Enid Sinclair Quotes

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 she began to protest. "You've gotten snippy since your marriage, haven't you? I'll not take that behavior from you, child. Your sister would never have disrespected me in such a fashion." "Enough!" Ellice held up her hand, her gaze never once leaving her mother. "When have you ever respected me, Mother? I'm only a poor substitute for Eudora." She took a deep breath. "I'm not Eudora," she said. "I'm not your beloved daughter who died. I'm the one who lived. I'm tired of hearing about what my sister did or would have done. I suspect that Eudora would have silenced you long before now." She grabbed her skirts and walked around her mother, heading for the kitchen. At the door, she stopped and turned. "Must I die before you begin to value me as well?

She wanted to be away, leaving her suite, Drumvagen, and all of its inhabitants behind. Mostly, she wanted to be away from who she was. She wanted to be someone more courageous, like Mairi. Mairi didn't chafe under the role circumstance had given her. Instead, she molded life to fit her, like Lady Pamela. Nor was Mairi the only courageous person she knew. Everyone at Drumvagen was strong-willed and memorable: from Virginia, who had challenged society's rules, to Macrath, who created an empire from an idea, to her mother and Brianag. She was the only one people ignored. 'Oh, yes, Ellice,' people probably said, wrinkling their brows to summon an image of her. Poor dear girl, she's Enid's daughter, correct? Pity the other one didn't survive. Heard she was a beauty, but this girl? Brown hair and brown eyes and a completely malleable nature, they would say, describing her. Once, she'd been endlessly chastised for speaking out of turn, for saying what she thought. Years of being castigated had taught her to keep silent.

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 them to Brianag. "An ability to carry on despite circumstances," she continued. "Perhaps a belief in otherworldly phenomena." "Do you think we all believe in ghosts?" Gadsden asked. She glanced at him. Now was not the time to recall the feeling of her breasts pressing against his chest, of his fingers on her skin, his lips trailing kisses along her throat. Or her earlier image of him unveiling her, inch by inch. Her cheeks warmed. "Do you believe in ghosts?" she asked him. "Not the incorporeal ones," he said. "Only those of memory and mind." "Are you a haunted man?" He didn't answer her, merely sat there, his gaze steady on her. To her surprise neither her mother nor Macrath said a word. Or perhaps they did and she didn't hear anything. She was caught by his gray eyes, snared and netted until she could almost imagine she was at his feet, head bowed, swearing allegiance to him. He'd raise her up with both hands on her arms until she stood before him, clad only in her gauzy tunic. A slave brought to the man who declared himself her master.