want us to cook together, to laugh together, to cry together, I want you for worse and for better. I want us to get married some day, have kids,a lot of them, then grow up and even die in one day. I want it all with you. And I get it that I haven't been around for 4 years, but if you still want me, if you still love me like you did all those years ago, I will make up for our lost time.”

“I took her in my arms and kissed her. And thus in the midst of a city of wild conflict, filled with the alarms of war; with death and destruction reaping their terrible harvest around her, did Dejah Thoris, Princess of Helium, true daughter of Mars, the God of War, promise herself in marriage to John Carter, Gentleman of Virginia.”

“If you will thank me," he replied, "let it be for yourself alone. That the wish of giving happiness to you might add force to the other inducements which led me on, I shall not attempt to deny. But your family owe me nothing. Much as I respect them, I believe I thought only of you." Elizabeth was too much embarrassed to say a word. After a short pause, her companion added, "You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged; but one word from you will silence me on this subject for ever." Elizabeth, feeling all the more than common awkwardness and anxiety of his situation, now forced herself to speak; and immediately, though not very fluently, gave him to understand that her sentiments had undergone so material a change since the period to which he alluded, as to make her receive with gratitude and pleasure his present assurances.The happiness which this reply produced was such as he had probably never felt before, and he expressed himself on the occasion as sensibly and as warmly as a man violently in love can be supposed to do.”

“Michelle, since the first day I met you I knew you were the one for me. I knew that I would make you my wife. I love waking up to your beautiful face every morning and seeing you before I close my eyes each night. I love you with everything in me, and I promise to be the man that you need for the rest of our lifetime together. Would you do me the honor of being my wife?”

“The beauty with modest smile, whose secrecy of silent love had just been stolen, beamed at this wonderful offer and she replenished herself with his love as a carefree child cossetted with luxurious warmth after a cold shower.”

“You are enough to drive a saint to madness or a king to his knees.”

“You are mistaken, Mr. Darcy, if you suppose that the mode of your declaration affected me in any other way, than as it spared the concern which I might have felt in refusing you, had you behaved in a more gentlemanlike manner." (Elizabeth Bennett)”

“Many a woman is in a relationship with or married to her man not because she loves him but only because she likes men like him.”

“Your father is waiting, so fly up that mountain and through the alomb. Find Nardukha and tell him I have upheld my end of the bargain. Now it is his turn.” He stares at me, a dangerous light in his eye, and then his gaze travels beyond me, in the direction of the funeral. My hand moves to his muscled forearm, and I squeeze it hard. “ No. ” He sneers, his hand moving quickly to catch mine. He yanks me close, his head bending to look down at me. “Zahra,” he murmurs, his voice like falling rocks. “Why do you care for these humans? For thousands of years they have enslaved you, forced you to bend and bow to their silly whims. They have mistreated you, abused you, and yet you defend them still?” He drops his morning star to cradle my head in his other hand, and he licks his lips. His fangs flash. “Come with me to Ambadya. Be my bride, as you were always meant to be.” Revulsion choking my throat, I pull away, slapping him hard across the jaw, but he barely registers the blow. “I’m not anything to you, Zhian. I never will be. You should have abandoned that notion long ago.” “I did not bargain for your life so that you could play servant to these mortals! My father would have killed you thousands of years ago, like all the other Shaitan, if I hadn’t intervened!” “I never asked you to.” He roars, and I clap my hands over my ears at the terrible sound. Somewhere behind me, a horn blasts twice. “They heard you, you fool!” I snap. “The Eristrati are coming, and their charmers will bottle you up again! Go, go !” He snarls, his hand grabbing for me, but I shift into a tiger and snarl back at him, my hackles on end. Get out of here, Zhian! Go find Nardukha and tell him I have set you free! Now he must free me. The horn blasts again. At last Zhian comes to his senses, and he pulls back, scowling. I’ll be back for you, he promises. And you and I will be joined at last, the jinn prince and his princess, unstoppable and undisputed!”

“She was a ray of sunshine, a warm summer rain, a bright fire on a cold winter’s day, and now she could be dead because she had tried to save the man she loved.”

“Some people will hate you for not loving them.”

