Good God What Men Can Do To

And – I Think You Know, Don’t You? – That I Love You, Anne.’ I Feel As If I Have Been Living In A Loveless World For Too Long. The Last Tender Face I Saw Was My Father’s When He Sailed For England. ‘you Do? Truly?’ ‘i Do.’ He Rises To His Feet And Pulls Me Up To Stand Beside Him. My Chin Comes To His Shoulder, We Are Both Dainty, Long-limbed, Coltish: Well-matched. I Turn My Face Into His Jacket. ‘will You Marry Me?’ He Whispers. ‘yes,’ I Say.

The Sons Of York Will Destroy Each Other, One Brother Destroying Another, Uncles Devouring Nephews, Fathers Beheading Sons. They Are A House Which Has To Have Blood, And They Will Shed Their Own If They Have No Other Enemy.

In A Way. Magic Is The Act Of Making A Wish Come About. Like Praying, Like Plotting, Like Herbs, Like Exerting Your Will On The World, Making Something Happen.

I Want To Take You For Pleasure, And Hold You In My Arms For Desire. I Want You To Know That It Is Your Kiss That I Want, Not Another Heir To The Throne. You Can Know That I Love You, Quite For Yourself, When I Come To Your Bed, And Not As The York’s Broodmare.” I Tilt Back My Head And Look At Him Under My Eyelashes. “you Think To Bed Me For Love And Not For Children? Isn’t That Sin?” His Arm Comes Around My Waist And His Palm Cups My Breast. “i Shall Make Sure That It Feels Richly Sinful,” - Edward Iv To Elizabeth Woodville -

For Harry Potter I Have All The Time In The World.