My Mother Is Convinced That

Not That I Wish To Give You Any Ammunition, But The Sad Fact Of It Is-most Men Are Sheep. Where One Goes, The Rest Will Follow. And Didn't You Say You Wished To Be Married?' 'not To Someone Who Follows You As The Lead Sheep.

A Man With Charm Is An Entertaining Thing, And A Man With Looks Is, Ofcourse, A Sight To Behold, But A Man With Honor - Ah, He Is The One, Dear Reader, To Which Young Ladies Should Flock.

He'd Been Waiting For A Love Fraught With Passion And Drama; It Hadn't Even Occurred To Him That True Love Might Be Something That Was Utterly Comfortable And Just Plain Easy.

He Blinked A Few Times, Each Motion So Slow That He Was Never Quite Sure If He’d Get His Eyes Open Again. He Wasn’t Wearing A Shirt. Funny How He Was Only Just Realizing It. Funnier Still That He Couldn’t Seem To Summon Any Concern For Her Maidenly Sensibilities. She Might Be Blushing. He Couldn’t Tell. It Was Too Dark To See. But It Didn’t Matter. This Was Honoria. She Was A Good Egg. A Sensible Egg. She Wouldn’t Be Scarred Forever By The Sight Of His Chest.

And I Hope You Will Not Think Me Foolish When I Also Extend My Thanks. Thank You, Michael, For Letting My Son Love Her First. —from Janet Stirling, Dowager Countess Of Kilmartin, To Michael Stirling, Earl Of Kilmartin