Quotes About Romance

Come, now, dear lady." His hand, a broad, and callused hand—a man's hand—slid over her silky sheets in a way that was calculated to suggest that same masterful hand roving over her equally silky flesh. He gave a slow, heated grin that sent the temperature of her blood soaring to new heights. "Don't make me come over there and get you . . .

Ah, such pluck, such fire! Indeed, madam, I will touch you . . . but were you to go down without a fight, I should be sadly disappointed. . . So, indulge yourself, Maeve, and"—his fingers caught her collar and pulled it downward, exposing her neck and shoulders to his mouth—"fight.

His hand on her back, Gareth steadied the baby so that she would not fall. He looked up at Juliet. "You have done much for me," he said at last. "Will you honor me by confessing your name?" "Juliet." He smiled. "As in Romeo and Juliet?" "I suppose.

Pirate?" "Aye, Majesty?" His fingers drifted through her hair, and she kissed his damp chest. "I . . . I don't believe I'll kill you, after all." She felt him smile against her forehead. "Maybe you really are my Gallant Knight," she murmured, and on that thought, drifted off to sleep.

He wondered if she knew how much he needed her. He wondered if the lilacs were still in bloom, and what she would have done if he really had broken one off that day in her garden and given it to her, and suddenly wished with all his heart that he had.

Wipe the scowl off yer face, Sunshine," he said. "It's unbecoming." "You took a liberty with me." "You all but asked me to." "You were… vulgar." "What, by showing ye the effect ye have on me? By forcing ye to listen to yer own body?" He gave a little laugh. "' Twas only a kiss. Not like I stole yer virtue or anythin'." He deposited

After making love to Juliet well into the wee hours, it was no wonder that Gareth's eyes felt like lead when he opened them the following morning. Even so, as he gazed lovingly at his sleeping wife, he wanted nothing more than to gather her up in his arms, bury his face in her silky, unbound hair, and cuddle away the morning. The afternoon. The whole day. If

Care to drop anchor beside me, lass?" He grinned, wolfishly. "Morning is the fairest time for a tryst, you know.

But Gwyneth was determined that this dark angel, this remote but magnificent man she loved, would not die.

Speaking of excitement, how's that fine bit of muslin who saved your life, eh, Gareth?" "Yes, have you made a suitable impression upon her yet?" Gareth grinned. "I am working on it." "Ha! I can imagine what your despot of a brother thinks about that!" "Who gives a damn what he thinks? Lucien may be Blackheath's master, but he sure as hell isn't mine. Now come, let's go. The evening waits, and I simply cannot abide being in this place another minute." ~~~~

A cutlass thrust itself before his nose. "I mean it, Gray!" Never pausing, he knocked it aside and began to haul himself up and over the gunwale. She tried to step on his fingers as he reached for a hold. He grabbed her ankle. She pulled her knife on him. He snared her wrist and threw the weapon aside. She screamed every curse she knew at him. And he pulled her into his arms and kissed her, to the wild cheers of her own traitorous crew.

A dalliance? Is that what you think of me? A dalliance? " "Now, Maeve, darling—" "Don't you now Maeve darling me!" she cried and swung her open palm against his jaw with all the force in her body. He stood there and allowed her to slap him. He saw the fire blazing now in her eyes, hot angry fire that burned him to the core.

He stared down at her, slowly shaking his head. "How can any man look upon you and not want to possess you, wholly and fully?" "You're looking upon me," she said softly, invitingly, "and I have yet to see you begin the process of possessing me wholly and fully." Lowering his head until his forehead touched hers, he gazed deeply into her eyes. "I know I've been a brute in the past, but I swear to you, Gwyneth, I shall be as gentle, as considerate as you deserve to have me be.

You are the most exotically beautiful woman I have ever met," he whispered against her forehead. "Don't ever leave me, Amy. I beg of you, never leave me." "I couldn't Charles, not even if I wanted to." And

Two admirals, both on a desperate chase. One after a Frenchman's fleet—and the other, after a Pirate Queen's heart.

Ready, love? No, don't even try to stand up, I won't allow it. Has anyone ever told you how lovely you look in braids? So innocent and sweet; no, don't scowl, it doesn't become you at all! Up we go!" "Got her, Sir Graham?" "Of course I have her, you fool," the admiral said, but good-naturedly. Above Maeve's head, he shot the surgeon a wink, then kicked the door open with his foot.

I love ye, Nerissa O' Devir," he murmured softly. "Ye're the best thing that's ever come into me life. 'Til the day I die, I'll be thankin' the good Lord and every saint in heaven for sendin' ye to me.

And where are you going, Admiral? . . . Don't you ever sleep?" She sensed him kneeling down beside her, felt his breath on her cheek as he lovingly absorbed every detail of her face and smoothed the wispy hair that had come loose from the braid. "Sleep? Not when my lovely Queen is under my protection. I am an officer, Majesty, and I have my sworn duty." An officer. Guarding the lives of those he loved. "I love you, Maeve," he said softly, and kissed her.

I think you should be nicer to Sir Graham, Majesty," Aisling declared, and sat down on the deck beside Maeve's chair. "After all, he did give you these roses." "And that pretty dress." "And that poem on your breakfast tray." "I think he wrote it himself.

I'll make you happy, Juliet," he announced, still lounging on the bed with one leg propped over his bent knee, his stockinged foot bouncing playfully up and down. His eyes were warm and laughing. "Providing you can be patient and understanding with me whilst I fumble my way from wild young bachelor to tame and loving husband." He grinned. "I'm impossibly hopeless, you know." "Yes. I know.

courting and dumping." Matt scowled. Steam appeared

Fostering magical thinking, the chivalric romance yields a space-time in which the marvelous co-exists at all times with mundane routines. Its magic is able to envision the invisible, to endow the amorphous with palpable shape, and to place illusion and reality on the same level. Concurrently, the romance reminds us that it is essential to value the magical realm's irreducible alterity and inscrutability, rather than attempt to tame it by rationalizing its wonders.

I had been tricked once by that Cheat called love, but the Game was over...

Smiling, Jake stood up and pulled Liz closer. He kissed her deeply