I no longer believed in the idea of soul mates, or love at first sight. But I was beginning to believe that a very few times in your life, if you were lucky, you might meet someone who was exactly right for you. Not because he was perfect, or because you were, but because your combined flaws were arranged in a way that allowed two separate beings to hinge together.

I want morning and noon and nightfall with you. I want your tears, your smiles, your kisses...the smell of your hair, the taste of your skin, the touch of your breath on my face. I want to see you in the final hour of my life...to lie in your arms as I take my last breath.

The letter had been crumpled up and tossed onto the grate. It had burned all around the edges, so the names at the top and bottom had gone up in smoke. But there was enough of the bold black scrawl to reveal that it had indeed been a love letter. And as Hannah read the singed and half-destroyed parchment, she was forced to turn away to hide the trembling of her hand. —should warn you that this letter will not be eloquent. However, it will be sincere, especially in light of the fact that you will never read it. I have felt these words like a weight in my chest, until I find myself amazed that a heart can go on beating under such a burden. I love you. I love you desperately, violently, tenderly, completely. I want you in ways that I know you would find shocking. My love, you don't belong with a man like me. In the past I've done things you wouldn't approve of, and I've done them ten times over. I have led a life of immoderate sin. As it turns out, I'm just as immoderate in love. Worse, in fact. I want to kiss every soft place of you, make you blush and faint, pleasure you until you weep, and dry every tear with my lips. If you only knew how I crave the taste of you. I want to take you in my hands and mouth and feast on you. I want to drink wine and honey from you. I want you under me. On your back. I'm sorry. You deserve more respect than that. But I can't stop thinking of it. Your arms and legs around me. Your mouth, open for my kisses. I need too much of you. A lifetime of nights spent between your thighs wouldn't be enough. I want to talk with you forever. I remember every word you've ever said to me. If only I could visit you as a foreigner goes into a new country, learn the language of you, wander past all borders into every private and secret place, I would stay forever. I would become a citizen of you.And there it stopped.

I want you any way I can get you. Not because you’re beautiful or clever or kind or adorable, although devil knows you’re all those things. I want you because there’s no one else like you, and I don’t ever want to start a day without seeing you.

There is nothing on earth more beautiful to me than your smile...no sound sweeter than your laughter...no pleasure greater than holding you in my arms. I realized today that I could never live without you, stubborn little hellion that you are. In this life and the next, you’re my only hope of happiness. Tell me, Lillian, dearest love...how can you have reached so far inside my heart?

I love you, he thought, looking at Win. I love every part of you, every thought and word... the entire complex, fascinating bundle of all the things you are. I want you with ten different kinds of need at once. I love all the seasons of you, the way you are now, the thought of how much more beautiful you'll be in the decades to come. I love you for being the answer to every question my heart could ask.

I love you, Marks. My heart is completely and utterly yours. And unfortunately for you, the rest of me comes with it.

There are some experiences in life they haven't invented the right words for.

The question, love, is whether you want me enough to take the risk.

I have so much love for you, I could fill rooms with it. Buildings. You’re surrounded by it wherever you go, you walk through it, breathe it...it’s in your lungs, and under your tongue, and between your fingers and toes...” His mouth moved passionately over hers, urging her lips apart. It was a kiss to level mountains and shake stars from the sky. It was a kiss to make angels faint and demons weep...a passionate, demanding, soul-searing kiss that nearly knocked the earth off its axis. Or at least that was how Poppy felt about it.

If loneliness was a choice, what was the other option? To settle for second-best and try to be happy with that? And was that fair to the person you settled for?

It was finally becoming clear to her that love wasn't about finding someone perfect to marry. Love was about seeing through to the truth of a person, and accepting all their shades of light and dark. Love was an ability.

You are not a perfect woman.You have an evil temper, you’re as blind as a mole, you’re a deplorable poet, and frankly, your French accent could use some work.” Supporting himself on his elbows, Leo took her face in his hands. “But when I put those things together with the rest of you, it makes you into the most perfectly imperfect woman I’ve ever known.

Mysteries of attraction could not always be explained through logic. Sometimes the fractures in two separate souls became the very hinges that held them together.

You seem to think you have a choice," Cam said. "But you have it backwards. Love chooses you. The shadow moves as the sun commands.

All the fires of hell could burn for a thousand years and it wouldn't equal what I feel for you in one minute of the day. I love you so much there is no pleasure in it. Nothing but torment. Because if I could dilute what I feel for you to the mil­lionth part, it would still be enough to kill you. And even if it drives me mad, I would rather see you live in the arms of that cold, soulless bastard than die in mine," Merripen said to Win.

I'd sell my soul to have you. In my whole life, you'll always be what I wanted most."~ Hardy Cates

I'm not good enough for you. But no one is. And most men, good or bad, have limits to what they would do, even for someone they love. I have none. No God, no moral code, no faith in anything. Except you. You're my religion. I would do anything you asked. I would fight, steal, kill for you."-Kev to Win

It’s impossible,” he snapped. “Why?” “Because I’m Sebastian, Lord St. Vincent. I can’t be celibate. Everyone knows that.

A couple of times in your life, it happens like that. You meet a stranger, and all you know is that you need to know everything about him.

I've got about ten things to say to you right now. But at least nine of them would make me sound like a psycho.”In spite of the seriousness of the situation, I nearly smiled. “What’s the tenth thing?” I asked his shirtfront. He paused, considering it. “Never mind,” he grumbled. “That one would make me sound like a psycho, too.

I am running after you, and life, in desperate pursuit. My dream is that someday you will both turn and let me catch you. That dream carries me through every night... I have enclosed a hundred kisses in this letter. You must count them out carefully and not lose any.

Opening up to the wrong person is like putting ammo in their hands.

Shock is a merciful condition. It allows you to get through disaster with a necessary distance between you and your feelings.

You have to rely on whatever sparks you have inside.

The span of three or four minutes is pretty insignificant in the scheme of things. People lose hundreds of minutes everyday, squandering them on trivial things. But sometimes in those fragments of time, something can happen you'll remember the rest of your life.

What are you thinking?" he asks.I know Gage hates it when I cry - he is completely undone by the sight of tears - so I blink hard against the sting. "I'm thinking how thankful I am for everything," I say, "even the bad stuff. Every sleepless night, every second of being lonely, every time the car broke down, every wad of gum on my shoe, every late bill and losing lottery ticket and bruise and broken dish and piece of burnt toast."His voice is soft. "Why, darlin'?""Because it all led me here to you.

Most lives are not distinguished by great achievements. They are measured by an infinite number of small ones. Each time you do a kindness for someone or bring a smile to his face, it gives your life meaning. Never doubt your value, little friend. The world would be a dismal place without you in it. (tweaked version of a passage from Scandal in Spring)

A well-read woman is a dangerous creature.

Most men don't seem to get that telling a pissed-off woman to calm down is like throwing gunpowder on a fire.” ~ Liberty Jones

I'm a big believer in putting things off, In fact, I even put off procrastinating.-Ella Varner

You think I'd cheat on you?" I demanded with all the innocent outrage I could muster."With another guy, no. With a cheeseburger . . . in a heartbeat.

One glance and I knew exactly who and what he was. The classic alpha male, the kind who had spurred evolution forward about five million years ago by nailing every female in sight. They charmed, seduced, and behaved like bastards, and yet women were biologically incapable of resisting their magic DNA.

It's the perfect solution. We argue all the time. We can't stand each other. It's like we're already married.

All right, then,” she snapped, “do as you please! Perhaps afterward we could manage a coherent discussion.” Twisting beneath him, she flopped onto her stomach.Christopher went still. After a long hesitation, she heard him ask in a far more normal voice, “What are you doing?”“I’m making it easier for you,” came her defiant reply. “Go on, start ravishing.”Another silence. Then, “Why are you facing downward?”“Because that’s how it’s done.” Beatrix twisted to look at him over her shoulder. A twinge of uncertainty caused her to ask, “Isn’t it?”His face was blank. “Has no one ever told you?”“No, but I’ve read about it.” Christopher rolled off her, relieving her of his weight. He wore an odd expression as he asked, “From what books?”“Veterinary manuals. And of course, I’ve observed the squirrels in springtime, and farm animals and-”She was interrupted as Christopher cleared his throat loudly, and again. Darting a confused glance at him, she realized that he was trying to choke back amusement.Beatrix began to feel indignant. Her first time in a bed with a man, and he was laughing.“Look here,” she said in a businesslike manner, “I’ve read about the mating habits of over two dozen species, and with the exception of snails, whose genitalia is on their necks, they all—” She broke off and frowned. “Why are you laughing at me?Christopher had collapsed, overcome with hilarity. As he lifted his head and saw her affronted expression, he struggled manfully with another outburst. “Beatrix. I’m . . . I’m not laughing at you.”“You are!”“No I’m not. It’s just . . .” He swiped a tear from the corner of his eye, and a few more chuckles escaped. “Squirrels . . .”“Well, it may be humorous to you, but it’s a very serious matter to the squirrels.

I've missed you, Sebastian.""Have you, love?" He unfastened the buttons of her robe, the light eyes glittering with heat as her skin was revealed. "What part did you miss the most?""Your mind," she said, and smiled at his expression."I was hoping for a far more depraved answer than that.""Your mind is depraved," she told him solemnly.He gave a husky laugh. "True.

I spent most of my youth hauling sides of beef and pork to my father's shop. Carrying you is far more enjoyable.""How sweet," Annabelle mumbled sickly, her eyes closed. "Every woman dreams of being told that she's preferable to a dead cow.

You know,” she said dreamily, passing over his question, “you’re not nearly as handsome as Lord St.Vincent.”“There’s a surprise,” he said dryly.“But for some reason,” she continued, “I never want to kiss him the way I do you.” It was a good thing that she had closed her eyes, for if she had seen his expression, she might not have continued. “There is something about you that makes me feel terribly wicked. You make me want to do shocking things. Maybe it’s because you’re so proper. Your necktie is never crooked, and your shoes are always shiny. And your shirts are so starchy. Sometimes when I look at you, I want to tear off all your buttons. Or set your trousers on fire.

Don't ever trust men with good intentions. They'll always disappoint you."Leo

Fate is the malevolent little jester sitting up in the heavens and pondering over how ridiculous we humans are and he does his best to make fools out of all of us. And sooner or later he succeeds.

Marcus's fear that his wife might succumb to childbed fever receded day by day as Lillian returned to her old self, healthy and slender and vigorous. His relief was vast. He had never known such overwhelming love for one person, nor had he anticipated that Lillian would so quickly become his essential requirement for happiness. Anything that was in his power to do for Lillian would be done.

For thousands of nights I dreamed of making love to you. No man on earth has ever hated sunrise as I do.

I didn't want to give you the one last part of myself that I couldn't take back. And then you were gone... And I realized it was already yours. It had been since the beginning. Except that I hadn't told you. It drove me mad, the thought that you would never know.

He shook his head, staring at her like a condemned man who beheld the face of his executioner. "Aline," he whispered, "Do you know what hell is?""Yes." Her eyes overflowed. "Trying to exist with your heart living somewhere outside your body.""No. It's knowing that you have so little faith in my love, you would have condemned me to a lifetime of agony." His face contorted suddenly. "To something worse than death.

You deserve someone better than me. Someone young and idealistic…someone who can experience things for the first time along with you. I'm not always kind, and I have more faults than I'd care to name. All I can promise is that I'll want you until my last breath.

