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I’ll come back to you,” he whispered, not meaning to say it out loud. “And I will ravish you over breakfast, and I will never leave you alone another night of my life. ↗
Tilting her face back, he looked into her eyes. They were unfocused, unable to settle on his face. And the same terrifying feeling stole over him once again. An acute fear—a final, painful realization—that her world was one of utter blackness. At last he realized the magnitude of her blindness. He couldn’t imagine never seeing her again. It was like a death, the inevitable conclusion when someone was gone. Why it should hit him now, after all these years, he could not fathom, but it was there, and finally he understood her private hell. He’d told her he would die without sight. Selfish, arrogant bastard, concerned with his own needs, his own perversions to watch himself pleasure her, to study her as she accepted him, to watch their bodies joined. How carelessly he had said that, not thinking of Elizabeth and what she would die for. What she wanted in this life. ↗
...It’s always only ever been you. And it always will be, Beth. You have my heart. My love. And my regret that I am not the man you deserve. ↗
Jude,” she whispered as she touched his face. “I’m so frightened of this. This bind that links us. It whispers to me to take what you’re offering, but I fear the consequences. I have lived the consequences.” His fingertips traced the column of her throat down over the swells of her breasts where they lingered until her breath caught. “I am not your father, Isabella, and you are not your mother.” “I know, but—” “There are no certainties in life,” he murmured as he lowered his head and kissed the apex of her breast where her heart hammered so hard. “But I can give you this certainty. I love you. And I want you. I have wanted you for so long, and that feeling has only grown. There must be trust between us, Isabella. Passion is not enough for me. I want more from you.” “You ask for so much,” she said, then trailed off. “Not any more than I am offering you. ↗
The crimson satin lining gleamed in the firelight, and so, too, did his eyes. When he looked up at her, there was a mist to them once again. “Little magpie,” he whispered as he looked at the black onyx ring. “You gave up everything for this, didn’t you?” She nodded. “That is how much I trust you. Everything I had hidden away in that biscuit jar went to this. All my worldly goods are in that ring, Jude.” “Then I will take it and hold it close, and never give you cause for regret.” He put the ring on his index finger, and Isabella grinned. How perfect it looked—how utterly sensual. She wanted that ringed hand on her body, comforting her. Loving her. ↗
And the looks on the faces of my countrymenpassive heads bent arms at their trousers everyone guilty of not being their best of not earning their daily bread the kind of docility I had never expected from Americans even after so many years of our decline. Here was the tiredness of failure imposed on a country that believed only in its opposite. Here was the end product of our deep moral exhaustion. ↗
