Quotes from Elizabeth Hoyt

I've never violated any woman." "Have you killed?" He paused at that, before reaching into the wardrobe to move aside her spare day gown. "Once or twice. The men deserved it, I assure you.

No, the Duke of Wakefield would never be a darling of the feminine members of society. Something about him was so opposite to female that he almost repelled the softer sex.

No more shall you go bookless, Mrs. Crumb. From this day henceforth you have free run of my library with my compliments. She stared. I- He grinned, looking not a little wicked. Have you looked at my books? Glanced at my titles? Fondled my spines?

Besides, they'll all know soon enough, won't they? That I'm your mistress?" He snorted, hitting the bed with one arm as he sprawled. She raised a delicate eyebrow. "That is what you want, isn't it?" "I can't have what I want." "Can't you?" Her voice was light, nearly careless. "But you're the Duke of Wakefield, one of the most powerful men in England.

The sight of her was like a swift, cool wind through his frame, quickening his body, alerting all his senses, making him completely aware he was a male and she a female.

I believed… No. I knew we had an attraction. Then you left and I realized you were taking what you felt for me and giving it to another woman. A woman you didn't even know. And I wanted—needed—" Anna threw up her hands in frustration. "I wanted to be the one you-you swived with.

Of course I put a chain on him—he's recovering fast and he's quite muscular." He frowned on a thought. "You shouldn't be visiting him now that he can move about—he might grab you." She gave him an incredulous look. He grimaced. "I can find a suitable place for him, perhaps a room with a barred door—" "You mean a cage." "We've already discussed this: I'll not let a madman near you.

You were the one who left for London. You were the one who decided to-to tup another woman. You were the one who turned away from me. From us. Who is the greater sinner? I will no longer—urp!

He was a being of action and vitality, and when he moved, when he smiled, he became almost impossible to resist.

He thought he saw her smile waver when she read it, then she was hugging him tightly. "You're the one who needs to take care of yourself. Your escape is still all the news. They'll be searching for you." She drew back to look at him, and to his consternation he saw that she had tears in her eyes. "I couldn't bear to lose you again." He bent and kissed her forehead. Even if he could speak there was nothing he could say to comfort her.

BUT HOW, EXACTLY, did one go about seducing a husband one hardly knew?

Percy romped up and dropped a sadly mangled, dead frog at her feet, then backed away and sat proudly by his prize, looking at Miss Greaves as if expecting praise. She absently ruffled the spaniel's ears.

One's own family and situation are all one knows as a child. Therefore they are, by default, normal. I thought everyone had a papa who sometimes stayed awake all night writing philosophical papers, only to burn them all in a rage in the morning. It was only when I was old enough to notice that other fathers didn't act like my own that I realized the truth.

She glanced at the man quickly. "Thank you." She meant to say more, but something was caught in her throat. Her eyes stung. "Weep not, proud Diana," Maximus murmured. "The moon will not allow it." "No." She agreed, swiping fiercely at her cheeks. "There's no need for tears yet.

Have you no care for your reputation?" She stepped toward him until she was so close he fancied he breathed the same air as she and when she tilted her face up to look at him he saw that she wasn't nearly as calm as he'd imagined. "No," she murmured, her voice a siren's song, "none at all." "Then I'll be damned if I will," he muttered and kissed her.

that Lady Herrick has a birthmark in the shape of a butterfly on her left buttock. Oh, and that said birthmark turns an interesting shade of lavender when slapped." Apollo stopped in the hallway outside the breakfast room and simply stared at his companion. "What?" Montgomery looked irritated. "I defy any man to not take the opportunity when presented to slap a lovely arse.

When at last they rose by some unspoken male accord, she noticed with a pang that Indio came only to Caliban's waist. The man towered over the boy, so much taller and broader that his gentleness was all the more moving as a result. They walked to the pond's bank and Indio launched his boat. Caliban restrained Daffodil from jumping in after. This man was not at all like Kitty's husband. Not at

At first she saw only the mess of roots. There wasn't space in there, surely, for a small dog, let alone a man and boy. But as she watched, a huge hand slapped down on the edge. She started for the hole even as Caliban emerged, head and broad shoulders blackened, clutching Indio to his chest like Hephaestus rising from his underworld forge. She'd never seen such a wonderful sight.

You do have to save my brother," she said, "because if you do not I will tell everyone in England that you are the Ghost of St. Giles.

She glanced again at Caliban as she said, "You and Daffodil were very brave." "And the best part, Mama," Indio said, tugging her hand to get her attention, "the best part is Caliban spoke. Did you hear him? He shouted my name!" "What?" Lily stared at Indio's filthy little face and then back up at Caliban. She absently noted that he had a bleeding scratch on his cheek. That shout right before the accident—had that been him?

He'd make sure to impress upon the wench his displeasure with her actions if only she weren't being so completely childish as to ignore him all morning.

I want to make you weep. I want all your pleasure, Iris, all your pain, everything you are. Come for me. And she felt herself bow with the stark white bliss of her epiphany, the shattering realization of his words and his hands and his mouth. She was gasping for breath, shaking, lost, unseeing. The center of her being pulsing with pleasure.

His nostrils flared just a little bit, and the lines bracketing his mouth grew deeper. He snarled with his beautiful, twisted lips and she thought, half on the edge of falling again, she thought he looked like a demon making love to her. A demon fighting for his life or light or possibly redemption.

I believe that you wanted to love Marie—that you're enamored by the idea of love—but that you have no concept what love is. I think that's what you're searching for in St. Giles—some source of emotion, some inkling of what human feeling really is.