Clinging to him desperately, Sara kept her mouth at his ear. "Listen to me." All she could do was play her last card. Her voice trembled with emotion. "You can't change the truth. You can act as though you're deaf and blind, you can walk away from me forever, but the truth will still be there, and you can't make it go away. I love you." She felt an involuntary tremor run through him. "I love you," she repeated. "Don't lie to either of us by pretending you're leaving for my good. All you'll do is deny us both a chance at happiness. I'll long for you every day and night, but at least my conscience will be clear. I haven't held anything back from you, out of fear or pride or stubbornness." She felt the incredible tautness of his muscles, as if he were carved from marble. "For once have the strength not to walk away,"she whispered. "Stay with me. Let me love you, Derek.

I never want to be apart from you,” he said. “I’m going to buy an island and take you there. A ship will come once a month with supplies. The rest of the time it will be just the two of us, wearing leaves and eating exotic fruit and making love on the beach . . .”You’d start a produce export business and organize a local economy within a month,” she said flatly.Harry groaned as he recognized the truth of it. “God. Why do you tolerate me?”Poppy grinned and slid her arms around his neck. “I like the side benefits,” she told him. “And really, it’s only fair since you tolerate me.

I don’t want to be a widow, I don’t want Michael Bayning, and I don’t want you to joke about such things, you tactless clodpole!”As all three of them stared at her openmouthed, Poppy leapt up and stalked away, her hands drawn into fists.Bewildered by the immediate force of her fury—it was like being stung by a butterfly—Harry stared after her dumbly. After a moment, he asked the first coherent thought that came to him. “Did she just say she doesn’t want Bayning?”“Yes,” Win said, a smile hovering on her lips. “That’s what she said. Go after her, Harry.”Every cell in Harry’s body longed to comply. Except that he had the feeling of standing on the edge of a cliff, with one ill-chosen word likely to send him over. He gave Poppy’s sister a desperate glance. “What should I say?”“Be honest with her about your feelings,” Win suggested.A frown settled on Harry’s face as he considered that. “What’s my second option?

So you actually need spectacles,” Leo finally said.“Of course I do,” Marks said crossly. “Why would I wear spectacles if I didn’t need them?”“I thought they might be part of your disguise.”“My disguise?”“Yes, Marks, disguise. A noun describing a means of concealing someone’s identity. Often used by clowns and spies. And now apparently governesses. Good God, can anything be ordinary for my family?

You don’t annoy me.” Carefully he rebuttoned the placket of her shirt. “I thought you did, at first. But now I realize it was more like the feeling you get when your foot’s been asleep. And when you start moving, the blood coming back into it is uncomfortable . . . but also good. Do you understand what I mean?”“Yes. I make your feet tingle.”A smile came to his lips. “Among other things.

Beatrix, do you know what happens to girls who ask such naughty questions?”“They’re ravished in haylofts?” she inquired hopefully.

Marriage would change hardly anything between us, except that we would end our arguments in a much more satisfying way. And of course I would have extensive legal rights over your body, your property, and all your individual freedoms, but I don't see what's so alarming about that.

...whether he stayed or left, whether they walked the same path or not. They could live on opposite sides of the world, and she would still be his.

Cam held her closer. "Marry me, Amelia. You're what I want. You're my fate." One hand slid to the back of her head, gripping the braids and ribbons to keep her mouth upturned. "Say yes." He nibbled at her lips, licked at them, opened them. He kissed her until she writhed in his arms, her pulse racing. "Say it, Amelia, and save me from ever having to spend a night with another woman. I'll sleep indoors. I'll get a haircut. God help me, I think I'd even carry a pocket watch if it pleased you.

And then to Leo’s surprise, Catherine smiled at him. A sweet, natural, brilliant smile, the first she had ever given him. Leo felt his chest tighten, and he went hot all over, as if some euphoric drug had gone straight to his nervous system.It felt like … happiness.He remembered happiness from a long time ago. He didn’t want to feel it. And yet the giddy warmth kept washing over him for no reason whatsoever.“Thank you,” Catherine said, the smile still hovering on her lips. “That is kind of you, my lord. But I will never dance with you.”Which, of course, made it the goal of Leo’s life.

But Harry . . . even if we had met and married three years ago, you’d still say it wasn’t enough time.”“You’re right. I can’t think of a single day of my life that wouldn’t have been improved with you in it.”“Darling,” she whispered, her fingertips coming up to stroke his jaw, “that’s lovely. Even more romantic than comparing me to watch parts.”Harry nipped at her finger. “Are you mocking me?”“Not at all,” Poppy said, smiling. “I know how you feel about gears and mechanisms.

Cat doesn’t have to work. She’s a woman of independent means. I settled enough money on her to allow her the freedom to do anything she wished. She went to boarding school for four years, and stayed to teach for another two. Eventually she came to me and said she’d accepted a position as a governess for the Hathaway family. I believe you were in France with Win at the time. Cat went for the interview, Cam and Amelia liked her, Beatrix and Poppy clearly needed her, and no one seemed inclined to question her lack of experience.”“Of course not,” Leo said acidly. “My family would never bother with something so insignificant as job experience. I’m sure they started the interview by asking what her favorite color was.

But no one can predict of a certainty what will happen. And none of it will change how I intend to spend the rest of my life. I will live it on my terms. And you... you can have all of me or nothing. I won't be an invalid any longer. Not even if it means losing you.

He uttered a curse that startled her with its foulness, and gripped her head between his hands, forcing her to stare at him. His voice was savage. "For twelve years I have been in constant torment, wanting you in my arms and believing it would never be possible. I want you for a thousand reasons other than your legs, and...no, damn it, I want you for no reason at all, other than the fact that you're you. I want to shove myself deep inside you and stay for hours...days...weeks. I want morning and noon and nightfall with you. I want your tears, your smiles, your kisses...the smell of your hair, the taste of your skin, the touch of your breath on my face. I want to see you in the final hour of my life...to lie in your arms as I take my last breath.

Rohan, one of us is an unmarried man with superior mathematical abilities and no prospects for the evening. The other is a confirmed lecher in an amorous mood, with a willing and nubile young wife waiting at home. Who do you think should do the damned account books?" And, with a nonchalant wave, St. Vincent had left the office.

I’m fairly certain, Captain,” she said, “that the more you discover about me, the more you will dislike me. Therefore, let’s cut to the chase and acknowledge that we don’t like each other. Then we won’t have to bother with the in-between part.”She was so bloody frank and practical about the whole thing that Christopher couldn’t help but be amused.“I’m afraid I can’t oblige you.”“Why not?”“Because when you said that just now, I found myself starting to like you.”“You’ll recover,” she said.Her decisive tone made him want to smile. “It’s getting worse, actually,” he told her. “Now I’m absolutely convinced that I like you.”Beatrix gave him a patently skeptical stare. “What about my hedgehog? Do you like her, too?”Christopher considered that. “Affection for rodents can’t be rushed.”“Medusa isn’t a rodent. She’s an erinaceid.

Annabelle gave him a chiding smile. “If you’re implying that I’m spoiled, I assure you that I am not.”“You should be.” His warm gaze slid over her pink-tinted face and slender upper body, then sought hers again. There was a note in his voice that gently robbed her of breath. “You could do with a bit of spoiling.

Was this some new level of depravity? Had he developed a spinster fetish?

Where are we going?” Annabelle asked, resisting his hold on her wrist.“To the house. If they’re not willing to be witnesses, then it seems I’ll have to debauch you in front of someone else.

She shook her head as she confessed, "I want it so much, I'm afraid to hope." "Never be afraid to hope," Rohan said gently. "It's the only way to begin." -Rohan to Win

I’ve never heard of a man being so eager to confess to the parent of a girl he’s just ruined

Love me?” Madeline asked with a faint smile. “It used to be love.” He brushed his lips over her closed eyelids. “Now there's no word for it.” “You once told me that you thought love was a weakness.” “I was wrong,” he whispered, kissing the corners of her mouth. “I've discovered it's my only strength.

I'll follow you to the next life if I have to," he whispered harshly in her ear. "You'll never be free of me. I'll chase you through heaven and hell and beyond." He continued to whisper without stopping while his hands gripped her body close to his. "You stay with me, Holly," he muttered savagely. "Don't do this to me. You stay, damn you.

You wouldn't have taken Rose to such a place, would you?""Of course not, but she is a little girl, and I'm-""My life", he interrupted quietly. "You're my entire life. If anything ever happens to you, Holly, there is nothing left for me.

The Rom believe you should take the road that calls to you, and never turn back. Because you never know what adventures await." ... "So we're going to take this road," he murmured, "and see where it leads.

It seemed as if some subtle current of recognition had passed between them... not as if they had met before... but as if they had come close several times until finally an impatient Fate had forced their paths to intersect.

Rest,” Logan said. “Both of you.” His caressing gaze moved over his wife and infant daughter.“I'll watch over you.”“Love me?” Madeline asked with a faint smile, and yawned again.“It used to be love.” He brushed his lips over her closed eyelids. “Now there's no word for it.”“You once told me that you thought love was a weakness.”“I was wrong,” he whispered, kissing the corners of her mouth. “I've discovered it's my onlystrength.”Madeline fell asleep with a smile still on her lips, her hand curled around his.

Inti dari hubungan adalah memiliki seseorang saat kita membutuhkannya".

A weak but steady throb lay beneath Kev's searching fingertips. Win's heartbeat...the pulse that sustained his universe.

No matter how strong our resolve, we eventually find ourselves enslaved by the compulsive preference for one particular woman. You’ve been caught, my friend. You may as well reconcile yourself to it.” Nick did not bother trying to deny it. “I was going to be so much smarter than you,” he muttered. Sir Ross grinned. “I prefer to think that intelligence has nothing to do with it. For if a man’s intellect is measured by his ability to remain untouched by love, I would be the greatest idiot alive.

El infierno es saber que tenías tan poca fe en mi amor que estabas dispuesta a condenarme a la agonía de por vida.

Some folks are happier not being saved.

... I discovered life sometimes has a way of giving you what you need, but not in the form you expect.

You’re far too prickly tempered to be a mistress. You’re far better suited as a wife.

We men had a meeting a long time ago, and we all decided, 'It's trousers'. And that's what we've worn ever since.

The first time you went out, you became mixed up with a group of radical political terrorists.”“That could have happened to anyone!

You’re not worried about being compromised, are you?” he asked. “Because I’ve already done that.

A book had always been a door to another world... a world much more interesting and fantastical than reality. But she had finally discovered that life could be even more wonderful than fantasy.And that love could fill the real world with magic.

Books were everywhere, lined neatly on shelves that went from floor to ceiling. The ceiling was two stories high, with an upper balcony that provided access to a second-floor gallery. The dazzling array f red, gold, green, and brown bindings was a feast for the eyes, while the wonderful smells of vellum, parchment, and pungent leather almost caused Amanda to salivate. An exquisite waft of tea leaves lingered in the air. For anyone who enjoyed the pursuit of reading, this place surely was paradise.

Books were everywhere, lined neatly on shelves that went from floor to ceiling. The ceiling was two stories high, with an upper balcony that provided access to a second-floor gallery. The dazzling array of red, gold, green, and brown bindings was a feast for the eyes, while the wonderful smells of vellum, parchment, and pungent leather almost caused Amanda to salivate. An exquisite waft of tea leaves lingered in the air. For anyone who enjoyed the pursuit of reading, this place surely was paradise.

