No amount of careful grooming seemed to erase their impression that he was actually a foul and frightening ogre. It was enough to give a fellow self-doubts.

It was if the devil himself had devised the perfect earthly torture for Lady Alicia Lawrence. “Now how will I occupy myself when I get to hell?

He then, with great presence of mind, put a stop to any further recriminations by kissing her; and his indignant betrothed, apparently feeling that he was too deeply sunk in depravity to be reclaimable, abandoned (for the time being, at all events) any further attempt to bring him to a sense of his iniquity.

I've never kissed an art forger before" Lord Huntington to Eliza Somerton in "An Artful Seduction

But marriage is forever.''Oh, not really,' he assured her. 'Only until one of us dies.'Her eyes widened. 'I do not want you to die,' she said.'Perhaps you will go first,' he said, 'though I rather think I hope not. I would probably have grown accustomed to you by then and would miss you.

But marriage is forever.''Oh, not really,' he assured her. 'Only until one of us dies.'Her eyes widened. 'I do not want you to die,' she said.'Perhaps you will go first,' he said, though I rather think I hope not. I would probably have grown accustomed to you by then and would miss you.

You are not by any manner of means the sort of woman I am in search of as a wife, and I am in a totally different universe from the husband you hope to find. But I feel a powerful urge to kiss you, for all that.

His friend laughed. 'You missed your calling, Freddie,' he said. 'You should have been one of the aforementioned clergy. Is this what marriage does to you? One shudders at the very idea.

People do understand the language of the heart, you know, even if the head does not always comprehend it.

It was William who would climb out of his carriage unafraid and help a farmer drive a herd of cattle or sheep across a road when necessary.

Te amo, Querida," he whispered, stroking her hair. "Tu eres mi luz en la oscuridad." I love you. You are my light in the darkness.

Lydia is enduring the same fate, I may remind you." Vincent remarked. "And she is doubtless freezing, being forced to stand there in only her chemise." A rakish smile spread across his features. "Perhaps we could go down and have a peek."Rafe scowled. "I don't want you looking at my woman." Vincent folded his arms and glared. "Well, I don't want you looking at my woman!

I need to go hunting now," he rasped. Before I tear off your clothes and plunge my c*** and my fangs inside you.

Te amo, Querida," he whispered suddenly, stroking her hair. "Tu eres mi luz en la oscuridad." "This is the second time you've said that," Cassandra murmured. "What does it mean?" "I love you." His voice was as rough as his hand on her cheek was gentle. "You are my light in the darkness.

Rafael possessed unfathomable strength. His speed defied the laws of nature...and his bite, good God, his bite. How could something so macabre feel so pleasurable?

It may be small comfort, but I believe Rafe doesn't want to kill you." A light laugh escaped her lips. "Actually, that is a substantial comfort.

You should know that Rafael is not the beast he would have you believe he is. He may be harsh, but he is fair. However, I highly recommend that you endeavor to be on his good side." She raised a brow. "Does he have one?

Rafe pulled Cassandra into his arms. "At first, I wanted my arm back to feel whole again and to not appear weak before my enemies. Now I only want it to hold you.

Rafe tugged her closer before she could trip over a gravestone. "Damn it, woman. Devil take your wagon! You fail to grasp the severity of this situation.

There was no need to analyze the feelings that the people caught in the commission of the amorous act, held for each other, for it was literally written in their hands.

My disadvantages will tire him as they would any reasonable man of small expectations." - Jane Adams

Where do you prefer to sit, Sir?" (Lady Alexandra to William, the Duke, during her mail-order bride interview.)

We must go to the laboratory at once. I have some cannabis.

One word frees us of all the weight and pain of life.That word is love."(Sophocles)by Adam Harford, Duke of Harford,from the last page of "Sophie's Salvation

Either way, he was always staring into a bottomless pit, or into a whirlpool that forever sucked him inexorably inward to its vortex.

The only thing he was sorry for was slamming the door and perhaps raising his voice to the woman who'd been like a mother to him since the passing of his parents. Perhaps she hadn't really deserved his reaction, but he was, justifiably, weary of their meddling and hearing about his father's will. Apparently no suitable maiden was going to appear on his doorstep. He seemed to be looking for a needle in a haystack.

