Quotes from Stephanie Laurens

That woman who was her true self saw Lord Sebastian Cynster, Marquess of Earith, as, quite simply, hers.

He stood there, silently, and listened to her voice, to the lilting brogue which, he suddenly realized, was the sound of home to him.

I hoped you would know without needing to be told. His eyes held hers; his chest swelled as he drew in a steadying breath. God-and half the ton-know I love you. He searched her eyes, then added his voice deepening, Unreservedly, without restraint, far more completely, deeply, madly than I suspect is at all wise.

Love simply is-it asks no permission. Accetance is all love asks, the only demand it makes, but it is an absolute one. You can either admit it in your hearts or refuse it, but there's no other option.

wasn't the butler who looked out but Marcus Cynster.

It's the thought that counts-quite literally. There's energy in doing and in intention, and it matters. It makes a difference.

It appeared that his sister, usually an irresistible force, had finally met a sufficiently immovable object.

Assault! he croaked. The battery might yet follow. The warning- entirely unnecessary from Patience's perspective- came from Vane. One look at his face, as hard as granite and equally unyielding, would have informed any sane person of that fact.

Samo zato što mu je sudbina pokazala vodu, nije zna?ilo da je mora piti.

Trust. Partnership. An appreciation and acceptance of each other's strengths, and a willingness to allow for the other's weaknesses. A sharing freely given and readily accepted in all areas of our lives, allowing the other to share the burdens, to help meet the challenges, and share fully in the triumphs.

The warm stillness within the room was broken only by the rustling of sheets, and soft, urgent murmurs. Then the silence gave way to soft moans, groans, breathless pants, desperate gasps. Culminating in a soft, piercingly sweet scream, dying, sobbing, into a deep guttural groan.

over her sides, gripping, then

Are you planning to stay? He looked down at her. That, he stated, his voice very low, depends largely on you. Patience looked into his grey eyes- and froze. Every muscle was paralyzed, all the way to her toes. The idea that he was amusing himself, without any real intent, died- slain by the look in his eyes. The intent in his eyes. It could've have been clearer had he put it into words.

Her gaze on Vane, Patience wished she could see his eyes. His expression was unreadable. Shoulders propped against the stone arch, arms folded cross his chest, he watched her like a hawk. A brooding, potentially menacing hawk. Or a wolf anticipating a meal.

What's your enterprise of choice? Vane grinned. Hops. Patience blinked. Hops? A vital ingredient used to flavor and clarify beers. I own Pembury Manor, an estate near Tunbridge in Kent. And you grow hops? Vane's smile teased. As well as apples, pears, cherries, and cob nuts. Drawing back in her saddle, Patience stared at him. You're a farmer! One brown brow rose. Among other things. Recognizing the glint in his eyes, she swallowed a humph.

empty glass. "The situation of Miss Dalling and the Marquess does seem to be of some urgency—but how much of that derives

This morning, she still seemed distant, but more in the manner of planning

Narrow-eyed, Vane watched her go, watched her hips sway as she glided along. He remained in the archway until she reached her door. He heard it shut behind her. Slowly, very slowly, his features eased, then a Cynster smile tugged at his lips. If he couldn't escape fate, then, 'ipso facto,' neither could she. Which meant she would be his. The prospect grew more alluring by the minute.

Why are you here? Her words were a thread of silver in the moonlight. His answer was deep as the deepest shadows. You offered to be my inamorata, remember?

Steel shards, his eyes held hers. Breathless, Patience blinked up at him. His face was hard, a warrior's mask. Waves of anger and aggression lapped about her. When it comes to distraction, he informed her through clenched teeth, nothing in this world could top you. His words were invested with meaning- a meaning she didn't understand.

It was one thing for hope to spring eternal for the unlikely—it was quite another to wish for the utterly impossible.

I wanted you to kiss me, you know." Damned impertinent and overbold female. "I know.

He and Marcus sipped and a companionable silence fell. Marcus nodded at the pile of news sheets and asked if anything truly important had occurred; Thomas's reply—that while according to the pundits, the skies were close to falling, as they always were in the pundits' eyes, nothing had changed that might even remotely impact the lives of those in their small corner of the world—made Marcus grin.

Is 'Vane' Vane's real name? Minnie chuckled evilly. Spencer Archibald- and if you dare call him that to his face, you'll be braver than any other in the 'ton.' Only his mother can still do so with impunity. He's been known as Vane since before he went to Eton. Devil named him- said he always knew which way the wind was blowing and what was in the breeze.