I don’t want to marry you. I don’t want to want you,” he added fiercely, taking one measured step toward her, then another. “And I sure as hell don’t want to love you. But, God help me, I just can’t stop myself.” Closing the rest of the distance between them in a single stride, he snatched her up by the shoulders, his burning gaze searching her face as if to sear her features into his memory. “I don’t want to marry you because I love you too much to ask you to spend the rest of your life hiding in the shadows.
Of course not! I knew you would protect me. You swore that you were strong enough to protect Vivienne, didn’t you? How can you promise to protect my sister, but not trust yourself to keep me safe?” The music swelled to a crescendo. Although Adrian kept her imprisoned against the muscular length of his body, he gave up all pretense of dancing. “Because I don’t lose my wits every time Vivienne walks into a room. I don’t toss and turn in my bed every night dreaming of making love to her. She doesn’t drive me to distraction with her endless questions, her incessant snooping, her harebrained schemes.” His voice rose. “I can trust myself to protect your sister because I’m not in love with her!
As he shook off his servant’s grip and staggered heavily to his feet, the sunlight streaming through the outside door struck him full in the face.Samantha gasped.A fresh scar, still red and angry, bisected the corner of his left eye and descended down his cheek in a jagged lightning bolt, drawing the skin around it taut. It had once been an angel’s face with the sort of masculine beauty reserved only for princes and seraphim.
Stand and yield," she called out, her voice far steadier than her hands. "For I cannot allow you to pass." Bannor's crooked grin was somehow more intimidating than a snarl. 'Twould have been far easier to despise him if he'd been cursed with horns and a tail instead of twinkling blue eyes and a dimple in his jaw. "What would you have me yield, my lady? My sword or my heart?"-willow&bannor-
Arian's ebony hair was spread in a shimmering fan around her shoulders, reminding Tristan absurdly of Snow White in her glass coffin. Even in death, hadn't the deceptive blush of life stained Snow White's pallid cheeks? Hadn't her rosebud lips parted as if to welcome a kiss from a prince who might never come? Hadn't the creamy swell of her breasts tantalized every hopelessly naive kid in the theater into daring to believe her chest would rise just one more time?
He caught her bythe shoulders and gave her a hard little shake. "Do you think you're so charming in that silly little nightdress that I can't resist tumbling you? Do you think I have no pride when it comes to you?""B-b-but I—""Well, you're right," he shouted. "I don't!"With that, his lips came down on hers