He knelt down, and put a flower under her nose. She turned away. He tickled her under the chin with it. Stop it. It is for you. I don’t want it. Ah, Maeve, you wound me. It’s just a poor, innocent flower. To think that its very existence, its very life, was ordained so that it could be presented to you . . . that its very life was cut short so that it could bring a smile of delight to your lovely lips—and now, you don’t want it. He put his hand to his heart and affected a hurt look. Dear God, if I were that flower I would be sorely crushed, and go to my death drowning in tears of bitterness and rejection and hurt and abandonment— Oh, give me the blasted thing! she cried, and snatching it away from him, held it protectively against her breast. Sir Graham smiled, his eyes twinkling. ― Danelle Harmon, My Lady Pirate

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He knelt down, and put a flower under her nose. She turned away. He tickled her under the chin with it. Stop it. It is for you. I don't want it. Ah, Maeve, you wound me. It’s just a poor, innocent flower. To think that its very existence, its very life, was ordained so that it could be presented to you . . . that its very life was cut short so that it could bring a smile of delight to your lovely lips—and now, you don’t want it. He put his hand to his heart and affected a hurt look. Dear God, if I were that flower I would be sorely crushed, and go to my death drowning in tears of bitterness and rejection and hurt and abandonment— Oh, give me the blasted thing! she cried, and snatching it away from him, held it protectively against her breast. Sir Graham smiled, his eyes twinkling. ― Danelle Harmon, My Lady Pirate
He knelt down, and put a flower under her nose. She turned away. He tickled her under the chin with it. Stop it. It is for you. I don't want it. Ah, Maeve, you wound me. It’s just a poor, innocent flower. To think that its very existence, its very life, was ordained so that it could be presented to you . . . that its very life was cut short so that it could bring a smile of delight to your lovely lips—and now, you don’t want it. He put his hand to his heart and affected a hurt look. Dear God, if I were that flower I would be sorely crushed, and go to my death drowning in tears of bitterness and rejection and hurt and abandonment— Oh, give me the blasted thing! she cried, and snatching it away from him, held it protectively against her breast. Sir Graham smiled, his eyes twinkling. ― Danelle Harmon, My Lady Pirate

He knelt down, and put a flower under her nose. She turned away. He tickled her under the chin with it. Stop it. It is for you. I don’t want it. Ah, Maeve, you wound me. It’s just a poor, innocent flower. To think that its very existence, its very life, was ordained so that it could be presented to you . . . that its very life was cut short so that it could bring a smile of delight to your lovely lips—and now, you don’t want it. He put his hand to his heart and affected a hurt look. Dear God, if I were that flower I would be sorely crushed, and go to my death drowning in tears of bitterness and rejection and hurt and abandonment— Oh, give me the blasted thing! she cried, and snatching it away from him, held it protectively against her breast. Sir Graham smiled, his eyes twinkling.
― Danelle Harmon,

My Lady Pirate

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