Quotes from Anne Stuart

She had the underwear of a thirteen-year-old, as well, he thought. He glanced back at her. But the shoes of a courtesan.

We have a guardian angel, and who cares if he's a fallen one?

I would have to ask her, just to make certain I'd done everything I could. But I'd warn her. I have no money, no prospects, an exceedingly ugly face, and my dearest friend is the King of Hell. You think that would stop her? I have no idea. Would it, Lydia? Nothing would stop her, if she loved you. And she does, Charles. She loves your pretty face and you scarred face. She loves your past and your present and she most especially loves your future. Just ask. Marry me, Lydia.

He released her hand back in her own lap. Sometimes you give up what you love to stay alive. Have you ever had to do that? He turned his head to look at her so long it should have been dangerous, but he seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to the road. It's coming, he said. And he turned away, driving into the slowly dawning day.

And what if you don't come? I will. No matter what happens. I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way,' she murmured.

Chloe took a sip of her coffee. Strong as faith, sweet as love, black as sin.

And you're no going to see me inherit the title--you'll marry on your deathbed and beget an heir just to spite me, he said in a voice that wasn't far from a whine. What a wonderful opinion you have of my virility, Rohan replied.

You can dress a pig up in satin and lace and its still a pig. Francis smiled hazily. Are you calling my intended a pig, Charles? Charles raised a dark eyebrow. Intended what, Francis? You surely cant be having respectable inclinations towards this girl. The bullet hit your arm, not your head.

Obviously the household of Richard the Fair was unused to hearing the magician laugh. Even Richard himself stopped pawing his willing partner to stare at Simon of Navarre. Something amuses you, my Grendel? he demanded. You have been gracious enough to gift me with a clever wife, Simon said. A clever woman is a curse, Richard said flatly, eyeing Alys with profound distrust. Change your mind, my friend. Choose the pretty one. My lord, said Simon, I did.

He caught up with her outside her doorway, when she almost gave up. He said nothing, simply pulled her into his arms, against his strong, hard body, and his hand slid beneath her hair, tilting her face up to his. "No more running away?" His voice was rough. His eyes glittered down into hers, and if she wanted tenderness it wasn't there. Simply a dark, naked heat sparking between them. "No more running away," she said.

He wanted her hands on him, he wanted her mouth on him, he wanted to take her from behind, leaning over the bunk, he wanted her to go down on him, he wanted everything he could possibly think of and more. He wanted it hard and nasty, gentle and sweet. But most of all he wanted it now.

He needed to keep as far away from her as possible, or they'd end up back in bed together or she'd kill him. And he wasn't sure which he preferred.

Lord save us, first you have a heart, now you have a god? Will wonders never cease?

And yet still she watched him... he wondered why. One possibility, and by far his favorite, was that she was planning his murder.

He had no idea what Jilly Lovitz would appreciate or not. And why the hell did her name have so many fucking L's in it? She'd probably done it on purpose, just to annoy him.

My hair covers my scarring.' 'But we've agreed that no one notices your scarring once they're around you. You woo them like a big, fat hairy black spider, and no matter how much they struggle they're helpless.

I don't love you," he said. And he pulled her into his arms and kissed her, a kiss of passion and desperation, a kiss of deep currents and longing. "I don't love you," he said again. "Of course you don't," she murmured happily. And she followed him out the door, into the lion's den.

He barely hesitated. Then shall I ruin you, dragon? Yes please, she said. And she let the brown dress drop on the floor between them, closing her eyes once more.

You'd be better served if you gave me a moment to regain my self-control and let me remove my boots. It's the least a gentleman can do. And you're such a gentleman. Not with you, love. But I'm trying.

Revenge was a dish best served cold.

Finn) "You're sure you're not a sister?" he tossed back at her, his voice little more than a growl on the night air. She was closer than he thought, making decent enough headway on the steep hill. "I'm an only child." Stupid, he thought. "I'm asking if you're a holy nun." "I told you, I'm not a nun, holy or otherwise." Okay, she met the criteria for fuckable.

She swam to the shallow end of the pool and stood up, yanking the shrinking top of the bathing suit up to a more demure level. That's a shame, Peter Jensen's cool voice emerged from the shadows. I was hoping gravity would win.

He was accustomed to women wanting him. What shocked him was the simple fact that he wanted her. Not hot, energetic sex. Not a blow job from a novice. He wanted her with a perplexing intensity he hadn't felt in years. He was the King of Death, and she was his consort. And no amount of common sense could distract him.

And there was nothing left between them but love, neither pure nor simple, but love it was.