“Marry me,' he says. 'Become the Queen of Elfhame.' I feel a cold shock come over me, as though someone has told a particularly cruel joke, with me its target. As though someone looked in to my heart and saw the most ridiculous, most childish desire there and used it against me. 'But you can't.' 'I can,' he says. 'Kings and queens don't often marry for something other than a political alliance, true, but consider this a version of that. And were you queen, you wouldn't need my obedience. You could issue all your own orders. And I would be free.”

“Yes,' I say, but my voice fails me. It comes out all breath. 'Yes.' He leans forward in the chair, eyebrows raised, but he doesn't wear his usual arrogant mien. I cannot read his expression. 'To what are you agreeing?' 'Okay,' I say. 'I'll do it. I'll marry you.' He gives me a wicked grin. 'I had no idea it would be such a sacrifice.' Frustrated, I flop over on the couch. 'That's not what I mean.' 'Marriage to the High King of Elfhame is largely thought to be a prize, an honour of which few are worthy.' I suppose his sincerity could last but only so long. I roll my eyes, grateful that he's acting like himself again, so I can better pretend not to be overawed by what's about to happen.”

“Mi dw i wedi trio peidio deud dim byd cas, achos fydda i ddim yn licio brifo teimladau neb, 'rhoswch gadwch imi orffan,' achos mi oedd o'n mynd i siarad, 'ond rhaid i mi ddeud wrthach chi, gin na 'newch chi ddim cymyd be ddeudis i wrthach chi nithiwr, 'mod i wedi'ch casau chi y tro cynta gwelis i chi… Dydw i ddim yn 'i gyfri o'n beth neis i hogan ddeud wrth neb am y cynigion mae hi wedi gwrthod, mae rhywbath yn mean yno fo, ond os na 'newch chi fynd i ffwrdd rwan, a pheidio byth a dwad yma eto i 'mhlagio i, mi fydd rhaid i mi ddeud wrth 'y nhad neu 'mrawd, er mwyn i un ohonyn nhw 'neud i chi sylweddoli 'modi o ddifri. Ella y cewch chi ryw hogan yn rhywle, er mae'n ddigon amheus gini, na welith hi ddim yn objectionable ynoch chi, chwadl chitha, ond rhaid i mi ddeud ych bod chi'n hynod o objectionable yn 'y ngolwg i.’ ‘I've tried not to say anything nasty, because I don't like to hurt anyone's feelings, please let me finish,' because now I was the one who was going to speak, 'but I have to tell you, as I tried last night, I hated you the first time I saw you… I don't think it's nice for a girl to tell anyone about the offers she's refused, there's something mean in that, but if you don't go away now, and never come here again to pester me, I'll have to tell my father or brother, so that one of them will make you realize that I’m serious. Perhaps you'll find some girl somewhere, although it's doubtful enough, who doesn’t see anything objectionable in you, strange though that sounds as I say it, but I must say that you are extremely objectionable in my eyes.”

“Mi dw i wedi trio peidio deud dim byd cas, achos fydda i ddim yn licio brifo teimladau neb, ‘rhoswch gadwch imi orffan,’ achos mi oedd o’n mynd i siarad, ‘ond rhaid i mi ddeud wrthach chi, gin na ‘newch chi ddim cymyd be ddeudis i wrthach chi nithiwr, ‘mod i wedi’ch casau chi y tro cynta gwelis i chi… Dydw i ddim yn ‘i gyfri o’n beth neis i hogan ddeud wrth neb am y cynigion mae hi wedi gwrthod, mae rhywbath yn mean yno fo, ond os na ‘newch chi fynd i ffwrdd rwan, a pheidio byth a dwad yma eto i ‘mhlagio i, mi fydd rhaid i mi ddeud wrth ‘y nhad neu ‘mrawd, er mwyn i un ohonyn nhw ‘neud i chi sylweddoli ‘modi o ddifri. Ella y cewch chi ryw hogan yn rhywle, er mae’n ddigon amheus gini, na welith hi ddim yn objectionable ynoch chi, chwadl chitha, ond rhaid i mi ddeud ych bod chi’n hynod o objectionable yn ‘y ngolwg i.’ ‘I’ve tried not to say anything nasty, because I don’t like to hurt anyone’s feelings, please let me finish,’ because now I was going to speak, ‘but I have to tell you, as I tried last night, I hated you the first time I saw you… I don’t think it’s nice for a girl to tell anyone about the offers she’s refused, there’s something mean in that, but if you don’t go away now, and never come here again to pester me, I’ll have to tell my father or brother, so that one of them will make you realize that I’m serious. Perhaps you’ll find some girl somewhere, although it’s doubtful enough, who doesn’t see anything objectionable in you, strange though that sounds as I say it, but I must say that you are extremely objectionable in my eyes.”

