Excerpts

Hesitating, he said, “After our frank discussion, are you sure about this? I feel quite awkward as if I would be taking advantage of you. You must know that I, nor any man, can resist the pleasure you give but I just want to be sure that you want to do this. Do not feel that I need more persuading of my feelings for you by offering yourself to me. I want your honesty, passion and your fire but one day I might want your soul.” John looked up as Winona turned around and continued to ascend the stairs. He followed.

“All right, Nicholas, say it so we can get on with the work of the day.”
“John, do not humor me. I think you have a serious . . . how should I put this . . . a serious gift.” 
John jumped out of his chair. “A serious gift? What in bloody hell does that mean?

Baron Kindle Brampton was always a social success and invited to every event ever held by anyone of peerage in London. He did not care for all of the social activities, as there were far too many. He had lands that he needed to improve and bring better conditions for the people that lived and worked there. His purpose as a Baron was to produce coin for the realm from raising crops and animals. Along with that, he was tasked with training of the young peerage leaders, for battle, and the fearless stallions they rode upon.

John was at a loss as to what to do. “What would happen if I introduced myself?” he wondered. “She’d think I was impertinent.” He was transfixed, sure that his mind was playing tricks. She had been so clearly focused in his last vision, which stirred something within him. It was possible that he was seeing what he wanted to see, being that he was in his vision’s London. One thing was for sure, he would not let her out of his sight. He heard her escort call her name.

Why does the thrill of soaring begin with the fear of falling?

Margaret was struggling to acknowledge the sheer peace and warmth that was settling within her. It was quite pleasant, and nothing had ever filtered through her body quite like this before. She found herself staring into his pale blue eyes — drowning, more like it — as if they were deep pools. He seemed fascinated in her, as well, for he was staring back. The moment suspended itself and begged for something more, but nothing seemed appropriate.” Have we met before, Mr. Thornton?” she finally asked, regretfully breaking the connection.

When Branson arrived at the Pinson’s he saw his master sitting on the front stoop with his head in his hands. The man and woman were standing behind him. The woman was crying.
“Boss, I am sorry. She wasn’t there.”
“Yes, I know. The Pinson’s waved goodbye to her about one half hour ago.”
“Can I ask what has you so upset?”
“Yes. You know the visions that I have been having?”
Branson nodded.
“I just woke from one, minutes ago, and I saw Margaret wearing a blindfold. I am sure something is going to happen to her.”