A poor man needs the escape far more than a wealthy man does.""Escape," Amanda repeated, having never heard a book described in such a way."Yes, something to transport your mind from where and who and what you are. Everyone needs that. A time or two in my past, it seemed that a book was the only thing that stood between me and near insanity. I-"He stopped suddenly, and Amanda realized that he had not meant to make such a confession. The room became uncomfortably quiet, with only the jaunty snap of the fire to intrude on the silence. Amanda felt as if the air were throbbing with some unexpressed emotion. She wanted to tell him that she understood exactly what he meant, that she, too, had experienced the utter deliverance that words on a page could provide. There had been times of desolation in her own life, and books had been her only pleasure.

They took Daisy to the orangery, where warm autumn light glittered through the windows, and the scents of citrus and bay hung thick in the air. Removing Daisy's heavy orange-blossom wreath and veil, Lillian set them aside on a chair.There was a silver tray on a nearby table, laden with a bottle of chilled champagne and four tall crystal glasses."This is a special toast for you, dear," Lillian said, while Annabelle poured the sparkling liquid and handed the glasses out. "To your happy ending. Since you've had to wait for it longer than the rest of us, I'd say you deserve the entire bottle." She grinned. "But we're going to share it with you anyway."Daisy curved her fingers around the crystal stem. "It should be a toast for all of us," she said. "After all, three years ago we had the worst marriage prospects imaginable. We couldn't even get an invitation to dance. And look how well things turned out.""All it t-took was some devious behavior and a few scandals here and there," Evie said with a smile."And friendship," Annabelle added."To friendship," Lillian said, her voice suddenly husky.And their four glasses clicked in one perfect moment.

And although I appreciated their kindness more than they would ever know, it's a fact that friends last longer the less you use them.

Hell was not a pit of fire and brimstone. Hell was waking up alone, the sheets wet with your tears and your seed, knowing the woman you had dreamed of would never come back to you.

... He didn't know how to say good-bye. His throat ached from the strain of holding back his emotions. “I don't want to leave you,” he said humbly, reaching for her cold, stiff hands.Emma lowered her head, her tears falling freely. “I'll never see you again, will I?”He shook his head. “Not in this lifetime,” he said hoarsely.She pulled her hands away and wrapped her arms around his neck. He felt her wet lashes brush his cheek. “Then I'll wait a hundred years,” she whispered. “Or a thousand, if I must. Remember that, Nikki. I'll be waiting for you to come to me.

Seduction is merely encouraging a man to do something he already wants to do.

Getting to a higher spiritual level is like increasing your credit score. You get a lot more points for sinning and repenting than if you have no credit history at all.

No marriage stays in the same pattern forever. It is both the best feature of marriage and the worst, that it inevitably changes.

He looked like a fallen angel, replete with all the dangerous male beauty that Lucifer could devise.

It was a kiss to level mountains and shake stars from the sky. It was a kiss to make angels faint and demons weep...a passionate, demanding, soul-searing kiss that nearly knocked the earth off its axis.

You shouldn't be shy," he told her. "I'd give my soul for a glimpse of you without your clothes.""Don't joke about that.""About seeing you naked? I wasn't joking.""Your soul," Helen said earnestly. "It's too important.

I’ve lowered my character with a great deal of unwholesome reading material.

Poppy took a deep, appreciative breath. “How bracing,” she said. “I wonder what makes the country air smell so different?” “It could be the pig farm we just passed,” Leo muttered. Beatrix, who had been reading from a pamphlet describing the south of England, said cheerfully, “Hampshire is known for its exceptional pigs. They’re fed on acorns and beechnut mast from the forest, and it makes the bacon quite lovely. And there’s an annual sausage competition!” He gave her a sour look. “Splendid. I certainly hope we haven’t missed it.” Win, who had been reading from a thick tome about Hampshire and its environs, volunteered, “The history of Ramsay House is impressive.” “Our house is in a history book?” Beatrix asked in delight. “It’s only a small paragraph,” Win said from behind the book, “but yes, Ramsay House is mentioned. Of course, it’s nothing compared to our neighbor, the Earl of Westcliff, whose estate features one of the finest country homes in England. It dwarfs ours by comparison. And the earl’s family has been in residence for nearly five hundred years.” “He must be awfully old, then,” Poppy commented, straight-faced. Beatrix snickered. “Go on, Win.” “‘Ramsay House,’” Win read aloud, “‘stands in a small park populated with stately oaks and beeches, coverts of bracken, and surrounds of deer-cropped turf. Originally an Elizabethan manor house completed in 1594, the building boasts of many long galleries representative of the period. Alterations and additions to the house have resulted in the grafting of a Jacobean ballroom and a Georgian wing.’” “We have a ballroom!” Poppy exclaimed. “We have deer!” Beatrix said gleefully. Leo settled deeper into his corner. “God, I hope we have a privy.

Nature had squandered an unreasonable quantity of male beauty on this undeserving creature.

And then another letter had come from Christopher, so devastating that Amelia wondered how mere scratches of ink on paper could rip someone's soul to shreds. She had wondered how she could feel so much pain and still survive.

Of all the Hathaway sisters,” Cam said equably, “Beatrix is the one most suited to choose her own husband. I trust her judgment.”Beatrix gave him a brilliant smile. “Thank you, Cam.”“What are you thinking?” Leo demanded of his brother-in-law. “You can’t trust Beatrix’s judgment.”“Why not?”“She’s too young,” Leo said.“I’m twenty-three,” Beatrix protested. “In dog years I’d be dead.

The chef turned back to the housekeeper. “Why is there doubt about the relations between Monsieur and Madame Rutledge?”The sheets,” she said succinctly.Jake nearly choked on his pastry. “You have the housemaids spying on them?” he asked around a mouthful of custard and cream.Not at all,” the housekeeper said defensively. “It’s only that we have vigilant maids who tell me everything. And even if they didn’t, one hardly needs great powers of observation to see that they do not behave like a married couple.”The chef looked deeply concerned. “You think there’s a problem with his carrot?”Watercress, carrot—is everything food to you?” Jake demanded.The chef shrugged. “Oui.”Well,” Jake said testily, “there is a string of Rutledge’s past mistresses who would undoubtedly testify there is nothing wrong with his carrot.”Alors, he is a virile man . . . she is a beautiful woman . . . why are they not making salad together?

Christopher heard a pair of women gossiping nearby, whispering in disapproving undertones. "... Ramsey was found flirting in a corner with a woman. They had to drag him away from her." "Who was it?" "His own wife." "Oh, dear.

After a universal silence, Leo was the first to speak. “Did anyone else notice—”“Yes,” Catherine said. “What do you make of it?”“I haven’t decided yet.” Leo frowned and took a sip of port. “He’s not someone I would pair Bea with.”“Whom would you pair her with?”“Hanged if I know,” Leo said. “Someone with similar interests. The local veterinarian, perhaps?”“He’s eighty-three years old and deaf,” Catherine said.“They would never argue,” Leo pointed out.

What kind of wedding would you like?" he asked, and stole another kiss before she could reply."The kind that turns you into my husband." She touched the firm line of his mouth with her fingers. "What kind would you like?"He smiled ruefully. "A fast one.

I'm not the marrying kind -"St. Vincent snorted. "No man is. Marriage is a female invention.

Annabelle, what happened to you?” Lillian asked the next morning. “You look dreadful. Why aren’t you wearing your riding habit? I thought you were going to try out the jumping course this morning. And why did you disappearso suddenly last night? It’s not like you to simply vanish without saying—”“I didn’t have a choice in the matter,” Annabelle said testily, folding her fingers around the delicate bowl of a porcelain teacup. Looking pale and exhausted, her blue eyes ringed with dark shadows, she swallowed a mouthful of heavily sweetened tea before continuing. “It was that blasted perfume of yours—as soon as he caught one whiff of it, he went berserk.”Shocked, Lillian tried to take in the information, her stomach plummeting. “It… it had an effect on Westcliff, then?” she managed to ask.“Good Lord, not Lord Westcliff.” Annabelle rubbed her weary eyes. “He couldn’t have cared less what I smelled like. It was my husband who went completely mad. After he caught the scent of that stuff, he dragged me up to our room and…well, suffice it to say, Mr. Hunt kept me awake all night. All night ,” she repeated in sullen emphasis, and drank deeply of the tea.“Doing what?” Daisy asked blankly.Lillian, who was feeling a rush of relief that Lord Westcliff had not been attracted to Annabelle while shewas wearing the perfume, gave her younger sister a derisive glance. “What do you think they were doing? Playing a few hands of Find-the-Lady?

Her chances of a decent marriage were about to be dashed-and all because of a ferret.

I’ve won his heart, but it’s like owning a house in which most of the doors are permanently locked. He wants to shield me from all unpleasantness. And it’s not really marriage—not like the marriage you have with Cam—until he’s willing to share the worst of himself as well as the best of himself.

In this regard, Daisy reflected, her marriage to Matthew would not be unlike Lillian's with Westcliff. As two strong-willed people with very different sensibilities, Lillian and Westcliff often argued and negotiated... and yet this didn't seem to weaken their marriage. Quite the opposite, in fact- their union seemed all the better for it.She considered her friends' marriages... Annabelle and Mr. Hunt as a harmony of similar dispositions... Evie and Lord St. Vincent with their opposite natures, as necessary to each other's existence as day and night. It was impossible to say that any of these pairings was superior to the others.Perhaps, in spite of all she had heard about the ideal of a perfect marriage, there was no such thing. Perhaps every marriage was a unique creation.

Be that as it may, I think someday you'll meet a man worth giving up your independence for.

Any man,” she muttered, “who wanted to marry into the Hathaway family after this should be shut away in an institution.” “Marriage is an institution,” he said reasonably, retrieving her gown from the floor.

I had hooked up my iPod to the speakers. The air was filled with the raw, sexy purr of Etta James. "The thing that's great about the blues," I told Luke, pausing to sip from my glass of wine, "is that it's about feeling, loving, wanting without the brakes on. No one's brave enough to live that way. Except maybe musicians.

He wasn't mine anywhere except in my heart.

Ah, Evie,” she heard him say softly, “I must have a heart, after all…because right now it aches like the devil.”“Only your heart?” she asked ingenuously, making him laugh.He lowered her to the bed, his eyes sparkling wickedly. “Also a few other things,” he conceded. “And as my wife, it’s your duty to ease all my aches.

Westcliff sees an odd sort of logic in why you would finally be the one to win St. Vincent’s heart. He says a girl like you would appeal to…hmm, how did he put it?…I can’t remember the exact words, but it was something like…you would appeal to St. Vincent’s deepest, most secret fantasy.” Evie felt her cheeks flushing while a skirmish of pain and hope took place in the tired confines of her chest. She tried to respond sardonically. “I should think his fantasy is to consort with as many women as possible.” A grin crossed Lillian’s lips. “Dear, that is not St. Vincent’s fantasy, it’s his reality. And you’re probably the first sweet, decent girl he’s ever had anything to do with.” “He spent quite a lot of time with you and Daisy in Hampshire,” Evie countered. That seemed to amuse Lillian further. “I’m not at all sweet, dear. And neither is my sister. Don’t say you have been laboring under that misconception all this time?

He's part of my family.""You don't have a family, Ella."Although I had made similar comments in the past, it rankled to hear him say it. "We're individuals bound by a pattern of reciprocal obligation," I said. "If a group of chimps in the Amazon can be called a family, I think the Varners qualify.

My family has always believed that when we are faced with large and apparently impossible problems, the best solutions are found by the insane people, not the sensible ones.