“Abruptly, Elliot startles us all by standing and pulling his chair back so it scrapes across the tile floor. All eyes turn to him. He gazes down at Kate for one moment and then drops to one knee beside her. Oh. My. God. He reaches for her hand, and silence settles like a blanket over the entire restaurant as everyone stops eating, stops talking, stops walking, and stares. "My beautiful Kate, I love you. Your grace, your beauty, and your fiery spirit have no equal, and you have captured my heart. Spend your life with me. Marry me." Holy shit!”

“Oh my. Molly put her hand to her no-doubt agape mouth. Oh my, oh my, oh my. After her divorce, she hadn’t thought this day would ever come again, but here it was, a second proposal. Life is funny, she thought, and she felt herself step back from the reality of her situation for a moment, lest its emotions overwhelm her and make her swoon like a damsel in those Middle English chivalric romances she taught in 10th-grade English. Yes, life was indeed funny. It had no syllabus, which was why Molly, always a diligent student, felt so unprepared for it. Life played tricks on you too, surprised you, with the biggest surprise that life, even at the nearly half-century mark, could still hold surprises. Like so: There is a man in my kitchen, a man I’m in love with, and he wants to spend the rest of his life with me. How strange and how very unconventional by its conventional, everyday setting.”

“I think I understand now what you meant when you said I have to give up my mortal qualms. And I am willing to do that. But I want you to marry me.' 'Ah.' He sat down on the couch, looking stunned with lack of sleep. 'And so you came here in the middle of the night?' 'I hope that you love me,' I tried to sound the way Oriana did when she forbade us to do things- stern, but not unkind. 'And I will try to live as the Folk do. But you ought to marry me even if neither of those things were true, because otherwise I might ruin your fun.' 'My fun?' he echoed. Then he sounded worried. Then he sounded awake. 'Whatever game you are playing with Nicasia and Cardan,' I said. 'And with me. Tell Madoc we're to be wed and tell Jude about your real intentions or I will start shaping stories of my own.' ... I realised that Locke might teach me lessons, but he wasn't going to like what I did once I learned them. 'You promised-' he began, but I cut him off. 'Not a marriage of a year and a day, either,' I said. 'I want you to love me until you die.' He blinked. 'Don't you mean until you did? Because you're sure to.' I shook my head. 'You're going to live forever. If you love me, I will become a part of your story. I will live on in that.' He looked at me in a way he'd never done before, as though evaluating me all over again. Then he nodded. 'We will marry,' he said, holding up his hand. 'On three conditions. The first is that you will tell no one about us until the coronation of Prince Dain.' That seemed like a small thing, the waiting. 'And during that time, you must not renounce me, no matter what I say or do.' I know the nature of faerie bargains. I should have heard this as the warning that it was. Instead, I was only glad that two of his conditions seemed simple enough to fulfill. 'What else?' Be bold, be bold, but not too bold, lest that your heart's blood should run cold. 'Only this,' Locke said. 'Remember we don't love the way that you do.”

“It's okay, princess. You don't have to be afraid. I didn't invite you here so I could do anything untoward to you. I promise. See, all I want is to tell you my story. And after you hear it, there's something else I want to say to you. Telling you at the Institute just wasn't going to work, y'know? Besides, I figured showing you my castle would help it sink in that what I'm saying is the truth. Oh! On a side note, this is the guy who brought you here. Good work on the kidnapping." "I'm only too happy to do anything you ask, Asahi." "Okay! What say we get to the meat of things, hm? I challenge you to a Cook-Off. If I win... ... I want you to swear you'll be my bride." "You're challenging me?" "I totally meant to do it the old-fashioned way at first, y'know? But turns out you're way more innocent about romance than I expected. So I figured challenging you to a Cook-Off would get the point across quicker.”