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“After watching—with a twinge of satisfaction—the letters burn to ashes in the fireplace, Evie felt sleepy. She went to the master bedroom for a nap. In spite of her weariness, it was difficult to relax while she was worried about Sebastian. Her thoughts chased round and round, until her tired brain put an end to the useless fretting and she dropped off to sleep.
When she awakened an hour or so later, Sebastian was sitting on the bed beside her, a lock of her bright hair clasped loosely between a thumb and forefinger. He was watching her closely, his eyes the color of heaven at daybreak. She sat up and smiled self-consciously.
Gently Sebastian stroked back her tumbled hair. “You look like a little girl when you sleep,� he murmured. “It makes me want to guard you every minute.�
“Did you find Mr. Bullard?�
“Yes, and no. First tell me what you did while I was gone.�
“I helped Cam to arrange things in the office. And I burned all your letters from lovelorn ladies. The blaze was so large, I’m surprised no one sent for a fire brigade.�
His lips curved in a smile, but his gaze probed hers carefully. “Did you read any of them?�
Evie lifted a shoulder in a nonchalant half shrug. “A few. There were inquiries as to whether or not you’ve yet tired of your wife.�
“No.� Sebastian drew his palm along the line of her thigh. “I’m tired of countless evenings of repetitive gossip and tepid flirtation. I’m tired of meaningless encounters with women who bore me senseless. They’re all the same to me, you know. I’ve never given a damn about anyone but you.�
“I don’t blame them for wanting you,� Evie said, looping her arms around his neck. “But I’m not willing to share.�
“You won’t have to.â€� He cupped her face in his hands and pressed a swift kiss to her lips.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil in Winter

“I’m tired of sitting. I’m tired of watching everyone else work. I can set my own limits, Amelia. Let me do as I wish.â€�
“No.� Incredulously Amelia watched as Win picked up a broom from the corner. “Win, put that down and stop being silly!� Annoyance whipped through her. “You’re not going to help anyone by expending all your reserves on menial tasks.�
“I can do it.� Win gripped the broom handle with both hands as if she sensed Amelia was on the verge of wrenching it away from her. “I won’t overtax myself.�
“Put down the broom.�
“Leave me alone,� Win cried. “Go dust something!�
“Win, if you don’t—� Amelia’s attention was diverted as she saw her sister’s gaze fly to the kitchen threshold.
Merripen stood there, his broad shoulders filling the doorway. Although it was early morning, he was already dusty and perspiring, his shirt clinging to the powerful contours of his chest and waist. He wore an expression they knew well—the implacable one that meant you could move a mountain with a teaspoon sooner than change his mind about something.
Approaching Win, he extended a broad hand in a wordless demand. They were both motionless. But even in their stubborn opposition, Amelia saw a singular connection, as if they were locked in an eternal stalemate from which neither wanted to break free.
Win gave in with a helpless scowl. “I have nothing to do.� It was rare for her to sound so peevish. “I’m sick of sitting and reading and staring out the window. I want to be useful. I want…� Her voice trailed away as she saw Merripen’s stern face. “Fine, then. Take it!� She tossed the broom at him, and he caught it reflexively. “I’ll just find a corner somewhere and quietly go mad. I’ll—�
“Come with me,� Merripen interrupted calmly. Setting the broom aside, he left the room.
Win exchanged a perplexed glance with Amelia, her vehemence fading. “What is he doing?�
“I have no idea.�
The sisters followed him down a hallway to the dining room, which was spattered with rectangles of light from the tall multipaned windows that lined one wall. A scarred table ran down the center of the room, every available inch covered with dusty piles of china � towers of cups and saucers, plates of assorted sizes sandwiched together, bowls wrapped in tattered scraps of gray linen. There were at least three different patterns all jumbled together. “It needs to be sorted,� Merripen said, gently nudging Win toward the table. “Many pieces are chipped. They must be separated from the rest.�
It was the perfect task for Win, enough to keep her busy but not so strenuous that it would exhaust her. Filled with gratitude, Amelia watched as her sister picked up a teacup and held it upside down. The husk of a tiny dead spider dropped to the floor.
“What a mess,� Win said, beaming. “I’ll have to wash it, too, I suppose.�
“If you’d like Poppy to help—� Amelia began.
“Don’t you dare send for Poppy,â€� Win said. “This is my project, and I won’t share it.â€� Sitting at a chair that had been placed beside the table, she began to unwrap pieces of china.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Mine Till Midnight