" He thought of all the causes he’d thought were worth dying for. Not a one of them meant a thing compared to the life of this woman.
Was this love? Could it be? All he knew was that he could no longer conceive of a future without her.
She was laughter.
She was joy.
And she might die because he’d been too bloody selfish to leave her on the ship.
He’d known it was safer to keep her on board. He’d known it, and still he’d brought her ashore.
He’d wanted to see her smile. No, it was far more selfish than that. He’d wanted to be her hero. He’d wanted her to look at him with worship in her eyes, to think the sun rose and set on his face.
He closed his eyes. He had to make this up to her. He had to protect her.
She wasn’t his to protect, and now she might never be, but he would see her safe.
Even if it was the last thing he did. "
― Julia Quinn , The Other Miss Bridgerton (Rokesbys, #3)