By Daphne du Maurier, Arthur Quiller-Couch
A spellbinding love tale, Castle Dor used to be the incomplete final novel of the British novelist Sir Arthur Quiller-Crouch, greater often called "Q." the radical was once handed directly to Daphne du Maurier via his daughter, who used to be convinced that du Maurier's storytelling talents have been ideally fitted to finishing the tale.
The result's a mystical, compelling retelling of Tristan and Iseult, the star-crossed fans transplanted in time to the Cornwall of the final century. an opportunity stumble upon among the Breton onion-seller, Amyot Trestane, and the newly-wed Linnet Lewarne launches their tragic tale, taking them within the fateful footsteps of the doomed enthusiasts of Cornish legend.
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Additional resources for Castle Dor
She asked. ” The cat proceeded to weave itself between his legs. Damned thing didn’t have an ounce of sense. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask Missy how she’d ended up with the animal, but the question would imply an interest in her life and he couldn’t afford to open that door. He was here to heal and think. That was all. He backed away and the cat, as if it’d had enough of him, crossed the room and hopped outside through a kitty door. Jonas might as well do the same thing and get this over with.
At first, he couldn’t see her face, but then his eyes adjusted and her features cleared. Oh, man. The air puffed out of his chest and his limbs went numb. When he’d first met her, she’d been only twenty-three to his thirty-two, going on fifty. Somehow, the years had made her even more beautiful than the day he’d spotted her in that hole-in-the-wall bar. She’d put on a little weight, which to his way of thinking only served to heighten the attractiveness of her curves. Her hair was longer and curlier, although the color was still that creamy blonde, promising the softness of down, the scent of heaven.
No, you’re right. I never cried. Not one single tear. ” No, he wasn’t even close to being satisfied with what had happened between him and Missy, but he’d accepted the fact long ago that he’d made a rash decision in marrying her. Everyone knew a man didn’t need to care deeply about a woman to be elementally and viscerally attracted to her. What a lot of people didn’t realize was that some women—women like Missy—could be the same way. Apparently, if the quick rise and fall of her chest were any indication, she hadn’t changed.
Castle Dor by Daphne du Maurier, Arthur Quiller-Couch