Quotes from Tamera Alexander

A twinkle lit his eyes. "And I'll tell you this, my bonny lass, I'm not of a mind to let you go either. Not without a good fight." She smiled at his brogue and at the mischievous gleam in his expression. "But if it's a fight you're wantin'"—he winked—"then you've come to the right man, my lady. Because I won't be lettin' you go without one.

I've never tried to imagine a world without God. This one seems hard enough as it is.

Because when the Judgment Day came and everyone's sins were laid bare, she knew that no nails would be left clutched in anyone's hands or stuffed in anyone's pockets. Including her own. That everyone would have driven their very last nail into the hands and feet of Jesus. So yes, even as she struggled to move forward and seek understanding of all that had happened, she would leave Hood and this entire horrible war at the cross of Christ.

I love you, Aletta. I want you to be my wife. And no matter how long you need, I'll wait for you. Do you hear me?" "Of course I hear you," she finally whispered, opening her eyes. "I'm right here, after all." With a wry smile, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her, slow and deep. Already breathless, she filled her lungs and looked into his eyes.

Molly?" "Yes?" He turned back and reached out as though to touch her, then stopped. "I'll wait. And when the time comes, whenever you're ready—if you're ever ready—all you have to do is . . ." He didn't complete the sentence. He didn't have to.

How intricate were the stitches with which God was weaving the tapestry of her life. And how often did the blessings therein exact a price more dear, and further reaching, than she would ever comprehend this side of eternity.

Would you like a . . . a cup of cider?" She thought she heard him laugh. "A cup of cider? In the middle of the night?" She smiled, knowing he couldn't see her, but it felt good after a day spent worrying. "It's silly. I'm sorry. Never mind." "No! I'd like a cup of a cider. Or a cup of . . . anything . . . with you, ma'am.

She looked at him for the longest time, and he sensed she wanted to tell him something, so he kept quiet, giving her ample opportunity. She finally stood on tiptoe and kissed him, high on the cheek, about as far away from his mouth as she could get. But that was okay. She'd kissed him. It was a start. And he'd take it.

And yet, looking back on it now, she could see that God had been working on her behalf, even though she'd been blind to it.

May I have the honor . . . Mrs. Caradon?" Mrs. Caradon. Mrs. Wyatt Caradon. She leaned down and he lifted her into his arms. She kept her eyes averted as he carried her up the stairs and across the threshold of the cabin, yet she was aware of every place their bodies touched, and of where his hands were on her—chaste and proper—which only accentuated what he was probably thinking about. And what she was trying her best not to.

thanked God again for bringing him into her life,

I want you to be my wife. And I want to be your husband. There's nothing stopping us, Molly. I know you're afraid. I see it in your eyes. But I'll take care of you. And your baby. I'll love you both. I already do.