“What is being a Scot like?" Ellice heard her mother ask. 'Oh, no.' "A certain independence of spirit,"she answered before the men could. Or before the girl serving the venison could hear, take notes about Enid's snide remarks, and carry… — Karen Ranney Copy Share Image
“What were her abilities? She played the pianoforte passably well even though it didn't interest her. She loved to read and could spend the… — Karen Ranney Copy Share Image
“The tapestry of her life was a work of art created not with a needle but with duty, courage, and honor, sprinkled liberally with… — Karen Ranney Copy Share Image
“She bit her lips, concentrating, wishing he'd go and sit on one of the chairs before the fireplace. Or stand at the window and… — Karen Ranney Copy Share Image
“The morning sun danced on her hair, transforming the brown to gold and reddish glints. An errant sunbeam angled over her face, dusting her… — Karen Ranney Copy Share Image
“This time he surged into her, until the hair of his groin mingled with hers. She groaned softly. When her eyes opened, he asked,… — Karen Ranney Copy Share Image
“A storm in Scotland was like nothing she'd ever experienced in London. Here, the elements felt alive, sentient. This storm was a raging monster… — Karen Ranney Copy Share Image
“Do you like sandwiches?" he asked. "At this point, I think I'd eat anything. Other than rabbit. I'm not excessively fond of rabbit." "Or… — Karen Ranney Copy Share Image
“Memories of her, however, would remain with him. Everywhere he’d look, she would be there, as if she were a hundred women, all shadow… — Karen Ranney Copy Share Image
“Why should she listen to a litany of her flaws when she knew them all so well? She never stood up straight. She always… — Karen Ranney Copy Share Image
“She laughed. He was right. Her laughter was enchanting. So, too, the sparkle in her eyes as she glanced at him. He'd never seen… — Karen Ranney Copy Share Image
“I will not be spoken to in that tone," she said to her mother. Enid's mouth gaped open. For only a moment, however, until… — Karen Ranney Copy Share Image