It's a house. No more and no less. There isn't a structure on earth that could last forever. But a family goes on."-Leo

Honesty is overrated. As someone once said, 'Secrecy is the first essential in affairs of the heart.'""It was the Duc de Richelieu," said Lillian, who had read the same book of philosophy during their schoolroom lessons. "And the accurate quote is, 'Secrecy is the first essential in affairs of the State.'""He was French, though," Daisy argued. "I'm sure he meant the heart as well."Lillian laughed and glanced at her sister affectionately. "Perhaps he did. But I don't want to keep secrets from Lord Westcliff.""Oh, very well. But heed my words- it wouldn't be a true love affair if you didn't have a few little secrets.

The letter had been crumpled up and tossed onto the grate. It had burned all around the edges, so the names at the top and bottom had gone up in smoke. But there was enough of the bold black scrawl to reveal that it had indeed been a love letter. And as Hannah read the singed and half-destroyed parchment, she was forced to turn away to hide the trembling of her

I love you, he thought, looking at Win. I love every part of you, every thought and word... the entire complex, fascinating bundle of all the things you are. I want you with ten different kinds of need at once. I love all the seasons of you, the way you are now, the thought of how much more beautiful you'll be in the decades to come. I love you for being the answer to every question my heart could ask.And it seemed so easy, once he capitulated. It seemed natural and right.Kev wasn't certain if he was surrendering to Win or to his own passion for her. Only that there was no more holding back. He would take her. And he would give her everything he had, every part of his soul, even the broken pieces.

Derek's breath touched Sara's throat in unsteady urges. "Sometimes," he whispered, "I'm so close to you ... and I'm still not close enough. I want to share your breath ... every beat of your heart."He cradled her head in both his hands, his mouth hot on her neck. "Sometimes," he murmured, "I want to punish you a little.""Why?""For making me want you until I ache with it. For the way I wake at night just to watch you sleeping." His face was intense and passionate above her, his green eyes sharp in their brightness. "I want you more each time I'm with you. It's a fever that never leaves me. I can't be alone without wondering where you are, when I can have you again." His lips possessed hers in a kiss that was both savage and tender, and she opened to him eagerly.

Ah. That is the price of love, I'm afraid—the pain one suffers from its loss. I'm not convinced it's worth it. Perhaps if one must love, one should do so in moderation.""Moderation in love," she mused aloud. "It's not something that would inspire a poet, is it?""A poet's view of the world would make for an uncomfortable life, wouldn't it? Everyone at the mercy of his or her passions, all of us tearing our hair out for the sake of love...

Sturm und Drang?”“Ah…I see that I’ll have to introduce you to the finer points of German literature. It means passionate turmoil—literally translated, ‘storm and stress.’

I respect you," he murmured. "and your views. I think of you as an equal. I respect your brains, and all those big words you like to use. But I also want to rip your clothes off and have sex with you until you scream and cry and see God." -Jack Travis (Smooth Talking Stranger)

I was just thinking if the sex with you is one-tenth as fun as arguing with you. I'll be one happy bastard.""You'll never find out. You--------" He kissed me. ~ Jack Travis & Ella Varner

Alone-sex didn't count. It's like the difference between thinking to yourself or having a good conversation with someone----the pleasure is in the exchange." -Liberty Jones

Something happened to you, they discovered, when you were given the unconditional love and trust of a child.You wanted to try to deserve it.

When the tea tray arrived, Annie the doll was propped up on the settee between Poppy and Merritt. The little girl pressed the edge of her teacup against the doll’s painted mouth. “Annie wants more sugar, Mama,” Merritt said. Lillian grinned, knowing who was going to drink the highly sweetened tea. “Tell Annie we never have more than two lumps in a cup, darling. It will make her il

Sebastian encountered Cam in the hallway outside the reading room. “Where is he?” he demanded without preamble. Stopping before him with an expressionless face, Cam said shortly, “He’s gone.” “Why didn’t you follow him?” White-hot fury blazed in Sebastian’s eyes. This news, added to the frustration of his vow of celibacy, was the last straw. Cam, who had been exposed to years of Ivo Jenner’s volcanic temper, remained unruffled. “It was unnecessary in my judgment,” he said. “He won’t retur

Sometimes when we're not paying attention, relationships hap­pen.There is no rule that requires two people in love to be ex­actly alike. In fact, there is some scientific evidence to suggest that on a genetic level, the people who are the most opposite are the most likely to have a healthy and long-lasting pairing. But really, who can explain the mysteries of attraction? Blame it on Cupid.The moon.The shape of a smile. Both of you can thrive on your differences, as long as you respect them. You say tomato, he says tomahto .Let it happen,Dive in head first. We usually learn the most about ourselves from people who are different from us.—Miss Independent (ella varner)

The guy who broke up with me... he was exactly like you, in the beginning. Charming, and nice. They're all like you in the beginning. But I always end up like this. And I can't do it anymore.

Take too much time, and time will take you.

I've never wanted to be loved. And God Knows no one's done it yet.

Sometimes a woman needs a man for company, no matter how useless he is.

A sixty - eight, he wants you to go down on him but he won't return the favor. It would be sixty-nine but he owes you one.

Men are like dogs," Stacy was fond of saying. And she usually went on to add that, like dogs, they all took up too much space on the bed, and they always went for the crotch.

We assured Phelan that we were more than happy to let him have you and your menagerie,” Leo retorted.“After that, he said he needed to think.”“About what?” Beatrix demanded. “What is there to think about? Why is it taking him so long to make a decision?”“He’s a man, dear,” Amelia explained kindly. “Sustained thinking is very difficult for them.

I don't think Harry cares about being forgiven," Poppy said glumly."Of course he does. Men love to be forgiven. It makes us feel better about our inability to learn from our mistakes.

Wishing for someone to talk to, some warm human hand to cling to, she walked across the giant chessboard, searching blindly through the crowd of immobile figures... until she saw a dark form leaning indolently against a white marble column. Her heart began to hammer, and her steps slowed as she was filled with a rush of excitement that heated her skin and made her pulse beat in urgent rhythm.It was Simon Hunt, walking toward her with a slight smile on his face. He caught her before she could retreat, and bent to whisper in her ear."Will you dance with me now?""I can't," she said breathlessly, struggling in his tightening embrace."Yes, you can," he urged gently, his mouth hot and tender as it moved across her face. "Put your arms around me..."As she writhed in his embrace, he laughed softly and kissed her until she was limp and helpless against him. "Queen is now subject to capture," he murmured, drawing back to stare at her with deviltry in his eyes. "You're in danger, Annabelle...

I refuse to believe that we’re going to go through life without something magical happening

At first I wasn’t all that tempted by him, but then he killed the spider. Which was a huge point in his favor.” “Absolutely. I love men who kill bugs.” “And then when I was freaking out and couldn’t breathe, he was so…gentle.” Zoe sighed and colored, remembering. “He was holding me, and talking to me in that voice…you know, sort of low and rough around the edges…” “All the Nolans sound like that,” Justine said reflectively. “Like they’ve got a mild case of bronchitis. Totally hot.

When their chatter died to a contented lull, a small red squirrel ventured out of the oak grove and turned to the side, watching them with one bright black eye."An intruder," Annabelle observed, with a delicate yawn.Evie rolled to her stomach and tossed a bread crust in the squirrel's direction. He froze and stared at the tantalizing offering, but was too timid to advance. Evie tilted her head, her hair glittering in the sun as if it had been overlaid with a net of rubies. "Poor little thing," she said softly, casting another crust at the timid squirrel. This one landed a few inches closer, and his tail twitched eagerly. "Be brave," Evie coaxed. "Go on and take it." Smiling tolerantly, she tossed another crust, which landed a scant few inches from him. "Oh, Mr. Squirrel," Evie reproved. "You're a dreadful coward. Can't you see that no one's going to harm you?"In a sudden burst of initiative, the squirrel seized the tidbit and scampered off with his tail quivering. Looking up with a triumphant smile, Evie saw the other wallflowers staring at her in drop-jawed silence. "Wh-what is it?" she asked, puzzled.Annabelle was the first to speak. "Just now, when you were talking to that squirrel, you didn't stammer.""Oh." Suddenly abashed, Evie lowered her gaze and grimaced. "I never stammer when I'm talking to children or animals. I don't know why.

For some reason Miss Jenner had seen fit to come uninvited to Sebastian’s home at a scandalously late hour. To make the situation even more compromising, she was unaccompanied—and spending more than a half minute alone with Sebastian was sufficient to ruin any girl. He was debauched, amoral, and perversely proud of it. He excelled at his chosen occupation—that of degenerate seducer—and he had set a standard few rakes could aspire to.

It was the first time she had ever felt the kind of loneliness that couldn't be cured with just any available company.

Scorpions are quite ruthless, you know. That is why Artemis bid one of them to kill her foe Orion. And as a reward she set the scorpion on up in the sky. I'm not ruthless. I merely do whatever it takes to achive my goalsThat's not ruthless?

I don't want adventure.""I think you do. I think in a moment of weakness, you might surprise yourself.

Tell me, Miss Hathaway … what would you do if you were invited on a midnight ride across the earth and ocean? Would you choose the adventure, or stay safely at home?” She couldn’t seem to tear her gaze from his. The topaz eyes were lit by a glint of playfulness, not the innocent mischief of a boy, but something far more dangerous. She could almost believe he might actually change form and appear beneath her window one night, and carry her away on midnight wings … “Home, of course,” she managed in a sensible tone. “I don’t want adventure.” “I think you do. I think in a moment of weakness, you might surprise yourself.” “I don’t have moments of weakness. Not that kind, at any rate.” His laughter curled around her like a drift of smoke. “You will.

... But if I spend [all] my time *reading* about adventures, I won't actually be *having* them.

Sometimes life has a cruel sense of humor, giving you the thing you always wanted at the worst time possible.

But I must warn you, Miss Hathaway ... life has a way of fouling up our plans. I speak from experience.

I have a proposition for you,” she said, trying for a businesslike tone. “A very sensible one. You see—” She paused to clear her throat. “I’ve been thinking about your problem.” “What problem?” Cam played lightly with the folds of her skirts, watching her face ale

One never knows what fate has in store.” Turning toward Rohan, Amelia discovered he was glancing over her in a slow inventory that spurred her heart into a faster beat. “I don’t believe in fate,” she said. “People are in control of their own destinies.” Rohan smiled. “Everyone, even the gods, are helpless in the hands of fate.” Amelia regarded him skeptically. “Surely you, being employed at a gaming club, know all about probability and odds. Which means you can’t rationally give credence to luck or fate or anything of the sort.” “I know all about probability and odds,” Rohan agreed. “Nevertheless, I believe in luck.” He smiled with a quiet smolder in his eyes that caused her breath to catch. “I believe in magic and mystery, and dreams that reveal the future. And I believe some things are written in the stars … or even in the palm of your hand.” Mesmerized, Amelia was unable to look away from him. He was an extraordinarily beautiful man, his skin as dark as clover honey, his black hair falling over his forehead in a way that made her fingers twitch with the urge to push it back. “Do you believe in fate too?” she asked Merripen. A long hesitation. “I’m a Roma,” he said. Which meant yes. “Good Lord, Merripen. I’ve always thought of you as a sensible man.” Rohan laughed. “It’s only sensible to allow for the possibility, Miss Hathaway. Just because you can’t see or feel something doesn’t mean it can’t exist.