Love is ease.

Call it what you like, my lady, but it is still spying.

He clutched her to him with a desperate strength that almost hurt. "I will love you for your light, if you can love me through the dark times. And that love will be like the clear night sky when the moon is full. Not like the sun....but beautiful and bright enough to find our way.

to want any woman so badly was unwise, let alone his enemy's daughter." An Artful Seduction

Love will find a way against time itself.

If I could,” he went on, “I would remain like this indefinitely—clasped by you, held inside you, a part of you—without moving at all. When we make love, I fight climax with everything I have. I don’t want to come; I do not want it to end. No matter how long I make it last, it isn’t nearly long enough. I am furious when I cannot hold back any longer. Why, Jess? If all I seek is the physical relief of natural lust, just as I would seek sleep or food, why would I deny myself?”She turned her head and caught his mouth with hers, kissing him desperately.“Tell me you understand,” he demanded, his lips moving beneath hers. “Tell me you feel it, too.”“I feel you,” she breathed, as intoxicated by his ardency as she was by the finest claret. “You have become everything to me.

He knew he could worm his way beneath her defenses—he’d read every word of those diaries. He knew the one absolute way to fulfill her every dream. The problem was, could he do that to her? He didn’t have to. He could turn about this moment and ride away. Yet that would mean leaving her forever.

A hot romp is timeless ...

I know you do not think very highly of me, but in some circles, I'm quite the thing.

I love stepping back in time

This was the kind of kiss you remembered when you were a very old lady with a very poor memory.

Every morning," he said softly, his breath caressing her cheek. "You were my only thought." He tilted closer. "Every night, you were my only thought." His lips brushed her cheekbone. "Every moment of every day, you were my only thought.

I may be dead inside, but I'm more than alive enough for you." He gripped her chin and covered her mouth with his.

He tasted like Edmund, smelled like Edmund, felt like second chances. He kissed her as if she were as indispensable as air. As though his every heartbeat belonged as much to her as it did to him.

She turned to him with wide, shocked eyes. "Why did he..." His lips twitched. No coarse language in front of the infants limited the ability to discuss the fountain of baby piss that had just arced halfway across the room. "Twasn't you, darling. It's one of their favorite bath-time games. "Something about the cool air on their naked...berries," he substituted at the last second.... "Do I have piddle in my hair?" she whispered, her eyes sparkling with laughter above her flushed cheeks. "Not much," he assured her with a straight face. "You look almost becoming."... "Decades from now, when our children ask how I fell in love with their mother, I'll say 'twas her sweet, gentle compliments during bath-time, and her fleetness of foot whilst dodging a flow of ---

I've come to seduce you." His pupils dilated as his gaze heated. She smiled. He hadn't been surprised at her presence, but he'd been very surprised at the reason. He held up a palm. "By all means.

Can't sleep?" he murmured, the corners of his eyes crinkling. She blushed, but held his gaze. "Don't wish to sleep." "Mmm. I can help with that."... "Do you have anything particular in mind?" "Everything.

The point is, people have been having babies for thousands of years. There will be frightening moments and exhausting moments, but more than anything---" "--- there will just be love.

Be thankful all she did was raise her voice," Mr. Blackpool told Sarah conspiratorially. "During the ride to London, I had to talk her out of scaling up the townhouse walls, should the door go unanswered." She had to hide her smile at the image of flamboyant Mrs. Blackpool climbing row houses like a circus monkey. "We are fortunate indeed that such measures did not prove necessary.

Let me give you one piece of advice. Do not get between a woman and her cause.

It was so unlikely that she should be there, standing on the far side of the ballroom, and yet there she was. Unlikely Lucy, gleaming, a jade flame burning bright in a sea of mere diamonds. Polished and disheveled at the same time, her fitted, elegant gown contrasted with hair that looked as if it had been precariously arranged and might escape its pins at any moment.

Being a pioneering reformer is all fine and good, but it does leave one terribly in want of agood party!

