Be the celebrators, celebrate! Already there is too much__he flowers have bloomed, the birds are singing, the sun is there in the sky__elebrate it! You are breathing and you are alive and you have consciousness, celebrate it!
She closed her eyes and listened to the drone of bees as they moved lazily among the flowering bursts of deep pink hydrangea and delicate tendrils of sweet pea that wound through the basket-bed borders. Although she was still very weak, it was pleasant to sit in warm lethargy, half-drowsing like a cat.She was slow to respond when she heard a sound from the doorway... a single light rap, as if the visitor was reluctant to disrupt her reverie with a loud knock. Blinking her sun-dazzled eyes, Annabelle remained sitting with her legs tucked beneath her. The mass of light speckles gradually faded from her vision, and she found herself staring at Simon Hunt's dark, lean form. He had leaned part of his weight on the doorjamb, bracing a shoulder against it in an unselfconsciously rakish pose. His head was slightly tilted as he considered her with an unfathomable expression.Annabelle's pulse escalated to a mad clatter. As usual, Hunt was dressed impeccably, but the gentlemanly attire did nothing to disguise the virile energy that seemed to emanate from him. She recalled the hardness of his arms and chest as he had carried her, the touch of his hands on her body... oh, she would never be able to look at him again without remembering!"You look like a butterfly that's just flown in from the garden," Hunt said softly.
Secrets of a Summer Night
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She closed her eyes and listened to the drone of bees as they moved lazily among the flowering bursts of deep pink hydrangea and delicate tendrils of sweet pea that wound through the basket-bed borders. Although she was still very weak, it was pleasant to sit in warm lethargy, half-drowsing like a cat.She was slow to respond when she heard a sound from the doorway... a single light rap, as if the visitor was reluctant to disrupt her reverie with a loud knock. Blinking her sun-dazzled eyes, Annabelle remained sitting with her legs tucked beneath her. The mass of light speckles gradually faded from her vision, and she found herself staring at Simon Hunt's dark, lean form. He had leaned part of his weight on the doorjamb, bracing a shoulder against it in an unselfconsciously rakish pose. His head was slightly tilted as he considered her with an unfathomable expression.Annabelle's pulse escalated to a mad clatter. As usual, Hunt was dressed impeccably, but the gentlemanly attire did nothing to disguise the virile energy that seemed to emanate from him. She recalled the hardness of his arms and chest as he had carried her, the touch of his hands on her body... oh, she would never be able to look at him again without remembering!"You look like a butterfly that's just flown in from the garden," Hunt said softly.
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The flower, as he saw it, ruled over evil; it absorbed in itself all innocently shed blood (that is why it is so red) all tears and all the gall of humanity. It was an awful and mysterious being, the antitheses of God, an Ahriman presenting a most unassuming and innocent appearance. It was necessary to break it off and kill it. But this was not all; it was also necessary not to permit it at its death to discharge its evil upon the world.
I have a proposition for you,_ she said, trying for a businesslike tone. __ very sensible one. You see__ She paused to clear her throat. ____e been thinking about your problem._ __hat problem?_ Cam played lightly with the folds of her skirts, watching her face ale
One never knows what fate has in store._ Turning toward Rohan, Amelia discovered he was glancing over her in a slow inventory that spurred her heart into a faster beat. __ don__ believe in fate,_ she said. __eople are in control of their own destinies._ Rohan smiled. __veryone, even the gods, are helpless in the hands of fate._ Amelia regarded him skeptically. __urely you, being employed at a gaming club, know all about probability and odds. Which means you can__ rationally give credence to luck or fate or anything of the sort._ __ know all about probability and odds,_ Rohan agreed. __evertheless, I believe in luck._ He smiled with a quiet smolder in his eyes that caused her breath to catch. __ believe in magic and mystery, and dreams that reveal the future. And I believe some things are written in the stars _ or even in the palm of your hand._ Mesmerized, Amelia was unable to look away from him. He was an extraordinarily beautiful man, his skin as dark as clover honey, his black hair falling over his forehead in a way that made her fingers twitch with the urge to push it back. __o you believe in fate too?_ she asked Merripen. A long hesitation. ____ a Roma,_ he said. Which meant yes. __ood Lord, Merripen. I__e always thought of you as a sensible man._ Rohan laughed. __t__ only sensible to allow for the possibility, Miss Hathaway. Just because you can__ see or feel something doesn__ mean it can__ exist.
His eyes were above hers, and she saw that the golden-hazel irises were rimmed with black. __iss Hathaway _ you__e quite certain fate had no hand in our meeting tonight?_ She couldn__ seem to breathe properly. __u-quite certain._ His head bent low. __nd in all likelihood we__l never meet again?_ __ever._ He was too large, too close. Nervously Amelia tried to marshal her thoughts, but they scattered like spilled matchsticks _ and then he set fire to them as his breath touched her cheek. __ hope you__e right. God help me if I should ever have to face the consequences._ __f what?_ Her voice was faint. __his._ His hand slid to the back of her neck and his mouth covered hers.
You__l have me,_ Cam whispered. __ou__l have me, hummingbird. I__ your fate_ even if you won__ admit it yet.