His eyes were above hers, and she saw that the golden-hazel irises were rimmed with black. “Miss Hathaway … you’re quite certain fate had no hand in our meeting tonight?” She couldn’t seem to breathe properly. “Qu-quite certain.” His head bent low. “And in all likelihood we’ll never meet again?” “Never.” He was too large, too close. Nervously Amelia tried to marshal her thoughts, but they scattered like spilled matchsticks … and then he set fire to them as his breath touched her cheek. “I hope you’re right. God help me if I should ever have to face the consequences.” “Of what?” Her voice was faint. “This.” His hand slid to the back of her neck and his mouth covered hers.

You’ll have me,” Cam whispered. “You’ll have me, hummingbird. I’m your fate— even if you won’t admit it yet.

But the absence of tears wasn't the same as an absence of feeling.

Morality is only for the middle class, sweet. The lower class can't afford it, and the upper classes have entirely too much leisure time to fill

You’re beautiful, Evie,” came his soft comment. Having been raised by relations who had always lamented the garish color of her hair and the proliferation of freckles, Evie gave him a skeptical smile. “Aunt Florence has always given me a bleaching lotion to make my freckles vanish. But there’s no getting rid of them.” Sebastian smiled lazily as he came to her. Taking her shoulders in his hands, he slid an appraising glance along her half-clad body. “Don’t remove a single freckle, sweet. I found some in the most enchanting places. I already have my favorites… shall I tell you where they are?” Disarmed and discomfited, Evie shook her head and made a movement to twist away from him. He wouldn’t let her, however. Pulling her closer, he bent his golden head and kissed the side of her neck. “Little spoilsport,” he whispered, smiling. “I’m going to tell you anyway.” His fingers closed around a handful of the chemise and eased the hem slowly upward. Her breath caught as she felt his fingers nuzzling tenderly between her bare legs. “As I discovered earlier,” he said against her sensitive throat, “there’s a trail inside your right thigh that leads to—” A knock at the door interrupted them, and Sebastian lifted his head with a grumble of annoyance. “Breakfast,” he muttered. “And I wouldn’t care to make you choose between my lovemaking or a hot meal, as the answer would likely be unflattering.

Sleep, my love," He whispered, smoothing her long hair, lifting the damp locks away from the back of her neck. "I'll be here to watch over you.""You sleep too," she said groggily, her hand creeping to the center of his chest."No." McKenna smiled and pressed a soft kiss against her temple. His voice was husky with wonder. "Not when staying awake is better than anything I could find in a dream.

She understood the risks, the limits, the possible consequences, and she was willing to accept all of that in return for the sheer joy of being with him. One night with him…one hundred… whatever fate allowed her, she would take.

You can never be truly happy in a life unless you have known a sorrow. All terrible things we have gone through in life have created spaces inside us where happiness can live Not to mention love.

Dont worry" Emma said "There are worse things than having your heart broken.""Like What?" Zoe asked skeptically."Never having it broken. Never giving in to love

Dear Lord,” she said in a strangled whisper. “I can bear it for a while...but please don't let it hurt forever.

A woman could do that to you - reach that place in your soul where the best and worst of you was kept. And once she was there, she owned that place and never left.

I beg your pardon?” Catherine interrupted. “Are you implying that women have poor judgment?”“In these matters, yes.” Leo gestured to Christopher. “Just look at the fellow, standing there like a bloody Greek god. Do you think she chose him because of his intellect?”“I graduated from Cambridge,” Christopher said acidly. “Should I have brought my diploma?”“In this family,” Cam interrupted, “there is no requirement of a university degree to prove one’s intelligence. Lord Ramsay is a perfect example of how one has nothing to do with the other.

I don't really like this song," Emma had said."You told me it was your favourite.""It's beautiful. But it always makes me sad.""Why, love?" he'd asked gently. "It's about finding each other again. About someone coming home."Emma had lifted her head from his shoulder and looked at him earnestly. "It's about losing someone, and having to wait until you're together in heaven.""There's nothing in the lyrics about heaven," he'd said."But that's what it means. I can't bear the idea of being separated from you, for a lifetime or a year or even a day. So you mustn't go to heaven without me.""Of course not," he had whispered. "It wouldn't be heaven without you.

Llandrindon joined in the discussion. "I believe what Mardling is asking," he said, "is how one will be able to tell the difference between a shopgirl and a well-to-do woman if they are both clean and similarly dressed. And if a gentleman is not able to tell what they are by their appearance, how is he to know how to treat them?"Stunned by the snobbery of the question, Matthew considered his reply carefully. "I've always thought all women should be treated with respect no matter what their station.""Well said," Westcliff said gruffly, as Llandrindon opened his mouth to argue.No one wished to contradict the earl, but Mardling pressed, "Westcliff, do you see nothing harmful in encouraging the poor to rise above their stations? In allowing them to pretend there is no difference between them and ourselves?""The only harm I see," Westcliff said quietly, "is in discouraging people who want to better themselves, out of fear that we will lose our perceived superiority."The statement caused Matthew to like the earl even more than he had previously.

Many times in life I've regretted the things I've said without thinking. But I've never regretted the things I said nearly as much as the words I left unspoken.

Every time you look at me, you'll remember that I'm half his.""No." His hand came to the side of her face, his thumb wiping her tears. "You're all mine." His voice was deep and shaken. "Every hair on your head. Every part of you was made to be loved by me.

Stop running from me and listen. I do want you. I want you even knowing if I marry you, I’ve got an instant family, complete with a suicidal brother-in-law and a Gypsy houseboy with the temperament of a poked bear.” “Merripen is not a houseboy.” “Call him what you like. He comes with the Hathaways. I accept that.

Leo smiled and stroked her hair. 'We'll both be fine, Marks. We've just begun our journey...and there's so much we have yet to do.' He spoke more softly as he heard her breathing turn even and steady. 'Rest against my heart. Let me watch over your dreams. And know that tomorrow morning, and every morning after that, you'll awaken next to someone who loves you.''Dodger?' she mumbled against his chest, and he grinned.'No, your confounded ferret will have to stay in his basket. I was referring to myself.''Yes, I know.' Catherine slid her hand up to his cheek. 'Only you,' she said. 'Always you.

You fault me for having standards?' Sebastian countered icily.'Not at all. I fault you for having two sets of them.'~ Sebastian, Lord St. Vincent & Cam Rohan.

He turned back to Lara, his alert gaze raking over her tearful face. Somehow the solid reality of his presence eased her panic. He folded her in his arms, anchoring her against his chest, murmuring quietly into her hair.Sniffling, Lara reached inside his waistcoat until her palm rested over the steady beat of his heart. The sensation of his warm breath sinking down to her scalp me her quiver. It was so terribly intimate, crying in his arms... even more personal than making love. But he had never felt so much like a husband to her as he did in this moment. Quieting, she inhaled his familiar scent and let out a shaky sigh.

Then, as now, there were always girls who were overlooked and ignored by gentlemen who really should have known better.

This was getting bloody ridiculous, he thought savagely. If she became any more adorable, endearing, or delectable, something was going to get broken.Most likely his heart.

You thought I was peculiar,” she said in a muffled voice.His mouth brushed the edge of her ear and settled against her neck. She felt that he was smiling. “Darling love… you are.

You’re mad,” he said in a low voice, “if you think I would leave you now. I’ll see you safe and well no matter what it takes.

I tried to curl around him, holding him with my arching body. His mouth was slow and searching, the kisses hard at first, then loosening as if unraveling from their own heat. The pleasure thickened, hard flushes rising through me, bringing the desire to full-slip ripeness.

And I wonder how Gage knew this is what my soul has craved. He turns me to face him, his eyes searching. It occurs to me that no one in my life has ever concerned himself so thoroughly with my happiness.

Asking an eight-year-old girl if something is a little over-the-top is like asking a Texan if there are too many jalapenos in the salsa. The answer is always no." -Liberty Jones

His kisses tapped into deep mines of memory, and the years that had separated us fell away as if they were nothing.

So if you were dating the UPS guy, he could buy you whatever the hell he wanted. But I cant."well...yes, but I'd never date the UPS guy. Those brown shorts are just not a turn-on for me.

You're so full of it, darlin'.

I looked down at the brochure nearest me."We're going to Nigeria," I threatened. "I hope you like elephant polo." -Liberty Jones

I think you could probably thaw out a glacier, honey." -Hardy Cates

I guess it's over now," I said bravely. "Right?""Is that what you want?"My throat clenched. I shook my head."What do you want, Haven?""I want you," I burst out, and the tears spilled over again. "But I can't have you."Hardy moved closer, gripping my head in his hands, forcing me to look at him. "Haven, sweetheart . . . you've already got me.

The trick was forgetting about what she had lost ...and learning to go on with what she had left.

Having your own church doesn't make you a good guy. It only makes you tax-exempt.

What you should really be sorry for," he continued, "is that for the rest of my life, I'll have to avoid wine cellars to keep from thinking about you.""Why? Was kissing me that bad?"A devil-solf whisper. "No sweetheart. It was that good.

I wanted more of those sweltering kisses. I felt terrible about that. But the warm sunny fragrance of him...he smelled better than any human being I'd ever met. "Okay" I said unsteadily, "forget what I said about not exchanging names. Who are you?""For you, honey...I'm trouble." -Haven & Hardy

If my wife finds comfort in trite Gispy homilies, I have no objection to your offering them. However, if you ever kiss her again, no matter how platonic the fashion, I'll make a eunuch of you.

St. Vincent and I didn't expect to fall in love. It caught us both unaware.""Yes, but how did you know?""It was the moment I realized he was willing to die for me. I don't think anyone, including St. Vincent, believed he was capable of self-sacrifice. It taught me that you can assume you know a person quite well- but that person can s-surprise you. Everything seemed to change from one moment to the next- suddenly he became the most important thing in the world to me.

Dearest," she murmured, "as you know, there was a time when it didn't matter to me whether I married a man I loved or not... it seemed enough just to get my family out of the desperate situation we were in. But when I thought about what it would be like to share a bed with my husband... to spend the rest of my life with him... I knew Simon was the only choice." She paused, and sudden tears glittered her eyes. Beautiful, self-possessed Annabelle, who hardly ever cried. "When I'm ill," she continued in a husky voice, "when I'm afraid, when I need something, I know he will move heaven and earth to make everything all right. I trust him with every fiber of my being. And when I see the child we created, the two of us mingled forever in her... my God, how grateful I am that I married Simon.

You're a strong woman, Annabelle. Stronger than I would have believed.""No, it's my love for you that is strong.

Reaching the brow of a stunted hill, Amelia paused in bewilderment at the sight of a towering contraption made of metal. It appeared to be a chute propped up on legs, tilted at a steep angle. Her attention was caught by a minor commotion farther afield … two men emerging from behind a small wooden shelter … they were shouting and waving their arms at her. Amelia instantly realized she had stumbled into danger, even before she saw the smoldering trail of sparks move, snakelike, along the ground toward the metal c

Dating is like trying to make a meal out of leftovers. Some leftovers actually get better when they've had a little time to mature. But others should be thrown out right away, No matter how you try to warm them up, they're never as good as when they were new.

The earl shook his head, exhibiting a degree of frosty offense that could only be achieved by an aristocrat whose wishes had just been gainsaid. “I’ve never heard of a man being so eager to confess to the parent of a girl he’s just ruined,” he said sourly.

You wanted to belong. The problem was, no matter how well you kept your secret, the very fact of having one was enough to separate you from everyone else.

