Quotes from Elizabeth Hoyt

Yet she could imagine him so—intent, focused on his goal, his woman. He'd guard his chosen mate, make her both fear and long for his attention. She shivered. He would be relentless in his pursuit, unmerciful in his victory.

Miss Greaves drifted behind them, silent as a wraith. He had the most persistent urge to turn and confront her—make her say something to him.

People make mistakes. Ideals don't. Think that's the first lesson that must be learned in any marriage.

She knew about young boys—she'd spent the last year taking care of them. They were tough and reckless and yet at the same time so very sweet and vulnerable. Their cheeks were soft and their eyes apologized even as they fought to assert their independence with too smart mouths.

He attacked her throat and she was so startled by the sudden move that she squeaked. He was laving her with his tongue, openmouthed, and she moaned, arching, wondering wildly if this was the same man who wore pink silk coats and black velvet bows. This seemed so base , so animal. Not at all like the effete aristocrat she thought she knew.

He was like a star in the night sky above and she but a sparrow. No matter how high she might try to fly, she'd never reach him.

I don't want you hurt," he said gruffly. "I know." Her smile was winsome. "But falling isn't the end of the world. I may fall, it's true—in fact, I probably will fall—but really, one can't live without falling now and again.

The duke brought her hand to his mouth and, his azure eyes glittering in the candlelight, pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist. And then the edge of his teeth. She felt the warm softness of his lips, the prickle of against tender skin, and a sort of shock seemed to go straight through the center of her body. He let her go and her wrist felt the cold of night. Séraphine. The burning one. I should've known.

If I've never stepped outside the role that's been assigned to me since birth, I've never tested myself. I've been too afraid of others' opinions, I think. I've been a coward. If that woman needs me, why not help her—for her… and for me?

He smiled down at her. Truly. I think a man may find happiness-or discontent- no matter if he has a full belly or not.

He met Caire's eyes. I hope we can finish this soon. I left your sister in my bed. St. John swore under his breath and stepped between them, facing Val. Are you insane? Many think so,. Val was watching Caire, his lips twitching. Caire hadn't moved. Only his eyes, hard and staring and trained upon Val, showed that he'd heard Val's words. Those eyes burned a bit like Séraphine's, Val mused, and he wondered if the other man truly meant to kill him this morning. Well, he would certainly try .

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?

He doesn't deserve to die," she said. Tears pricked at her eyes. "Does anyone? Whether he deserves it or not is neither here nor there; it's simply his fate. You can no more change that than you can change the course of the stars.

She climbed into the carriage and sat down across from the other lady. Pip hopped inside. Miss Royle smiled down at the terrier. Oh, what a sweet little dog! Pip wagged his tail and placed his front paws on Miss Royle's skirts for a pat and Bridget began to suspect he was a flirt.

You're not to go wading in my pond again," he said. She shrugged and picked up her shoes and stockings where they lay on the path. "Very well, Your Grace, but it's a great pity. I should've liked to go swimming.

If wishes were horses, then beggars would ride. -Lady Georgina Maitland-

I need you. He licked her bruised lip to soothe it. I can't think straight without you. My world is all turned around, and I go through it in pain, wanting to hurt someone.

Would it make a difference if I were bothered? I have some other skills not usually seen in ladies: swimming, as I told you, and how to shoot a gun. I can bargain down a butcher to within an inch of his life. I know how to make soap and how to put a bill collector off. I can do mending but not embroidery, can drive a cart but not ride a horse, know how to grow cabbages and carrots and even make them into a nice soup, but I haven't the least idea how to trellis roses.

This was not a man to be swayed by gentleness, beauty, or sweet words. He would bend—assuming he was even capable of bending—only for reasons of his own.

Then I wish I had it in my power to make him live without the sun for the rest of his pitiful life." She stopped and glanced at him. "That's a romantic thing to say." He shook his head. "I'm not a romantic man, Miss Greaves. I don't say things that I don't mean. I find it a waste of time.

If she'd been quizzed as to His Grace's eye color, she would've had to reply simply that they were dark. Which they were. Very dark, nearly black, but not quite. The Duke of Wakefield's eyes were a deep, rich brown, like coffee newly brewed, like walnut wood oiled and polished, like seal fur shining in the light, and even though they were rather lovely to look at, they were as cold as iron in winter. One touch and her very soul might freeze.

He looked down the table again and felt an irrational urge to push poor Mr. Watts out of his chair when Miss Greaves tilted her head toward him to hear something he'd said. He caught her eye briefly and she stared back in defiance, her mouth twisting tragically before looking away again. Something was wrong. She was leaking emotion.

Why then was he taking her? Was it merely for his own amusement- or was it for some other, more sinister reason? After all, only two days before she'd seen him kill a footman in cold blood. Of course Cal had tried to kill the duke in a particularly awful and vicious way. But then afterward the duke had kissed her as she'd never been kissed in all her life. His tongue had tasted of wine and sin and she'd wanted to moan and rub herself against him as he'd tilted her back over his arm.

ARTEMIS WOKE TO the feel of strong arms grasping her tight and lifting her from her bed. She should've been alarmed, but all she felt was a strange rightness. She looked up as Maximus carried her into the corridor outside her room. His face was set in grim lines, his eyes drawn and old, his mouth flat. He wore his banyan, its silk smooth beneath her cheek. She could hear his heart beating, strong and steady.