" He cast aside the mangled blade of grass and idly reached to capture both my hands in one of his, drawing them forward so that he could see my wrists. “You’re not wearing the bracelet,” he observed. I flushed crimson, pulling ineffectually against his grasp. “I cannot wear it,” I protested. “Faith, I cannot accept it, it would not be seemly. I meant to return it to you.” “I will not have it returned.” He looked seriously offended. “I bought it for you as a present, and I would have you wear it.” “My uncle would doubtless not approve, my lord,” I reminded him gently. Releasing my hands he rose to collect the grazing horse, gathering the trailing reins in his fist. “I care not,” he told me. “What business has your uncle in my affairs?” “None,” I had to admit, “but he takes a great interest in mine, and I would not wish to rouse his ire.” He turned at that, looming tall against the gray stallion, his expression serious. “If Jabez Howard dares to mark you in any way, I will hear of it.” I stood up, too, and faced him squarely. “I am flattered, my lord, but it is none of your concern. I am not your responsibility.” “You are wrong, mistress,” he informed me in a voice as smooth as honey. “You are very much my responsibility. I have made it so. "
― Susanna Kearsley , Mariana