I've needed someone like you for a long time. Now that I have you, no one is going to take you from me.Logan to Madeline

You think you want me now. But you'll change. Someday you'll find it damned easy to forget about me. I'm a bastard. A servant, and not even an upper servant at that--""You're the other half of me." (Again The Magic)

Coming up behind her, Westcliff settled his hands at her waist, easily dodging her attempts to throw him off. He pulled her hips back firmly against his and spoke against her ear. “Are you angry because I started making love to you, or because I didn’t finish?” Lillian licked her dry lips. “I’m angry, you bloody big hypocrite, because you can’t make up your mind about what to do with me.” She punctuated the comment with the hard jab of one elbow back against his ribs.” ~ Marcus and Lillian

...one can't avoid the storms and calamities of life, but one can at least find the right partner to face them with.

I want to fill every part of you, breathe the air from your lungs and leave my handprints on your soul. I want to give you more pleasure than you can bear.

They (mothers-in-law) never leave when they say they will. When my mother-in-law visits, the mice throw themselves at the cat, begging to be eaten.

Win told me that one isn’t improved by being at the top of the mountain, one is improved by the climb.

Although most advice should be distrusted, particularly when it comes from myself . . . keep an open mind, Miss Hathaway. One should never look a rich husband in the mouth." - St. Vincent

Oh, the way he was looking at her, really looking at her . . . this was the Christopher of her dreams. This was the man who had written to her. He was so caring, and real, and dazzling, that she wanted to weep.“I thought . . .” Christopher broke off and drew his thumb over the hot surface of her cheek.“I know,” she whispered, her nerves sparking in excitement at his touch.“I didn’t mean to do that.”“I know.”His gaze went to her parted lips, lingering until she felt it like a caress. Her heart labored to supply blood to her nerveless limbs. Every breath caused her body to lift up against his, a teasing friction of firm flesh and clean, warm linen.Beatrix was transfixed by the subtle changes in his face, the heightening color, the silver brightness of his eyes.She wondered if he were going to kiss her.And a single word flashed through her mind.Please. . .

Helen likes Brussels sprouts. How can anyone trust her opinion?

I’m going to take Charity to France. I can look after her there. You can go on with your life here, and I won’t be here to … to bother anyone.”He muttered two quiet words.“What?” she asked in bewilderment, inching forward to hea

I suppose when you say you slept with him, it was more than just a nap?"Lillian shot her a withering glance. "Daisy, don’t be a pea wit.

Beatrix wished she were a swooning sort of female. It seemed the only appropriate response to the situation.Unfortunately, no matter how she tried to summon a swoon, her mind remained intractably conscious.

Just look at the fellow, standing there like a bloody Greek god. Do you think she chose him because of his intellect?”“I graduated from Cambridge,” Christopher said acidly. “Should I have brought my diploma?

Women. You'll interpret anything as love. You see a man wearing an idiotic expression, and you assume he's been struck by Cupid's arrow when in reality, he's digesting a bad turnip.

There isn’t going to be a ‘next lover,’” Grant said automatically, outraged by the idea. “I’m the only man she’s going to have.

What do ladies wear beneath their riding trousers?""I would think an infamous rake would already know.""I was never infamous. In fact, I'm fairly standard as far as rakes go.""The ones who deny it are the worst.

It's a sin.""How do you know?""Because it feels like one," she managed to say.He laughed quietly and pulled her hips farther toward him with a decisiveness that drew a little yelp from her. "In that case...I never sin by half measures.

You took Theo's title and his home," West continued in appalled disbelief, "and now you want his wife.""His widow," Devon muttered."Have you seduced her?""Not yet."West clapped his hand to his forehead. "Christ. Don't you think she's suffered enough?

Everything you do or say interests me.""Really," she said skeptically. "What about Lord Westcliff's claim that I'm shallow and self-absorbed?"As she faced him, Simon braced one hand on the wall near her head and leaned over her protectively. His voice was very soft. "He doesn't know you.""And you do?""Yes, I know you." He reached out to finger a tendril of damp hair that clung to her neck. "You guard yourself carefully. You don't like to depend on anyone. You're determined and strong-willed, and you're decided in your opinions. Not to mention stubborn. But never self-absorbed. And anyone with your intelligence could never be called shallow.

My heart only beats as an echo of yours.

Sam was waiting for her,his gaze sweeping over her. "Looks great." "I look like a geek," Lucy said. "I smell like a brewery. And I need a bra.""My dream date.

Despite his flaws, one has to admit that he is a whale-sized catch.”“I’ll be thrilled when someone harpoons him,” Lillian muttered, making the other two laugh.

I know when something is too important to be decided by logic.

How kind of you to pay us a call, Uncle,” came the biting lash of Sebastian’s voice. “Come to offer us felicitations, have you?” “I’ve come to collect my niece,” Peregrine snarled. “She is promised to my son. Your illicit marriage will not stan

I hate you for all the years I 'll have to live without you. How can a heart hurt this much and still go on beating? How can I feel this bad without dying from it?I 've bruised my knees with praying to have you back. None of my prayers have been answered. I tried to send them up to heaven but they 're trapped here on earth, like bobwhites beneath the snow. I try to sleep and it's like I 'm suffocating.Where have you gone?Once you said that if I wasn't with you, it wouldn't be heaven.I can't let go of you. Come back and haunt me. Come back.

Nothing for young woman who yearned for something as extraordinary , and yet entirely normal , as love

It's a fine thing to be clever, but too much cleverness usually produces the same result as ignorance.-Lady Berwick

I had to admit the man looked amazing in jeans. The ancient denim clung lightly to his hips and followed the long lines of some remarkable thigh muscles. And although I made a point of not checking out his rear view, my peripheral vision was having a very good day.” ~ Haven Travis on Hardy Cates

The look of experience suited him, especially because somewhere deep in those eyes, there still lurked a dangerous invitation to play. He had a quality of masculine confidence that was a thousand times more potent than mere handsomeness. Perfect goodlooks could leave you cold, but this kind of sexy charisma went straight to your knees. -Haven Travis

He was unbelievably hard. Everywhere. He was in control, infinitely stronger, and he wanted me to know it. -Ella

Thunderstorms and rainbows wrapped together in a convenient pocket-sized parcel.

You are your own worst enemy. If you can learn to stop expecting impossible perfection, in yourself and others, you may find the happiness that has always eluded you.

If he was looking for fancy embellishment, or obvious signs of wealth, he was to be disappointed. Amanda couldn't bear pretension or impracticality, and so she had chosen furniture for function rather than for style. If she bought a chair, it must be large and comfortable. If she bought a side table, it must be sturdy enough to hold a stack of books or a big lamp. She did not like gilding and porcelain disks, nor all the carving and hieroglyphics that were certainly fashionable.

You must have traveled all night,” she heard herself say. “I had to come back early.” She felt his lips brush her tumbled hair. “I left some things unfinished. But I had a feeling you might need me. Tell me what’s happened, sweetheart.” Amelia opened her mouth to answer, but to her mortification, the only sound she could make was a sort of miserable croak. Her self-control shattered. She shook her head and choked on more sobs, and the more she tried to stop them, the worse they became. Cam gripped her firmly, deeply, into his embrace. The appalling storm of tears didn’t seem to bother him at all. He took one of Amelia’s hands and flattened it against his heart, until she could feel the strong, steady beat. In a world that was disintegrating around her, he was solid and real. “It’s all right,” she heard him murmur. “I’m here.” Alarmed by her own lack of self-discipline, Amelia made a wobbly attempt to stand on her own, but he only hugged her more closely. “No, don’t pull away. I’ve got you.” He cuddled her shaking form against his chest. Noticing Poppy’s awkward retreat, Cam sent her a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, little sister.” “Amelia hardly ever cries,” Poppy said. “She’s fine.” Cam ran his hand along Amelia’s spine in soothing strokes. “She just needs…” As he paused, Poppy said, “A shoulder to lean on.” “Yes.” He drew Amelia to the stairs, and gestured for Poppy to sit beside them. Cradling Amelia on his lap, Cam found a handkerchief in his pocket and wiped her eyes and nose. When it became apparent that no sense could be made from her jumbled words, he hushed her gently and held her against his large, warm body while she sobbed and hid her face. Overwhelmed with relief, she let him rock her as if she were a child. As Amelia hiccupped and quieted in his arms, Cam asked a few questions of Poppy, who told him about Merripen’s condition and Leo’s disappearance, and even about the missing silverware. Finally getting control of herself, Amelia cleared her aching throat. She lifted her head from Cam’s shoulder and blinked. “Better?” he asked, holding the handkerchief up to her nose. Amelia nodded and blew obediently. “I’m sorry,” she said in a muffled voice. “I shouldn’t have turned into a watering pot. I’m finished now.” Cam seemed to look right inside her. His voice was very soft. “You don’t have to be sorry. You don’t have to be finished, either.” She realized that no matter what she did or said, no matter how long she wanted to cry, he would accept it. And he would comfort her.

Virtue in a woman is like pepper in the soup. A little makes for a nice seasoning. Butoverdo it, and no one wants very much of you.

Bad divorce?" Hardy asked, his gaze falling to my hands. I realized I was clutching my purse in a death grip.“No, the divorce was great,” I said. “It was the marriage that sucked.

When you are in love' hypocrisy won over principle.

Just as Cam left Ivo Jenner’s apartments, St. Vincent met him in the hall. There was a scowl on the blond man’s face, and a vein of chilling arrogance in his tone. “If my wife finds comfort in trite Gypsy homilies, I have no objection to your offering them. However, if you ever kiss her again, no matter how platonic the fashion, I’ll make a eunuch of you.” The fact that St. Vincent could stoop to petty jealousy when Ivo Jenner was not yet cold in his bed might have outraged some men. Cam, however, regarded the autocratic viscount with speculative interest. Deliberately calibrating his reply to test the other man, Cam said softly, “Had I ever wanted her that way, I would have had her by now.” There it was— a flash of warning in St. Vincent’s ice-blue eyes that revealed a depth of feeling he would not admit to. Cam had never seen anything like the mute longing that St. Vincent felt for his own wife. No one could fail to observe that whenever Evie entered the room, St.Vincent practically vibrated like a tuning fork. “It is possible to care about a woman without wanting to bed her,” Cam pointed out. “But it appears that you don’t agree. Or are you so obsessed with her that you can’t fathom how anyone else could fail to feel the same?” “I’m not obsessed with her,” St. Vincent snapped. Leaning a shoulder against the wall, Cam stared into the man’s hard eyes, his usual reserve of patience nearly depleted. “Of course you are. Anyone could see it.” St. Vincent gave him a warning glance. “Another word,” he said thickly, “and you’ll go the way of Egan.” Cam raised his hands in a mocking gesture of self-defense. “Warning taken.

