Quotes About Intrigue

She enters, and before I can discern her, She stares at me with an attentive eye. "Were you," I ask, "the cause of the Inferno For Dante?" – And she answers: "I.

Intense nosiness about everybody had always existed in the area. Gossip washed in, washed out, came, went, moved on to next target.

They were a double-page spread of a woman with long dark, unruly hair, wearing stockings, suspenders, something too, black and lacy. She was smiling out at me, leaning back and opening up for me, which was when I skidded and lost balance, catching full view of her monosyllable as I fell down on the path.

Her glance fell on the door to the library. Not even Paul's greatest admirer would call him a bookish man. This was her best bet for avoiding him. She whisked into the room and whirled to close the door, when she glanced up to see Giles a few steps behind her. With a shuddering gasp, she faltered back as he strode forward and shut them inside. Alone. Neither spoke a word as he seized her with ruthless hands and swept her into his arms.

He sat up, his shirt sagging to reveal the curve of one powerful shoulder. The sight of smooth tanned skin dried every drop of moisture from her mouth. Such a contrast to his marred face. She hadn't considered him handsome at first, even disregarding the scars. With every hour, his physical allure grew. Right now, she'd scorn a handsome man as banal. Idiot that she was, she'd discovered a taste for dark and dangerous and damaged.

The Stasi had used radiation to mark people and objects it wanted to track. It developed a range of radioactive tags including irradiated pins it could surreptitiously insert into a person's clothing, radioactive magnets to place on cars, and radioactive pellets to shoot into tyres.

He was a mystery to her, and every time she tried to solve him it caused her a little more pain. But when she tired to give him up he pursued her in her thoughts, stronger each time.

brown eyes,

My son, remember that a woman with a secret may be a fascinating study, but she can never be a safe, nor even satisfactory, companion.

His few friends and his former teachers might be watched, as well as his brothers and those dearest to him. The entire city, a dragnet. And he was already in it. He had to slip though its meshes. But by now he was really done in.

Meg carried a purse when she went to the office or the Market Square, but it was small and didn't hold anything of particular interest. He knew that because he'd looked.

expression an unsettling blend of fear and fury. Prothvar came in

He felt as if he'd been chasing a rabbit that suddenly turned into a Grizzly. Something wasn't right about this. So many things weren't right about this.

And, by the way, we all consider sleeping with the bad man – we want to fix his hurt, or we want him to hurt us – one way or another, we are all attracted to the shadow.

the blade have been deflected?

One thing hits me," Hanne said at last. "Each of these deaths in a sense is circumscribed by Maria." "What do you mean?" "The day Iselin died, Maria travelled to

She smiled, a warm smile that held no trace of aberrant humor. It bothered him on a level he couldn't comprehend. It bothered him on a level he couldn't comprehend. He experienced an overwhelming urge to grab that smile and hide it solely for himself to gaze upon. A Da Vinci masterpiece he intended to jealously guard.

You always make me feel strange." His gaze sharpened, and she plowed ahead. "I don't mean that in the negative. But you do, and have, ever since that night I met you. I can't say I rightly felt that way before that night, though there was something about you across the theater that made me want to get you to smile at me in return. Still, it was that night we met. I had never felt such a reaction to a man before. Something tight and uncertain and exciting. Wild.

She smiled at him. Why was she always smiling at him? It made him tense.

the thing with October is, I think, it somehow gets in your very blood. Unapologetically. Almost ruthlessly.

Who shot you?" For a moment he looked annoyed. "I fail to see what that's got to do with anything. Reading assures me that anyone who's ever met me would have reason to shoot me, so I must admit with all candor that I have no idea. Was it you?" "If I'd shot you I wouldn't have missed," she said. "Was that wishful thinking or are you in fact a practiced shot?" "Desire would have made up for lack of expertise.

Wharton, E. The Buccaneers. London: Viking, 1993.

Ver a una mujer: solo por un segundo, solo por el breve lapso de una mirada, para luego volver a perderla, en la oscuridad de un pasillo, tras una puerta que me está vedado abrir...

The dark purr of his voice was almost soothing.