Quotes from Elizabeth Hoyt

You tend a wound nearly as well as you dance. Her blue-gray gaze flicked up to his, wide with surprise. I wasn't sure if you recognized me from the ball. This was intimate, her face so close to his. He naked and she with the upper slopes of her breasts uncovered. He felt hazy with desperate temptation. He could smell her, above the scent of his own blood- a faint flower scent. Not cedarwood, thank God. You're hard to forget, he murmured.

Will you make my house a home, Isabel?

Remember how we once lay together, love? Remember how we became lovers and hoped for a future? That future is alive and here. And taking his hand, she laid it upon her gently swelling belly, where a new life grew. Thus she made him touch Hope

His eyes narrowed to slits.Make love. Make love to me. Now

Fuck, you mean? His eyes narrowed to slits.Make love. Make love to me. Now

Will you make my home a home, Isabel?

I regard physical lovemaking as something sacrosanct to love. And if I loved a woman enough to take her to my bed, then I would love her enough to marry her.

For he fully intended to be with her in the future legally and sanctioned by the church in public, intimate and loving in private.

He turned to see her glaring at him, her blond hair a halo about her head in the carriage's lantern light, and felt his lips quirk. She really was rather extraordinary. A pity he could not make her his wife in reality.

Fuck, you mean? His eyes narrowed to slits.Make love. Make love to me. Now

As if she'd merely sleepwalked through everything else in her life prior to his arrival.

He caught her and drew her against him, pressing kisses into her mouth as he murmured, So beautiful So beautiful. He sat up to pull the covers over them both and then he took her into his arms as he lay back down. The fire crackled and the few candles still lit guttered and she thought, as her mind began to drift, that perhaps her feelings for her strange, dark husband might be more than just affection.

He opened his eyes to see her licking her lips nervously. I... er... We should remove your banyan. At least the upper portion. If he were a man given to mirth he might've grinned then. She was playing in the flames of his control. Did she not understand her own peril? But her blush had deepened and she was deliciously out of sorts. He simply could not resist- either his own urges or her innocent befuddlement. He spread his arms and said gravely, Be my guest.

Have you come to kidnap me?" Her voice emerged a whisper, though she hadn't consciously thought to lower it. "If so, I hope you'll do me the courtesy of letting me put on a wrap first.

There's something about her," Caire said in a low voice. "She cares for everyone about her, yet neglects herself. I want to be the one who cares for her.

She swallowed. He was covered, of course, but she knew what lay beneath the sheets- she'd seen him entirely nude at the Lords' revels. She had the image burned into her memory: a proud, thick penis, heavy sac, and curling midnight hair. If the coverlet slipped just a little bit downward, she would see the upper edge of that nest of black hair. The thought made her press her thighs together under her dress. Did he know how his body affected her?

It was no use. Edward rolled his head back against his shoulders, trying to ease the tension. He would have to make a trip to London soon to spend a night or even two at Aphrodite's Grotto. Perhaps after that he could be in his secretary's presence without lustful thoughts taking over his mind.

She caught her breath on a sob. He was going to London to bed another woman.

But then again, maybe a woman never really knew the men in her life.

One would not think that fish were so silly as to confuse feathers and a hook for a fly alighting on the water, but apparently fish were foolish creatures. Or perhaps they were simply very nearsighted.

I see a woman who has a deep curiosity. Who wants to feel but is worried- of herself? Of others? I'm not sure. But I think she has a fire banked within her. Maybe it's only embers now, glowing in the dark, but if tinder were to be put to those embers... oh, what a conflagration that would be.

Now, had he the dressing of her- and why should he not?- he would put her in reds- rose and scarlet and deep, sensual crimson. Those dark inquisitor's eyes would burn from a foil of crimson cloth, mysterious, feminine. Beautiful. He was startled at the thought. Plain Mrs. Crumb beautiful? Well, most might not think her so, but oh, if she burned-

It was a strange thing, this feeling of empathy. He'd never experienced it before. He realized that what hurt this woman hurt him as well, that what made her bleed caused a hemorrhage of pain within his soul.

I must have an heir. Do you understand?" He grit his teeth and said, as if he were pulling the words, bloody and torn, from his very heart, "I must marry a woman who can bear children.