Fans of Eloisa James & Julia Quinn discussion

The decision to get married is of course a big turning point in most romances. One we don’t see much is where the couple have loved each other for years, have been lovers, and suddenly have the option to marry. What does marriage mean for people who have been lovers and can continue to be lovers?
One of the things I like about this scene is that you can feel the heroine’s bewilderment at this change in n her world.

She watched him through lazy and half-closed eyes, not wanting to move. He was so perfectly beautiful. He was skillful beyond measure. She felt wonderful.
He touched across the bandage on her arm, seeing that all was safe. Then he sat, his half of the blanket across his lap, gazing down at her with an unreadable expression in his eyes.
She reached to hold his hand. Even with all the intimacy between them, the straightforward holding of hand in hand was one more.
He said, “Will you marry me?”
“No.” She sat up.
“Ah. That’s your considered reply, that is?” One might spend a week with a magnifying glass and not read one iota of expression on his face. She tried to take her hand away and he did not let go.
“I mean, ‘No, what are you saying?’”
“Then you shouldn’t make it sound so much like ‘No, we can’t get married.’”
“That is also true.” She paused. “Probably.” When he was silent, she said “I have not thought this through.”
“Think it through.”
She would have jumped up and put more space between the breath and heat and intimacy of his body. She would have liked to become somewhat more clothed. Almost no rational thinking occurs when one is naked.
He held her hand and looked at her, quietly serious. “There is no one else for me. Never has been. The war’s been over a long time.”
“It is not a matter of our nations at war.”
“Just pointing out that that small impediment no longer exists. We’re not enimies any more—England and France. I heard the speeches. Nobody on either side will care if we marry.” He turned her hand over to look at the palm. Stroked across it as if he brushed dust away. “Is it me being a gutter rat? Me coming from nothing at all?”
“You know that does not matter to me.”
“It should. You deserve better.” His lips quirked. “But since you haven’t picked anybody better, why not me? I have money. I came by it honestly, picking good investments. Property mostly. There’s a house in the West End I’ve never bothered to live in much. It has a Grecian foyer and an Adams fireplace in the dining room.” Startlingly, suddenly, he grinned. “I have a damn butler. You can help me intimidate him.”
“I do not give one penny for your butler and your thousands of pounds and the blood you care in your veins. I have fought all my life to make a world where such things do not matter.”
“But the answer is still no,” he said.
“How can I say yes? We have been apart for years and years. We do not know each other.”
“You know every alley in my mind, ever broken bottle and rat scuttling in there. You put me in my place when I get above myself. Austria, Prussia, Italy, all up and down France—you always figured out where I was going to mount the next operation. Half the time, you blocked me. Just uncanny that way.” He hadn’t let go of her hand. ”I know you pretty well too.”
“I have some familiarity with the workings of your mind. That does not mean we should get married.”
He kissed her knuckles. One, two, three and four. She was twitching inside by the time he finished. “No, we should get married so we can go to bed together and do all these interesting things with each other and still stay respectable.”
“You, who are a paragon of respectability, always.” Never, not once, had she expected to marry. She had not considered the possibility.
Perhaps it was being naked, which befuddled her mind. Perhaps it was being wholly happy, with every inch of her body exultant. Perhaps it was merely that this was Hero, and he could always make his mad notions seem possible. “I do not say,.’No’, precisely. I feel very strange about the whole idea.
He stood and used the hand he was still holding to pull her to her feet. “Let’s go to bed—my bed—and talk about this in the morning. I want to lie beside you and soak up the warmth coming off of you.”
His bed was very nice, so much so that they made love again almost as soon as they had wriggled down into the sheets.
When she sank into sleep at the end of it, she felt Hero pull he covers over her. He did that after they made love, however far the blankets and sheets had strayed. It was an act of most gentlemanly kindness, the sort of habit a man might follow with a cherished wife.
She could not imagine herself, married.

I love this book. I don't think this writer could produce a bad book if she tried, but I think this one is her best. Reading lines like “You know every alley in my mind, every broken bottle and rat scuttling in there." reminds me anew why I find her such an amazing writer.

Yes, and of course that line resonates even more because earlier in the book he's been trying not to show her that part of his mind, and now he's comfortable with it. So many lines resonate in so many ways. I agree, it is her best so far. And that's really saying something.

I don't think I know this one.

I don't know this...

Loved this book......love all her books really.

I know I haven't read this one but it sounds interesting.

I haven't read this one yet but I KNOW it! That is how clear her voice is. It has been sitting on my bedside table for about a month already. This may sound silly, but I haven't been in the right frame of mind to read it yet. Some books you can read in increments and some need time set aside. I always need to know I have time set aside for this author. This passage may have just kicked me into gear.

I don't know it...

It's Black Hawk by Joanna Bourne.

I've been meaning to read it.

I haven't read this one

Yep. That's the one.

Isnt' her voice amazing, Irisheyes. You will love the book.