Ashton Hall Quotes

Jack took me to the Christmas Dance. It snowed the day of the dance, making the Meier Farmhouse and Dance Hall look like something out of a painting, the lights on the roof glowing under sheets of white. And when Jack led me onto the dance floor and grasped one of my hands and tugged it up behind his neck, then placed his arm around my back, soft and low, I thought life couldn't get better. He pulled me close against him, our hands clasped next to his chest.The cedar from the farmhouse mingled with Jack's aftershave,making a sweet, rustic scent. "Becks,remember the first time we met?" he asked,his lips grazing my ear. Of course I remembered. The events of that day were permanently etched into my brain. "You mean,the time you nearly beheaded me with a baseball?" "I had to do something to get the new girl's attention." "A simple 'hello' would have worked." He pulled me in tighter, as if that were possible. "Why did we wait so long to do this?" "Um, because you were making your way through the entire cheerleading squad?" He looked at me for a few moments, then shook his head and leaned in to brush his lips along my shoulder. I closed my eyes. If this was what I could expect for the rest of my high school years,I never wanted to graduate. Ever.

«Che cosa credevate di fare?» Eleanor, un po’ stupita e un po’ offesa, lo guardò come se non credesse a ciò che lui le aveva appena fatto. «Mi sembrava di essere stata chiara a Clifton Hall, dovete lasciarmi in pace!» «E allora vattene!» Ashton l’aggredì all’improvviso, esausto. Disperato. Tutta quella smania, quella voglia di lei... Di quella donna che faceva male al cuore... Lo capì con chiarezza, una realtà distruttiva e logorante: Eleanor White lo avrebbe sempre respinto, allo stesso modo in cui non avrebbe mai smesso di rifiutare il desiderio che Ashton nutriva nei suoi confronti. Lui invece sarebbe rimasto schiavo di quella serva e della voglia che lo stava logorando istante dopo istante, solo. Perduto. Senza speranza. «VATTENE!»

her breast seemed unbearable, and a ragged sigh did not ease the pain. Though the view could have been appeasing, she yearned to have the lush green lawns of Belle Chêne in sight and to know within her mind that she was Ashton’s beloved, no matter what name she bore. Her chin lifted, and her heart quickened as she detected a man on horseback riding at a full canter toward the house. For a moment she held her breath, wanting it to be Ashton, but all the while knowing it could not be. She fell further into despondency as the rider came nearer. The man’s body was too thick, and he rode without the skill of the other man. Recognizing Malcolm Sinclair, she waited with quaking heart as he dismounted and came into the house. Eons seemed to pass before she heard the scrape of his boot against the stairs. His footsteps came down the hall, pausing before each door as if he searched for her in the other rooms. A rising panic took hold of her as he drew near, and she cast her gaze about for someplace to hide, but she forced herself to remain where she was, knowing that reality had to be dealt with and that

When people in the village have books they no longer need, this shop provides a refuge whilst the volumes are in transition to new homes. That's the point of books, isn't it? To be passed from hand to hand, until they fall apart. Part of the great river of life. [SIR JEREMY AUBREY ('the general'), to Hannah Larson]

That is blood.” Anne abandoned her muff and bent down to dip a finger into the nearest splotch. Her gloved fingertip came back bright red. “Emily, you didn’t kill Godric did you? I mean, I’m sure you had a good reason, but it’s foolish to leave a blood trail.” Anne’s gaze swept the hall, seeking the truth. “Murder? Heavens no, Anne. Wherever do you come up with such nonsense?” Emily tried to lead her away to another room, but Anne, who was fairly strong for a woman, pulled free and opened the drawing room door. Emily froze behind her, fearing Anne would faint as she took in the scene of Godric tending to a half-naked Ashton. A bloody shirt lay on the ground near his feet. “Oh my…” Anne exhaled in shock.

The scent of elder bushes, the sporting prints in the hall, The croquet matches in summer, the handshake, the cough, the kiss, There is always a wicked secret, a private reason for this. —W. H. Auden

don’t be surprised if they keep asking. Good to know you’re still predictable even if Riorson isn’t.” “How was he this morning?” Heat rushes over my face as we walk into the empty rotunda, and I push back my hood. Without classes, formation, or any sense of order, the academic wing might sit abandoned, but commons and the gathering hall are congested with aimless, worried, agitated cadets hoping to survive the next patrol and looking to take their frustrations out on someone else. Every single one of us would kill for a Battle Brief. “Surly and stubborn as always,” Imogen answers when we cross into the dormitory, quieting as we pass a group of glaring second-years from First Wing, including Caroline Ashton, which means the truth-sayers

never pay for sex, just beat them and they will do it for free