Marguerite Kaye

I kissed you," Finlay said roughly. "for the very simple reason that you are irresistible." "I think that is what is known as serendipity," Isabella replied, "for it's the very same reason I kissed you back." "Serendipity," Finlay said, sliding his arm around her waist. "I've always wondered what it tasted like." "Strawberries, and lavender, and vintage wine, I believe is how you described it." "No," he said decidedly. "It tastes of nothing other than essence of you. The most intoxicating and delicious taste imaginable.

His eyes darkened. His hands slid up to her shoulders. She leaned into him as he pulled her towards him. It started so gently. Soft. Delicate. Celeste leant closer. The kiss deepened. she could feel the damp of his shirt and the heat of his skin beneath it. A drop of perspiration trickled down between her breasts, and she felt a sharp twist of pure desire.

She had always swum alone. She had never swum in the company of a man, and this man -- She dragged her eyes away again...."Go in. I will follow you but don't look."Jack laughed. "I never make promises I can't keep," he said.

You're warning me off. There's no need, I assure you. At this moment in time, my only ambition is to get myself through the day ---" He broke off, realising too late what he'd admitted, remembering, suddenly, why he had kissed her in the first place. And now he'd given her the perfect opening to start again.But to his surprise, her expression softened. "Yes," she said. "That is how I have felt since --- since." She blinked rapidly, and forced a smile. "It is a good thing, this -- this---between us, because now I know that I am recovering myself...

I must confess, your gown does not do justice as your trousers did to your delightful derriere." Colour flamed in her face. She ought to be outraged, but Isabella was briefly, shockingly inclined to laugh. "A gentleman does not remark on a lady's derriere." "I seem to recall telling you when last we met that I am not a gentleman, senorita. And now I come to think of it, I recall also that you took umbrage at being called a lady.

Where is your Revolutionary spirit?""Beheaded," Celeste said.

...You, you look -- bien -- exactly what you were, a high-ranking British officer, used to unwavering obedience and with the air of a Greek god, gazing down on us mere mortals.

But the pain, the tearing blackness, the white heat of his uncontrollable fury, the terror that made him run from himself, the sweats and the shakes, and the dull ache in his head, they were all too real. ~~~~She kissed him to stop the words babbling out. She was in love. __ack,_ she said, because it was all she could trust herself to say. __ack._ She loved him. She kissed his eyelids. She loved him.

Those were the kind of kisses to keep a man awake at night, wanting more. Now, shall we drink this excellent wine and get on with the rest of the tour?

The Jock Upstart, is what Wellington calls - called me. A man who does not know his allotted place in the scheme of things.

Celeste committed the cardinal sin of leaning across Jack's arm. "You will excuse me, Madam, but I have something most particular to say to Monsieur Trestain.""That was rude," jack said, though he was smiling."No doubt you thought her very beautiful.""No doubt that is what you think I thought.

My father prided himself on maintaining traditions that were hundreds of years old. You'll feel as if you've stepped back into the eighteenth century." Her brows lifted in surprise. He could see the wheels turning in her clever brain, but she chose merely to nod, and perversely, though he knew he would not like it, he wanted to know what she was thinking. "Go on. Say it." "It is nothing. Only - you are very much a man of the nineteenth century." "You mean you're not surprised I left such a backward place." "Such a backward place must be crying out for a man like you." Ainsley pushed her windswept hair out of her eyes.

Celeste rejoined him. "How you ladies do love a bargain," he said."You were listening!""I left before you shared the secrets of your undergarments." Jack looked sheepish. "That didn't sound quite how I intended."Celeste blushed. "You should not have mentioned it at all. A lady's undergarments are not a fit topic for a gentleman to discuss at a military dinner.""Actually," he retorted, "you would be surprised at how often the subject comes up.

Vintage kisses," Finlay said. "If only they could be bottled, you would have an elixir beyond price.

A man who is born to be hanged can never be drowned.

The soldier in the portrait had been a respected and admired officer...The man he had become was fighting a different battle now. He had his demons, just as she had her ghosts.

What the hell do you think you are doing, creeping about in the night in woman's clothing? I could just as easily have killed you?" The sheer audacity of her remark rendered him speechless for a moment, and then Finlay laughed. "This, senorita, is a kilt, not a skirt, and you did not for a moment come close to killing me, though I don't doubt that you'd have tried if I'd given you half a chance.

You! That is what is behind this. Ever since you -- As if I didn't have enough on my mind without having to lie awake thinking of you and your damned kisses and your damned questions.