We have to get out of here, Bram. Before they take our bollocks and use them for pincushions.

You don't want me to feel obligated? Well, I'm sorry, Lily. I am here because I feel obligated." He brought her hand to his chest, pressing her palm flat against his rapidly thumping pulse. "I'm obligated by my heart. It's decided you're essential to my existence, you see. And it's threatening to go out on labor strike if I don't make you mine this very day. So yes. I am here on bended knee, acting from a deep, undeniable sense of obligation. I am, quite simply, yours." He swallowed hard. "If you'll have me.

Oh no. Oh God. I couldn't possibly be so stupid." "Don't limit yourself. You can be anything you wish.

I'm not going to accept your challenge. There will be no duel." "Why not? Because I'm a woman?" "No, because I've seen the way you spinsters handle a pistol. You'd shoot me dead where I stood.

No, no. Don't make that face. Every time I propose to you, you make that twisty, unhappy face. It wears on a man's confidence.

A man might engage in flirtation with distinterest, even disdain. But he never teases without affection.

Men never hesitated to declare their presence. They were permitted to live aloud, in reverberating thuds and clunks, while ladies were always schooled to abide in hushed whispers.