Best 9 quotes of Jamie Carie on MyQuotes

Astonishing. Drake had thought himself experienced. How humbling to learn he had only known the physical, never this joining of souls hat had somehow, miraculously happened with Serena. What magic did she possess? In the face of her sweet generosity, he felt the hard edges of his self-possession crumble. There was no room for the shroud of protection he had worn as effortlessly as his own skin for as long as he could remember. In the face of her love it melted, giving way to flesh and flesh, blood and blood. Left in its place was a sense of awe that this act of loving could be so humble- and yet so core deep. He would never look at marriage the same way. Those few he'd seen that had seemed so connected... now he knew. Now he knew love. And nothing would ever be the same.

Drake stood speechless. Admiration- and something else Serena could not quite identify, pride perhaps- showing from his eyes. "Turn around," his deep voice commanded softly. "I would see all of you." She turned slowly, holding back a delighted laugh. Her gown was gold, the color of the amber flecks in her eyes, with a green-and-gold-striped underskirt and matching puffed sleeves. Emeralds hung from her ears, swaying provocatively and catching the candlelight from the wall scones. A choker wrapped around her neck and tiny tear-shaped jewels sparkled from her hair. It had taken the combined urgings of her personal maid and the housekeeper to convince her it was acceptable to wear such a low-cut gown in public. Elegant gloves covered her arms to the elbows with an emerald and gold bracelet on one wrist and a Chinese fan dangling from the other. "I knew you would be beautiful dressed as my duchess, but Serena, I am speechless. The men will adore you and the women will envy you." He spoke the last in an underbreath, as though to himself.

Drake took in the grove of poplar and chestnut trees standing to one side of the cabin, providing a warmer shade than the mountains. At their feet spread a carpet of abundant wildflowers blooming with early color. Chicory with its blue-fringed petals stood proudly on long spindly stems, seeming to wave at them in welcome. Purple spiderwort and common mullein dotted the landscape. Nearer the cabin was a cluster of showy orchids, bloomed out in purple and white.

Her gaze fell on his lips, and she remembered the ointment in her basket. She bit her lower lip. Dare she? A small smile formed on the man's mouth, and Serena reared back. Could he read her mind? Of course not, she chided herself. He was probably just feeling better- he'd certainly needed the water he had been able to ingest. Slowly, so as not to disturb his sleep, she leaned toward the basket on the floor and rummaged through it until her fingers wrapped around a little clay pot. It was in her lap and opened before she realized she had made her decision. She looked down at the ointment. Normally, she would have given it to the patient and allowed him to apply it himself, but this man clearly could not manage that. She dipped her finger into the pot before she could convince herself otherwise, the soothing smells of lemon and beeswax filling the space around them. Her hand stretched out toward his face, her heart pounding. What if he woke? How would she explain what she was doing? She dabbed a bit on his lower lip and sat back to see what response he would have. Nothing. He slept on. She nodded. She was a nurse; she could do this. Leaning in again, she quickly spread the ointment across his bottom lip. He moved his head away, as if avoiding a fly, but didn't wake. Determined to finish the job, she reached for the upper lip, which wasn't quite as chapped. It was softer and curved, dark rose in color with an indention in the middle that must be sinful, it was so well shaped. Her heart pounded in her chest and her breath quickened as she spread the ointment across the top of his upper lip. She halted, realizing how close she had leaned in, how deep her breathing had become... When had she closed her eyes? Heaven help her, she wanted to kiss him. "You can, you know." At first she didn't know if the deep voice had come from the man or some other being in the room, so deep and quiet and inside her head it was. Her eyelids shot open as she straightened. "Can what?" "Kiss me." He smiled, but didn't open his eyes. Serena gasped, "Thee has been awake this entire time?" One of his shoulders lifted. "I didn't think it would help my cause-" he paused pressing his lips together, as though struggling to stay conscious- "for you to realize that.

He wanted her. The girl stood speechless before him, and Drake decided to have pity on her. She had, after all, saved his life. She was the one. His light. He recognized her in a way that was deeper even than her voice. "I beg your pardon. I haven't much to be happy about at present, but that has nothing to do with you." He smiled at her again and saw the light in her eyes change. She was so easy to read, so vulnerable and innocent. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen such open sweetness. "You have brought me back from the darkness, and for that I am forever in your debt. So come, tell me your name." Her hands hung, loosely clasped together, against the front of a plain dress, but her face- dear heaven, her face- was lavish extravagance and no amount of plain attire could detract from it.