Daisy pulled away from Swift’s grasp. “You’ve changed,” she said, trying to collect herself. “You haven’t,” he replied. It was impossible to tell whether the remark was intended as compliment or criticism. “What were you doing at the well?” “I was…I thought…” Daisy searched in vain for a sensible explanation, but could think of nothing. “It’s a wishing well.” His expression was solemn, but there was a suspicious flicker in his vivid blue eyes as if he were secretly amused. “You have this on good authority, I take i

Ironically,” she commented, “this will be the first time I’ve ever done anything to please my father.” With a sympathetic murmur, Matthew gathered Daisy close against him. He knew her father as well as anyone, having become well acquainted with the man’s tempers, his self-absorption, his impossible standards. And yet he understood what it had required for Bowman to build a great fortune from scratch, the sacrifices he’d had to make. Bowman had discarded everything that would have gotten in the way of achieving his goals. Including closeness with his wife and children. For the first time it occurred to Matthew that Bowman and his family would benefit from someone acting as a mediator, to ease their communications with each other. If such a thing were in his power, he would find a way to do it. “You,” he whispered in Daisy’s hair, “are the best thing he’s ever done. Someday he’ll realize that.” He felt her smile against his skin. “I doubt it. But it’s nice of you to say so. You don’t have to be concerned on that account, you know. I reconciled myself to the way he was a long time ago.” Once again Matthew was taken unaware by the extent of the feelings she inspired in him, his own limitless desire to fill her with happiness. “Whatever you need,” he whispered, “Whatever you want, I’ll get it for you. Just tell me.” Daisy stretched comfortably, a pleasant shiver running through her limbs. She touched his lips with her fingers, tracing the smoothness. “I want to know what your five-dollar wish was for.” “Is that all?” He smiled beneath her exploring fingertips. “I wished you would find someone who wanted you as much as I did. But I knew it wouldn’t come true.” The candlelight slid over Daisy’s delicate features as she raised her head to look at him. “Why not?” “Because I knew no one could ever want you as much as I do.” Daisy levered herself farther over him until her hair tumbled in a dark curtain around them both. “What was your wish?” Matthew asked, combing his fingers through the fall of shimmering hair. “That I could find the right man to marry.” Her tender smile stopped his heart. “And then you appeared.

Today Amanda was dressed in a gown of soft pink wool trimmed in corded silk ribbon of a deeper shade. She had worn a bonnet adorned with China roses, which now reposed on the side of his desk, a pair of velvet ribbons draping gently toward the floor. The pink shade of the gown brought out the color in Amanda's cheeks, while the simple cut displayed her generous figure to its best advantage. Aside from Jack's considerable regard for her intelligence, he couldn't help thinking of her as a tidy little bonbon.

Sukey's approving glance swept over Amanda's black evening dress, made of shimmering crinkled silk that had been cut very low across the bosom and fitted tightly to her voluptuous shape. Rows of glittering jet beads adorned the bodice and long sleeves, while her gloves and shoes were of soft chamois leather. It was a sophisticated ensemble, one that made the most of Amanda's looks and generously displayed her bosom.

Every thought in his head disappeared the moment Vivien appeared and a collective sigh of admiration escaped the servants. She made her way downstairs unescorted, wearing a glimmering bronze gown that swirled around her hips and legs as if it were liquid metal. No other color could have brought out the richness of her hair or the peaches and cream of her complexion half so well. The low, scooped bodice pushed the mounds of her breasts up and together in a display that literally made Grant's mouth water. Swallowing hard, he stared at her while the brandy snifter wobbled precariously in his fingers. He was hardly aware of Kellow tactfully removing it from his unsteady grasp.The short, full sleeves exposed the curves of Vivien's shoulders, while her arms were encased in full-length white gloves. A French silk scarf of bronze trimmed in gold was draped loosely around her elbows. The only ornamentation on the gown was a stomacher of woven gold and bronze, cinched just above her small waist.

A gentle breeze rustled through the leaves, bringing with it the scent of fresh-turned earth and lavender blossoms. Amanda drew to the side of the balcony, where she was completely concealed from view. As she leaned against the wall of the house, the rough texture of the red brick gently abraded her bare shoulders.She had worn a pale blue, corded-silk gown with a low-cut back, and draperies of gauze that crossed over the bodice in an X pattern. The long sleeves of the gown were made of more transparent gauze, while her hands were encased in white gloves. The flash of her bare arms beneath the filmy blue silk made Amanda feel sophisticated and daring.

Derek cuddled his daughter against his shoulder and spoke in a mixture of baby words and cockney, a language only she seemed to understand.

I have an idea," Annabelle said, "Let's go to the kitchen and peek in the larder. I bet there's still some gooseberry cake left from dessert. Not to mention the strawberry jam trifle."Lillian lifted her head and blotted her wet nose on her sleeve. "Do you really think a plate of sweets will make me feel better?"Annabelle smiled. "It can't hurt, can it?"Lillian considered the point. "Let's go," she said, and allowed her friend to pull her up from the bench.

Damn it. What are we exactly calling a 'masculine problem'? Did he have trouble running the flag up? Or did it fall to half staff?"Do we have to speak about this metaphorically or-""Yes," Leo said firmly."All right. He..." Poppy frowned in concentration as she searched for the right words, "... left me while the flag was still flying.

Would it help,” he asked gently, “to have a shoulder to cry on?” She fought to conceal how much the question unnerved her. “Thank you, but no.” Carefully she dropped the herbs into the kettle. “Crying is a waste of time.” “‘ To weep is to make less the depth of grief.’” “Is that a Romany saying?” “Shakespeare.

You’re not responsible for everything. Your brother is an adult. So are Winnifred and Poppy. They agreed with your decision, didn’t they?” “Yes, but Leo wasn’t in his right mind. He still isn’t. And Win is frail, and—” “You like to blame yourself, don’t you? Come walk with me.” She set her empty wine cup at the corner of the stall, feeling light-headed. The second cup of wine had been a mistake. And going anywhere with Rohan, with night deepening and revelry all around them, would be yet another. But as she looked into his hazel eyes, she felt absurdly reckless. Just a few stolen minutes … she couldn’t resist the lawless mischief of his smile. “My family will worry if I don’t rejoin them soon.” “They know you’re with me.” “That’s why they’ll worry,” she said, making him laugh.

Her uneasy gaze skittered along the length of his arms, which were exposed by his rolled-up shirtsleeves... and stopped at the astonishing sight of a design that had been inked onto his right forearm. It was a small black horse with wings. Noticing her mesmerized stare, Rohan lowered his arm to give her a better view. "An Irish symbol," he murmured. "A nightmare horse, called a pooka."The absurd-sounding word brought a faint smile to Daisy's lips. "Does it wash off?" she asked hesitantly.He shook his head, his lashes half lowering over his remarkable eyes."Is a pooka like the Pegasus of the Greek myths?" Daisy asked, flattening herself as close to the wall as possible.Rohan glanced down her body, taking a kind of leisurely inventory that no man ever had before. "No. He's far more dangerous. He has eyes of yellow fire, a stride that clears mountains, and he speaks in a human voice as deep as a cave. At midnight, he may stop in front of your house and call out your name if he wants to take you for a ride. If you go with him, he'll fly you across earth and oceans... and if you ever return, your life will never be the same.

There's only one thing a bully respected: bigger bully.

Turning at the sound of voices, Amelia saw Merripen carrying her sister outside. Win was dressed in a nightgown and robe and swathed in a shawl, her slim arms looped around Merripen’s neck. With her white garments and blond hair and fair skin, Win was nearly colorless except for the flags of soft pink across her cheekbones and the vivid blue of her eyes. “… that was the most terrible medicine,” she was saying cheerfully. “It worked,” Merripen pointed out, bending to settle her carefully on the chaise. “That doesn’t mean I forgive you for bullying me into taking it.” “It was for your own good.” “You’re a bully,” Win repeated, smiling into his dark face. “Yes, I know,” Merripen murmured, tucking the lap blankets around her with extreme care. Delighted by the improvement in her sister’s condition, Amelia smiled. “He really is dreadful. But if he manages to persuade more villagers to help clean the house, you will have to forgive him, Win.” Win’s blue eyes twinkled. She spoke to Amelia, while her gaze remained on Merripen. “I have every faith in his powers of persuasion.

Standing before the worn books and dusty shelves, she seemed like a ray of light in the windowless room.

She felt tears slip from beneath her lashes, no matter how she tried to blink them back. Her heart was ablaze. It seemed that her entire life had led to this man, this moment of unexpressed love.

I think in a moment of weakness, you might surprise yourself.

It’s like your whole life you’ve been falling toward the earth, until the moment someone catchesyou. And you realize that somehow you’ve caught her at the same time. And together, instead offalling, you might be able to fly.” The ghost went to the discarded clipping and stared down at thephoto, riveted. “She’s a beaut, isn’t she?”“Sure,” Alex said automatically, although there was nothing of Zoë’s sparkling allure in thephoto, only a hint of resemblance.

There was something wonderful about the atmosphere at Stony Cross Park. One could easily imagine it as some magical place set in some far-off land. The surrounding forest was so deep and thick as to be primeval in appearance, while the twelve-acre garden behind the manor seemed too perfect to be real. There were groves, glades, ponds, and fountains. It was a garden of many moods, alternating tranquility with colorful tumult. A disciplined garden, every blade of grass precisely clipped, the corners of the box hedges trimmed to knife blade crispness. Hatless, gloveless, and infused with a sudden sense of optimism, Annabelle breathed deeply of the country air. She skirted the edge of the terraced gardens at the back of the manor and followed a graveled path set between raised beds of poppies and geraniums. The atmosphere soon became thick with the perfume of flowers, as the path paralleled a drystone wall covered with tumbles of pink and cream roses.Wandering more slowly, Annabelle crossed through an orchard of ancient pear trees, sculpted by decades into fantastic shapes. Farther off, a canopy of silver birch led to woodland beds that appeared to melt seamlessly into the forest beyond.

She closed her eyes and listened to the drone of bees as they moved lazily among the flowering bursts of deep pink hydrangea and delicate tendrils of sweet pea that wound through the basket-bed borders. Although she was still very weak, it was pleasant to sit in warm lethargy, half-drowsing like a cat.She was slow to respond when she heard a sound from the doorway... a single light rap, as if the visitor was reluctant to disrupt her reverie with a loud knock. Blinking her sun-dazzled eyes, Annabelle remained sitting with her legs tucked beneath her. The mass of light speckles gradually faded from her vision, and she found herself staring at Simon Hunt's dark, lean form. He had leaned part of his weight on the doorjamb, bracing a shoulder against it in an unselfconsciously rakish pose. His head was slightly tilted as he considered her with an unfathomable expression.Annabelle's pulse escalated to a mad clatter. As usual, Hunt was dressed impeccably, but the gentlemanly attire did nothing to disguise the virile energy that seemed to emanate from him. She recalled the hardness of his arms and chest as he had carried her, the touch of his hands on her body... oh, she would never be able to look at him again without remembering!"You look like a butterfly that's just flown in from the garden," Hunt said softly.

i've had enough of this. if you'll excuse me, i'm going to find a tavern where i can pay an underdressed woman to sit it my lap and look very pleased with me while i drink heavily

The situation was extraordinary. How someone like Evangeline Jenner could have wrought such a change in St. Vincent, the most worldly of men, was difficult to understand. However, Westcliff had learned that the mysteries of attraction could not always be explained through logic. Sometimes the fractures in two separate souls became the very hinges that held them together.

The truth is, you can never really know a man until you've loaned him money. And you can never know a woman until you've slept in her bed.

Westcliff thinks that St. Vincent is in love with you.”Evie choked a little and didn’t dare look up from her tea. “Wh-why does he think that?”“He’s known St. Vincent from childhood, and can read him fairly well. And Westcliff sees an odd sort of logic in why you would finally be the one to win St. Vincent’s heart. He says a girl like you would appeal to…hmm, how did he put it?…I can’t remember the exact words, but it was something like… you would appeal to St. Vincent’s deepest, most secret fantasy.” Evie felt her cheeks flushing while a skirmish of pain and hope took place in the tired confines of her chest. She tried to respond sardonically. “I should think his fantasy is to consort with as many women as possible.”A grin crossed Lillian’s lips. “Dear, that is not St. Vincent’s fantasy, it’s his reality. And you’re probably the first sweet, decent girl he’s ever had anything to do with.

With all due respect," Christopher muttered, "this conversation is leading nowhere. At least one of you should point out that Beatrix deserves a better man.""That's what I said about my wife," Leo remarked. "Which is why I married her before she could find one.

