historical-romance

I must remember to be troublesome now and again, else you are going to be impossible to live with. And by what magic did you find the gown and the horse?""Scottish fairy magic." His grin widened."Do you mean that fairies are real in Scotland?

Helen likes Brussels sprouts. How can anyone trust her opinion?

What do ladies wear beneath their riding trousers?""I would think an infamous rake would already know.""I was never infamous. In fact, I'm fairly standard as far as rakes go.""The ones who deny it are the worst.

I believe I was about to do this." He angled his head and nibbled on her lower lip. A small moan escaped her. Emboldened, he deepened the kiss and found she did not hesitate to explore on her own. Blood rushed to his groin and stiffened his arousal. Never had he met a lady so comfortable with her sensuality.

She bent her head over the flowers. He knew she was not beautiful. He knew she did not see herself as the object of a man__ lust. He knew if he told her he found her desirable, she__ not understand his meaning. She__ think he meant something other than marriage. In that, she would be right, but a man could want both things from the same woman.

The point is, people have been having babies for thousands of years. There will be frightening moments and exhausting moments, but more than anything---" "--- there will just be love.

I could not give her my heart, because it already belonged to another; for I have only loved once.

She laced her arms around his neck. "Are you hungry, Azhar?" His smile made her blood fizz. "Ravenous, Julia." "Then please, abandon any attempt at controlling your appetite for me," she whispered into his ear, "Because I too am starving.

His mouth captured hers with a strong, soft heat and Celine discovered something far sexier than this man__ voice or his body. His kiss. She never had the chance to think of a protest. To think at all. She had been kissed before, but never like this. It was neither awkward and teasing nor forceful and overpowering, but long, slow, confident, and devastating. It was as if he were binding them together, deftly drawing her soul into his.

It doesna matter the direction necessity forces ye to take in life, it matters which way ye go when ye have a choice.

Now, at last, she understood her great attraction to him. Here was the companion of her spirit. Here, indeed, was love.

She did not realise that there could be a joy - a spiritual ecstasy- in the touch of a certain man, or that she would long for his touch with all her being

Miss Edith Clay brightened the room with her presence. Just from walking through the door, she__ made the room a happier place. This was true despite his having spent the last several months assuring himself his recollection of her had to be incorrect. His recollection was not incorrect. It was appallingly accurate.

She cocked her head. The ribbon tied beneath her chin glinted dully in the light. __ave I said something wrong?___o."__ have._ She stepped closer. __ou are the most inscrutable man I have ever met._ He laughed. No mirth at all. ____ quite serious._ She studied him. __o._ Her quiet voice lanced through him. __on__ look away. Not when I am about to understand you._ __re you certain you wish to?_ He held her gaze, and the silence of his hunting box became unendurable. He fixed in his head an image of her in his bed. Nude. And of him, there to touch, and taste, experiencing that moment when his prick slid into her body. Her. Not any woman, but her. Specifically. The woman who made him see beauty where he__ once seen only duty.

You are walking to Hope Springs?_ __es, Your Grace._ __n this weather?_ She glanced around and gave him a smile. __ haven__ any other weather to walk in.

With a hoarse moan, he swept her against him, kissing her wildly, passionately, his mouth promising and teasing, as if her kiss had broken the dam that had held back his passion.

Her face a mask of fury and determination.

... but we__l be back for dinner _ especially if you__e having soup de jour!___ow, Troy! You know very well that soup de jour means __oup of the day._ It changes every time!