She looked down at the man. His face appeared different than the first time she had seen him, as if he'd fought some battle and won. A peacefulness stole over her, causing her to take a deep breath. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply. His scent filled her mind and her fingers began to glide through his hair, exploring the shape of his head, then his temples, then down to the sharp plain of his cheekbones. "Come back, my duke," she whispered. "I have need to see thee fattened up and shouting orders." Suddenly she felt a touch on her cheek. Caught in the dreamlike spell, she turned into the hand without opening her eyes. As she had done, he caressed her cheek. Now his thumb ran along the line of her jaw. When fingers touched her lips, her eyes fluttered open. "Your voice saved me." His own was raspy and deep, but gratitude glowed in the dark pools that were his eyes. And he was even more devastatingly attractive with them open. Serena drew a sharp breath, wanting to get up, both trapped beneath his weight and that of his words. "Thou hast been very sick." She strained to right her senses. When she started to slide out from under his head, he grasped her hand with surprising strength. "Stay." "I must not. My father will be back soon." "Have we reached Philadelphia then?" "Yes. The others have already been sold. 'Tis fortunate thee wert so ill and escaped the soul-drivers, sir." As she spoke, she slid out from beneath his head and refilled his cup. "Here, have another drink, and thou wilt hear the tale." He smiled at her with such a look that she thought she might melt into the wood f the floor. "A long story, I hope. I would listen to your voice forever." Heat surged to her cheeks, her gaze dropping to the floor. Her mind told her how inappropriate it was to behave like this with a complete stranger. And yet, it was as if other parts of her- her heart, her soul, her very skin- knew him as deeply as she knew herself.

Then he, too, collapsed to his knees in the grass. His heart rushed so in his chest, he thought he might die. Eyes closed, he saw his life, all the events leading to this moment. He saw his mother, glowing and smiling down at him, so very pleased. He saw himself as a child playing in a stream, with his shirt and socks hidden on the bank so he wouldn't be caught. He saw his father, Ivor, a stern face glaring down at him. But then he saw beyond the face into his father's eyes- and saw Ivor as a frightened little boy. And then he saw 'her.' Serena. A bright light illuminated her face and then faded, and he saw her as warm and living and real. He could almost reach out and touch her. But she vanished, replaced in his mind's eyes by the coal miners and the filthy wretchedness of the children, of Robbie- And suddenly, Drake knew. His mission was as clear as if God had spoken it aloud. In those few moments, everything fell into place: the man he had tried to be and the man he was created to be. It was as though a key were turned, a locked-up place opened, and all the people, all the events that led to this moment suddenly made sense as never before. Throwing his eyes open, he gulped in air. The preacher was praying for the souls of all those in the audience, and Drake grasped hold of that prayer with all that he had. 'Yes.' The word resounded within him. 'Yes! Yes!' His spirit soared, his hands lifted toward heaven without any fear or shame. 'Save me, Lord Jesus. Save me, too!' God's response came, swift and sure, and Drake had never felt so light... so alive. So deeply, deeply loved.

Then I think-" she paused, and he could see her battle sudden tears of her own- "that I am ready to love the dragon again." He shook his head. "No... no more dragons, I promise." She cupped his face in between her hands. "Oh Drake, do you not see? You will always have a little of the dragon in you, and you should. It will aid you in your mission to change some of the atrocities of our world. And what lies between you and me... it no longer matters. For you see, dragon or no, I have become a knight." She smiled through her tears. "Your petit chevalier, in truth. I first protected the dragon, but God has tamed him. And I have always loved him. So breathe on, and make your fire. For I am not afraid." They cried together then, staring into each other's eyes. It was the end of one thing and the beginning of another. And Drake had no doubt. The love between them had been tested, purified by God's fire, even as the smith refines his silver. And now... it was ready to be poured forth, molded into their story.

Why send him away then?" Serena's gaze dropped to Drake's chest as she shook her head. She couldn't say it. Just the thought set her cheeks aflame. "I know how you could tell for certain." There was a wicked smile in his voice that sent another shaft of thrill through her. She shivered. "How?" "Have you kissed him?" She took a sudden indrawn breath. "No, of course not. W-why should I kiss him?" He reached for her then, pulling her close, grasping her face between his palms. "Because if he cannot make you feel like this, then you will never love him." She waited as his lips hovered over hers, the moon itself seeming to pause in its revolution looking down upon them with the stars in sudden interest. Serena wanted this- wanted him- with an intensity she hadn't dreamed she possessed. He held her captive with the black depths of his eyes. There lay a road to a place of sensual abandonment, but a way fraught with the rocky cliffs of uncertainty and adversity. Acceptance meant surrendering this life for the unknown. Dare she accept his challenge? Dare she throw her lot in with a man who was still, in so many ways, a dark and dangerous stranger? His breath moved over her face, and she strained to reach him, to touch him. The relief when his lips finally touched hers was profound. Like the last time, she swam in a maelstrom of whirling emotions. Unfamiliar sounds came from her throat because of the force of his mouth as she gave free rein to the desire to press into him. She breathed him in, wanting to be as close as she could, clinging to his broad shoulders.