I’m going to Bristol,” Matthew said desperately. “I’ll reschedule the meetings. I won’t do anything without your leave. But at least I can gather information— interview the local transport firm, have a look at their horses—” “Swift,” the earl interrupted. Something in his quiet tone, a note of… kindness?… sympathy?… caused Matthew to stiffen defensively. “I understand the reason for your urgency—” “No, you don’t.” “I understand more than you might think. And in my experience, these problems can’t be solved by avoidance. You can never run far or fast enough.” Matthew froze, staring at Westcliff. The earl could have been referring either to Daisy, or to Matthew’s tarnished past. In either case he was probably right. Not that it changed anything. “Sometimes running is the only choice,” Matthew replied gruffly, and left the room without looking back.

I love you," she said wretchedly. “And if I were well, no power on earth could keep me away from you. If I were well, I would take you to my bed, and I would show you as much passion as any woman could.

Mr. Rohan,” she heard Beatrix ask, “are you going to marry my sister?” Amelia choked on her tea and set the cup down. She sputtered and coughed into her napkin. “Hush, Beatrix,” Win murmured. “But she’s wearing his ring�

I wonder how Merripen is faring,” Win said, her blue eyes soft with concern. Merripen, the cook-maid, and the footman had gone to the house two days earlier to prepare for the Hathaways’ arrival. “No doubt he’s been working ceaselessly day and night,” Amelia replied, “taking inventory, rearranging everything in sight, and issuing commands to people who don’t dare disobey him. I’m sure he’s quite happy.

Snuggling comfortably in her corner, Beatrix gave her older sister a perplexed glance. “Win? You have the oddest look on your face. Is something the matter?” Win had frozen in the act of lifting a teacup to her lips, her blue eyes round with alarm. Following her sister’s gaze, Amelia saw a small reptilian creature slithering up Beatrix’s shoulder. A sharp cry escaped her lips, and she moved forward with her hands raised. Beatrix glanced at her shoulder. “Oh, drat. You’re supposed to stay in my pocket.” She plucked the wriggling object from her shoulder and stroked him gently. “A spotted sand lizard,” she said. “Isn’t he adorable? I found him in my room last night.” Amelia lowered her hands and stared dumbly at her youngest sister. “You’ve made a pet of him?” Win asked weakly. “Beatrix, dear, don’t you think he would be happier in the forest where he belongs?” Beatrix looked indignant. “With all those predators? Spot wouldn’t last a minute.” Amelia found her voice. “He won’t last a minute with me, either. Get rid of him, Bea, or I’m going to flatten him with the nearest heavy object I can find.” “You would murder my pet?” “One doesn’t murder lizards, Bea. One exterminates them.” Exasperated, Amelia turned to Merripen. “Find some cleaning women in the village, Merripen. God knows how many other unwanted creatures are lurking in the house. Not counting Leo.” Merripen disappeared at once. “Spot is the perfect pet,” Beatrix argued. “He doesn’t bite, and he’s already house-trained.” “I draw the line at pets with scales.” Beatrix stared at her mutinously. “The sand lizard is a native species of Hampshire—which means Spot has more right to be here than we do.” “Nevertheless, we will not be cohabiting.

You may choose to live like a miser,” Leo said, “but I’ll be damned if I have to. You’re incapable of enjoying the moment because you’re always intent on tomorrow. Well, for some people, tomorrow never come

I’m tired of sitting. I’m tired of watching everyone else work. I can set my own limits, Amelia. Let me do as I wish.” “No.” Incredulously Amelia watched as Win picked up a broom from the corner. “Win, put that down and stop being silly!” Annoyance whipped through her. “You’re not going to help anyone by expending all your reserves on menial tasks.” “I can do it.” Win gripped the broom handle with both hands as if she sensed Amelia was on the verge of wrenching it away from her. “I won’t overtax myself.” “Put down the broom.” “Leave me alone,” Win cried. “Go dust something!” “Win, if you don’t—” Amelia’s attention was diverted as she saw her sister’s gaze fly to the kitchen threshold. Merripen stood there, his broad shoulders filling the doorway. Although it was early morning, he was already dusty and perspiring, his shirt clinging to the powerful contours of his chest and waist. He wore an expression they knew well—the implacable one that meant you could move a mountain with a teaspoon sooner than change his mind about something. Approaching Win, he extended a broad hand in a wordless demand. They were both motionless. But even in their stubborn opposition, Amelia saw a singular connection, as if they were locked in an eternal stalemate from which neither wanted to break free. Win gave in with a helpless scowl. “I have nothing to do.” It was rare for her to sound so peevish. “I’m sick of sitting and reading and staring out the window. I want to be useful. I want…” Her voice trailed away as she saw Merripen’s stern face. “Fine, then. Take it!” She tossed the broom at him, and he caught it reflexively. “I’ll just find a corner somewhere and quietly go mad. I’ll—” “Come with me,” Merripen interrupted calmly. Setting the broom aside, he left the room. Win exchanged a perplexed glance with Amelia, her vehemence fading. “What is he doing?” “I have no idea.” The sisters followed him down a hallway to the dining room, which was spattered with rectangles of light from the tall multipaned windows that lined one wall. A scarred table ran down the center of the room, every available inch covered with dusty piles of china … towers of cups and saucers, plates of assorted sizes sandwiched together, bowls wrapped in tattered scraps of gray linen. There were at least three different patterns all jumbled together. “It needs to be sorted,” Merripen said, gently nudging Win toward the table. “Many pieces are chipped. They must be separated from the rest.” It was the perfect task for Win, enough to keep her busy but not so strenuous that it would exhaust her. Filled with gratitude, Amelia watched as her sister picked up a teacup and held it upside down. The husk of a tiny dead spider dropped to the floor. “What a mess,” Win said, beaming. “I’ll have to wash it, too, I suppose.” “If you’d like Poppy to help—” Amelia began. “Don’t you dare send for Poppy,” Win said. “This is my project, and I won’t share it.” Sitting at a chair that had been placed beside the table, she began to unwrap pieces of china.

What happened?” she asked, dropping to the damp ground beside Win. “Has Merripen been burned?” “Yes, on his back.” Win ripped a makeshift bandage from the hem of her own gown. “Beatrix, would you take this, please, and soak it in water?” Without a word, Beatrix scampered to the trough at the handpump. Win stroked Merripen’s thick black hair as he rested his head on his forearms. His breath hissed unevenly through his teeth. “Does it hurt, or is it numb?” Amelia asked. “Hurts like the devil,” he choked out. “That’s a good sign. A burn is much more serious if it’s numb.” He turned his head to give her a speaking glance.

Do you know what a balance wheel is?” She shook her head slightly. “There’s one in every clock or watch. It rotates back and forth without stopping. It’s what makes the ticking sound...what makes the hands move forward to mark the minutes. Without it, the watch wouldn’t work. You’re my balance wheel, Poppy.” -Harry Rutledge

Marriag

My mistakes are usually so enjoyable that I tend torepeat them.

They reached the summit of a shallow incline and were greeted with a surprising vista of bluebells that blanketed the forest floor. It was like stumbling into a dream, the cerulean haze seeping between the trunks of oak and beech and ash. The smell of bluebells was everywhere, the perfumed air feeling heavy and rich in her lungs.Pausing by a slender tree trunk, Annabelle curled her arm around it loosely and stared at the stands of bluebells with surprised pleasure. "Lovely," she murmured, her face gleaming in the shadow cast by the canopy of ancient, interlaced branches."Yes." But Hunt was looking at her, not the bluebells, and one glance at his expression caused the blood to tingle in her veins.

One isn't improved by being at the top of the mountain, one is improved by the climb."- Poppy (quoting Win)

A good conversation always involves a certain amount of complaining. I like to bond over mutual hatreds and petty grievances.

I'm agnostic," I told him. "I'd be an atheist, except I believe in hedging my bets.

Thankyou,"Catherine said, the smile still hovering on her lips. "That is kind of you my lord. But i will never dance with you." Which, ofcourse, made it the goal of leo's life.

Kev wasn't certain if he was surrendering to Win or to his own passion for her. Only that there was no more holding back. He would take her. And he would give her everything he had, every part of his soul, even the broken pieces.

Feeling the slight tremor of his fingers against her skin, Daisy was emboldened to remark, “I’ve never been attracted to tall men before. But you make me feel—” “If you don’t keep quiet,” he interrupted curtly, “I’m going to strangle you.” Daisy felt silent, listening to the rhythm of his breath as it turned deeper, less controlled. By contrast his fingers became more certain in their task, working along the row of pearls until her dress gaped open and the sleeves slipped from her shoulders. “Where is it?” he asked. “The key?”His tone was deadly. “Yes, Daisy. The key.” “It fell inside my corset. Which means… I’ll have to take that off too.” There was no reaction to the statement, no sound or movement. Daisy twisted to glance at Matthew. He seemed dazed. His eyes looked unnaturally blue against the flush on his face. She realized he was occupied with a savage inner battle to keep from touching her. Feeling hot and prickly with embarrassment, Daisy pulled her arms completely out of her sleeves. She worked the dress over her hips, wriggling out of the filmy white layers, letting them slide to the floor in a heap. Matthew stared at the discarded dress as if it were some kind of exotic fauna he had never seen before. Slowly his eyes returned to Daisy, and an incoherent protest came from his throat as she began to unhook her corset. She felt shy and wicked, undressing in front of him. But she was encouraged by the way he seemed unable to tear his gaze from each newly revealed inch of pale skin. When the last metal hook came apart, she tossed the web of lace and stays to the floor. All that remained over her breasts was a crumpled chemise. The key had dropped into her lap. Closing her fingers around the metal object, she risked a cautious glance at Matthew. His eyes were closed, his forehead scored with furrows of pained concentration. “This isn’t going to happen,” he said, more to himself than to her. Daisy leaned forward to tuck the key into his coat pocket. Gripping the hem of her chemise, she stripped it over her head. A tingling shock chased over her naked upper body. She was so nervous that her teeth had begun to chatter. “I just took my chemise off,” she said. “Don’t you want to look?” “No.” But his eyes had opened, and his gaze found her small, pink-tipped breasts, and the breath hissed through his clenched teeth. He sat without moving, staring at her as she untied his cravat and unbuttoned the layers of his waistcoat and shirt. She blushed everywhere but continued doggedly, rising to her knees to tug the coat from his shoulders. He moved like a dreamer, slowly pulling his arms from the coat sleeves and waistcoat. Daisy pushed his shirt open with awkward determination, her gaze drinking in the sight of his chest and torso. His skin gleamed like heavy satin, stretched taut over broad expanses of muscle. She touched the powerful vault of his ribs, trailing her fingertips to the rippled tautness of his midriff. Suddenly Matthew caught her hand, seemingly undecided whether to push it away or press it closer. Her fingers curled over his. She stared into his dilated blue eyes. “Matthew,” she whispered. “I’m here. I’m yours. I want to do everything you’ve ever imagined doing with me.” He stopped breathing. His will foundered and collapsed, and suddenly nothing mattered except the demands of a desire that had been denied too long. With a rough groan of surrender, he lifted her onto his lap.

A man's vanity is more fragile that you might think. It's easy for us to mistake shyness for coldness, and silence for indifference.

You must learn to ignore what people say,” Sebastian murmured, coming to her. Standing behind her, he rested his fingers lightly on her shoulders, causing her to start a little. “You’ll be much happier that way.” Suddenly his voice was tipped with amusement. “I’ve learned that while gossip about others is often true, it’s never true when it is about oneself.