Quotes from Elizabeth Hoyt

This was madness; this was delirium.

To fight demons, one must assume the guise of a demon

A mother never abandons her child, even when he seems to want it

Melisande blinked rapidly, then looked back to the little box with garnet earrings. Her ears weren't even pierced. She touched one of the garnets with a fingertip and wondered if he'd ever looked-really looked- at her at all.

Seraphine, Seraphine, Seraphine. O most beloved of women, most fiery of saints, never leave me, please. I'll erect columns of white marble to you, build gardens of delights for you, cause ships to sail and warriors to rise for you, if you'll only remain by my side.

He was aware, suddenly, of the chill condensing clammily on his skin, the smell of damp cobblestones, of the very air flowing in and out of his lings. But most of all he was aware of the woman, this woman, his woman, standing so proudly, waiting patiently for him, only him. He walked toward her and knew with every fiber of his being that he walked to life itself.

He pulled back, staring at her in the dim carriage, his brows still knit. Megs? Oh, right. She still hadn't told him. Well, it was his own fault; his mouth was simply delicious. I love you, she said, speaking clearly so that there might be no confusion.

She took his length gently between her hands, her arms resting on his thighs, and looked up into his face. "I'm very, very angry with you." And she opened her mouth over him.

There was no sound, but she felt a movement, a shifting of the air in her room, the warmth of another presence. Isabel opened her eyes. He was there, at the foot of her bed, a single candle in his hand, dressed only in shirtsleeves, waistcoat, and breeches. "Forgive me," he whispered as he set the candle down. "I could not stay away.

It took a moment to recognize Timothy... her first love. There had been a time when the mere sight of his handsome face had made her catch her breath. It had taken her years to recover from losing Timothy. Now the pain of his loss was muted and somehow apart from her, as if a broken engagement had happened to some other young, naive girl. She looked at him, and all she could think was, Thank Goodness. Thank goodness she's escaped marrying him.

Ye know as well as I that I lost whatever heart I once had long ago," Mick replied without emotion, a simple statement of fact. "If the babe lives, or if she dies, it makes no difference to me. I'll still eat sweetmeats on the morrow and taste the sugar on me tongue, still f*ck women and feel the pleasure in me bollocks. And, Charlie—mark me well, now—I'll still kill ye and laugh in yer ugly face as I do it.

For a moment she lay still in the big bed, blinking sleepily, loath to move. And then she realized that the angel's song hadn't stopped on her waking. Silence sat up. The tantalizingly beautiful voice was coming from the half-open door to Mickey O'Connor's room.

Mickey cursed under his breath, letting his head fall back against the wall. His c*ck still beat angrily against his clothing. Once he would've simply sent for a whore. Now that thought was oddly unsatisfying. He could have a willing woman, a woman who would do anything he might request of her, even the most exotic acts of sex, but instead his flesh wanted just one woman. A woman who was as fierce in her maternal love as he had been as a boy in his will to survive.

It might've been my fichu. -Patricia to Lucy about her engagement to vicar Penweeble.

His eyes were dark, dangerous, and not at all cold. He burned with an internal inferno she wanted to touch. She stared into the gaze of a tiger and knew, even as she watched the cat retreat into the camouflage of a gentleman: The Duke of Wakefield was the Ghost of St. Giles.

one can't live without falling now and again.

Fear had a tendency to drive away the courtesy of civilization.

He grinned, but a bead of sweat ran down his temple. "Then with your permission.

Rebecca held her head high and swanned across the hallway, but as she neared the footman, she could see quite plainly that his gaze was not where it should be. She stopped dead and slapped her hands over her bosom. Its too low, isn't it? I knew I shouldn't have listened to that maid. She might not mind her boobies hanging out for all to see, but i just can't- Her brain suddenly caught up with her mouth. She removed her hands from her bosom and slapped them over her awful, awful, awful mouth.

Have you asked the question yet? I'm rather good at it, if I do say to myself. I got three different ladies to agree to marry me while you were gone. Did you know? Some didn't actually make it to the alter, but that's another problem altogether. Perhaps you'd like some pointers on-

I love you, Godric St. John, and now I'm breaking my word. I will not leave you. You may either come with me to Laurelwood or I'll stay here with you in your musty old house in London and drive you mad with all my talking and relatives and... and exotic sexual positions until you break down and love me back, for I'm warning you that I'm not giving up until you love me and we're a happy family with dozens of children.

Now, then, young lady. Which of these gentlemen will you marry? This one. She squeezed [his] arm. The vicar inspected [him] and sniffed. Doesnt look that much different from the other one. Nevertheless- she fought to remain sober-faced- this is the man I want.

You've used me to punish yourself, haven't you? He watched dawning realization spread over her face, a confirmation more positive than anything she could ever say, and that arrow twisted deep in his chest. Yet still he had to ask the last question. Am I anything to you but a punishment?

She swallowed and looked down at the artichoke petals piled neatly on the side of her plate. Her center certainly felt like it was melting, growing soft and wet just from the rasp of Mr. O'Connor's voice. Why should a man already devilishly handsome also have a voice that could charm birds from the sky? It simply wasn't fair.