The Earl of Blackstone didn’t seem particularly mysterious to Emily. In fact, as he stood there silently—except for that sneering laugh he’d tried to cover up—she could think of several other adjectives to add to the list next time Sarah was searching for one: rude, self-important, boorish. And, if one could judge by the slightly slack-jawed way he stared at her, perhaps even “simple.

To Jane's horror, he unfolded her paper and read aloud. "Possible Candidates as Lovers.

The earl narrowed his eyes as he hopped off his bay gelding and surveyed the deep green expanse of lawn surrounding the ancestral home. The graceful house, built atop and around an ancient abbey, wore its centuries of accretion with aplomb, as if it had always perched atop thisgentle slope. In the slanting late afternoon sun, the fading red-brick walls glowed. “My God, I hate the country,” he said.

So the Bawdy Bluestocking was the proprietress of her own shop, selling lurid novels to ladies in the front and more esoteric fare in the back, from the looks of the shelves around him. He spied Pope and Crabbe, Shakespeare, of course, and names he did not recognize at all. He wondered how she chose her stock and where it came from. She must spend her days in endless research. The thought was unaccountably lovely to him.

Hetty shivered. Goodness, he had no business looking at her like that. Physician my eye! Physicians definitely didn't look like him; they were short, round and adorned with wigs and spectacles.

Devilment showed in his eyes. “Well, since it is a trial, we should practice so that we can perfect our kisses.”“You need no practice. You are clearly an expert.

Papa had always told Justine that guns had a remarkable capacity to focus the mind. She couldn’t say with any confidence that her actions had cleared the minds of the drunken louts before her, but she’d sharpened their attention. They gaped at her, slack-mouth and stupefied, trying to make sense of what their bleary eyes told them.

Good night, my lord.” The words were pronounced in her most withering tone.By contrast, he remained quite alarmingly unwithered long after she left.

A gentleman can’t let a lady sleep in an armchair while he takes his ease in a bed.”“But you are not a gentleman,” she pointed out. “You are the greatest scoundrel in all the land.”He tilted his head to consider that. “All right. You take the chair.

She narrowed her gaze. “I don’t trust you to keep your eyes closed.”“Smart woman,” he said. “I wouldn’t trust me, either, if I were you.

I only hope I may not be ruined,” she was saying miserably. “I should be obliged to marry you after all, and then I’d likely murder you before the wedding breakfast was over.

Keep your hands off me.” She spoke viciously, through her teeth, and he caught a glimpse of her deVere ancestry. She was a virago in tiny, fragile, fairy form.

Tears blurred her vision as she leaned over him. His mouth was surely made for smiling. For laughing. For kissing. Grief welled up along with the feeling that he might never do any of those things again.She closed her eyes and pressed her lips to his. They were cool and unresponsive.Then they parted.She jerked back, saw his eyes flutter open.“Don’t stop now,” he whispered.

Linnet’s thudding heart raced blood through her veins, sending a flush of embarrassing heat to her face. She had been avoiding him, but she could never tell him why. It took all her discipline not to quail under Sir Anthony’s penetrating gaze. Blast the man. She’d lost count of the times he’d made her feel like a blushing maiden. Strictly speaking, she was still a maiden, but she’d given up blushing years ago—along with simpering, flirting, and so many other talents deemed useful to unmarried women. Except, of course, in Sir Anthony’s august presence.

Life is, you know, but an idea. You can fill it up with anything really and deceive yourself into believing that is what you need. You can be happy, sad, benevolent, crafty, unpleasant. That man filled it up with nastiness and it destroyed him in the end. I wonder what could have made him that way. Cruelty on the part of others or cruelty in his heart?" - Lady Cavendish

I am still not used to being the possessor of such a grand title. I believe I shall have to start wearing a purple satin turban and carrying a lorgnette.

I choose to believe that my father is still alive, that he has survived death, outlived us all, and possesses the soul that goes on and lives forever; We just cannot see him yet, for we have not caught up with him. our time will come just as his did. and no matter how woeful and lost I was when he passed away, I know I will be glad to go to a place where I can see him, and know he is okay and happy. It’s just not my time yet and there is no way of knowing if any of it is true." - Jane Adams