Quotes from Lynn Kurland

I am her husband!" "Then you can remain unnamed as her one great love whilst her husband looks on unwittingly." Hamlet sighed in satisfaction. "Ah, what romance there is in the world today!" "Hamlet," Richard said, taking his guardsman by the shoulders and giving him a sharp shake. "I wed the girl not a fortnight ago." Hamlet blinked. "And I bedded her as well!" Hamlet began to look rather crestfallen.

Richard was jealous. He was jealous and he'd followed her, intending to kiss the hell out of her to show her.

I am not a gentle man," Richard said, against her mouth. "Uh-huh," she said as he lifted her in his arms. "Nor am I a practiced lover," he said as he carried her across the room. "Nobody's perfect," she managed as he lowered her to the bed. "But I do love you," he said as he stretched out next to her and leaned over her. "And I will give you the best that I have.

She felt sleep creeping up on her like a relentless tide. She tried to summon up a craving for German chocolates. Or New York traffic. Late-night television. Nope. What she really needed was currently scratching her back with the most careful of scratches, humming an off-key melody under his breath. Jessica smiled.

A storm is coming in and I feared you would be frightened." "I love storms." "We'll see," he said. "I daresay you'll need my strong arms around you to make you feel safe.

She held out her hand. "What is it you want?" he rumbled. "Your ring." He frowned. "And if I'm not inclined to give it?" "Then you'll have a few silent days to look forward to." She lifted her eyebrows in challenge. "And you know how good I am at that." He muttered under his breath as he pulled off the ring and handed it to her.

She even managed to avoid various and sundry bits of animal husbandry that seemed to find warm, fallish tarmac to be to their liking. She'd never thought of sheep as a road hazard, but there you had it. When in Scotland, look out for white, fuzzy impediments to your journey.

He was, and she had to swallow very hard to keep from choking, the most terribly beautiful man she had ever seen. He had a long, wicked scar that traveled from his temple down his cheek to the side of his chin and below his jaw. Somehow, though, it just didn't detract from his handsomeness, dark though that was. His face was all planes and angles, harsh even in the deepening gloom. His hair was dark and his eyes were full of cynicism.

a barnacle on the yacht of prosperity

You're trembling," he said. "I think I'm scared." "But why?" He smoothed his hand over her hair. "I was a fool to have left you alone, but it won't happen again." "I've never had anyone try to kill me before." Richard patted her back gently. "'Tis a bit unnerving the first time.

Damn that woman!

What's in your other hand?" "A message I need to have sent," he lied blithely. "I'll leave you to your work." "Without a kiss?" He definitely felt his mouth twitch that time. "You're baiting me." "And enjoying it very much, thank you." "I haven't the time for it now," he said. "I've a very important matter to attend to. Perhaps later.

Jessica," he whispered hoarsely. "Ah, merciful saints above, I thought I'd never have you again." He clutched her to him. "Say you'll never leave me. Vow you'll never leave my arms again. Nay, I'll never let you go." He held her tighter. "Nothing will take you from me again, not even time. No more wishes. No more wishes unless we make them together.

What?" Richard demanded. John merely shook his head and smiled. "She rides very well." "What?" Richard turned to see his horse's rump now far in the distance. "Damn that woman!

How'd you like to come here and give your knight in shining armor a big ol' kiss?

She was sitting in a garden more beautiful than even her rampaging imagination could ever have conjured up, and she was being serenaded by trees.

I am a connoisseur of fine irony. 'Tis a bit like fine wine, but it has a better bite.

Say me aye," he whispered against her mouth. "Say me aye." How could she say anything else?

I could tell you a tale about something,' Miach offered, rubbing her hand absently. 'If you like.' She frowned thoughtfully. 'What sort of something?' 'Something that would soothe you,' he promised. 'I'm sure there would be swords involved. Bloodshed. Peril. That kind of thing.

He stopped and looked at her. "Your eyes are leaking." "It's the flowers. They make me sneeze." "Then let us be away from the garden. Open the door, love, if you will." She obeyed, then froze halfway over the threshold. "What did you call me?" "The first of countless endearments if you'll but stir yourself to hold our current course.

I don't know why you're enjoying this so much." "Because I am a connoisseur of fine irony. 'Tis a bit like fine wine, but has a better bite.

Shut up," Morgan said, whirling on the woman and pointing the sword at her. "Shut up, you shrill harpy, before I aid you in doing so by means of a dozen ways you won't care for in the least." Adhémar's fiancée fell, blessedly, silent.

He walked down the passageway with her and cursed silently. Obviously, he'd grossly overestimated his appeal. Perhaps he should have taken her at her word at Gobhann when she reminded him that she had no use for mages. Perhaps he should have realized sooner that she - ...had reached behind his back and taken his hand.

Morgan was looking at the food in front of her suspiciously, as if it intended to merely reside for a bit inside her, then liberate itself at a most inconvenient time.