Anna Campbell Quotes

He'd been right about her determination to save the people she loved. He wondered with a sudden pang he couldn't identify how it would feel having someone like Antonia on his side.

Yes. I was such a bumpkin then ... I was as naive a country mushroom as you could meet.

The tension drained from her face and she softened in his hold until she was again the fluid, responsive woman who had kissed him within an inch of his life. This time he knew better than to restrain her when she slipped from the bed. He bit back an appeal for her to stay with him. If his life depended on it, he couldn't say whether he wanted her to stay an hour, a day, or forever.

He looked younger, kinder, a brighter image of the man she knew. A man life hadn't mistreated or betrayed. Whatever the pain of this union, she loved that she gave him this momentary peace. This encounter lurched from the physical onto a different plane. A plane revealing a new emotional landscape. She felt lightheaded, lost.

Grace."
He drew out the word so it became a long, deep, guttural growl. A sound as primitive as a lion's roar for its mate. Her skin prickled with animal awareness and the breath caught in her throat. Every drop of moisture evaporated from her mouth. Low in her belly, blood began to beat slow and hard with anticipation.
Her face must have betrayed her unfurling arousal. Or perhaps, like her, he reacted to the sudden charge in the air, as electric as the pause before a lightning strike.
Still without shifting his fierce focus, he set down the box he carried. Then he reached to close the doors and slide the bolt across.
Any doubt as to his purpose fled. A delicious thrill rippled through her. The summerhouse was raised on a platform so the windows opened above eye height. With the doors locked, it was a bower designed for private sin.
Sin was clearly his aim.
Now she looked more closely, she realized it wasn't anger that tightened the skin over the bones of his face. It was incendiary hunger.
She should protest. Question. Demand he tell her why he was here. But overwhelming need kept her silent and pinned to the window seat.

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He'd been unhappy, restless, irritable since leaving Surrey. He'd lived on memories of her. Her absence slowly strangled him. The instant he took Antonia in his arms, he breathed again.

Lydia finally found it in herself to forgive her mother for seizing what small joy she could, whatever the consequences. Love, it seemed, had its own imperatives.

He swallowed again and tightened his grip so even if she wanted to leave, she couldn't. It astonished him how difficult it was to find the one word he needed after these exquisite days. The one word he had no right to say.
He forced the forbidden syllable from his tight throat.
Stay.

Miss Smith, your suspicions wound me,' he said with a smile. He drew her, stiff and unwilling, against his side. Immediately her warmth seeped into his veins. He'd known he'd missed her, but only now did he realize how much. 'I mean no harm.'
'You lie.'
'Often,' he agreed amiably, feeling the resistance leaching from her. 'Not this time.'
'I'm in no fit state to fight you,' she muttered, curving into him as if created to fit his body.
'I know,' he acknowledged ruefully, wondering why of all the women in the world, she was the only one who ignited any glimmer of chivalry in his soul. 'But it's no fun when you just give in. I'll wait until you're up for another bout.'
She hid her face in his shoulder. She inhaled on a shudder, as if she hadn't taken a full breath in days. 'You're an evil devil, Ranelaw.'
'Absolutely,' he said softly, firming his hold as she shifted, not away as she should, but closer.

He wasn't good enough for her. But by God, he meant to make her happy while he had her.

You're breathtakingly exciting. You've turned my nights to fire. You've lit my whole world with flame.

Her jaw ached with tension. "Surely you don't respond to all women who...invite you this way?"
"Only strangers who remain anonymous and shrouded from my sight." The snap was still there, astonishing her. Anger was the last reaction she'd expected. "Do you intend to wear your veils when you fuck me, madam?

She loved his laughter. She loved that he faced the world with a reckless smile on his scarred face. Her heart crashed against her chest. A revelation descended. A revelation unrelated to the desire heating her blood.

I know my heart, Matthew. I know what I feel won't change." She took a shuddering breath and extended one unsteady hand in his direction. Her voice shook with intensity. "When I tell you I love you, that means I'll love you forever."
What does a man do when his dearest dreams come true?
Matthew stared at her outstretched hand. He'd never imagined this time would come. He wasn't prepared. Her words soaked into his soul, slowly turning the parched desert there into a verdant garden.
"You love me," he said slowly, wonderingly. Then with greater certainty, "By God, you love me." His astonished laugh ended on a choked note as he snatched her hand.
"So much," she said huskily. Her fingers curled hard around his. "So very, very much."
He dragged her back into his arms. "I can't believe it."
"Believe it," she whispered. She raised her hands to frame his face so she could look into his eyes. The blue was so pure that he saw right to her gallant, steadfast soul. "I love you, Matthew. I will always love you."
"And I love you, Grace."
Such simple words to change his life. Yet after tonight, he'd never be the same man again.

Open your mouth, tesoro." He angled her face higher. "Open your mouth for me."
At his raw demand, her eyes flared wide. For a drunken moment, he drowned in glorious brown, rich, autumnal, sensual.

With brief amusement, she recalled how she'd assumed a rogue of his decadent reputation would be pale and weak from too many late nights, too much brandy, and too many women. If that regime resulted in this superb specimen, every doctor in the country should recommend it.

You love me," he said slowly, wonderingly. Then with greater certainty, "By God, you love me." His astonished laugh ended on a choked note as he snatched her hand.
"So much," she said huskily. Her fingers curled hard around his. "So very, very much.

He'd always loved how she fought him. He loved the crackle and spark of her wit. Now he discovered he also loved the way she lay against him in what felt like perfect trust. ...
Antonia was a tall, vital woman, no shrinking miss. Now she felt brittle and vulnerable. He tightened his hold and told himself the surge of protectiveness meant nothing. Again he couldn't quite believe it.

[Verity]"What was that all about?"
[Duke of Kylemore] "The kiss? You said it yourself. It was to teach you a lesson." He used the cold cutting voice again ...
[Verity] That you can touch me whenever you feel like it?" She injected a challenge into her voice. "I already knew that."
[Duke of Kylemore] He smiled slightly. "Yes. But now you know when I touch you, you're not immune. And that thought will eat at you like acid.

He was ready to embrace a radiant new world. She was ready to snap his head off.

She's yours?" "Aye." He'd ridden down from London in easy stages to avoid having to trust to hired hacks. "She's a beauty." She stroked Saraband's silky nose. The horse extended her neck for more attention. "Far too fine to stay out in the rain." His lips twitched. He'd offer Cinderella half his fortune if she'd describe him in similar terms.

You promise to stop if I say so?" she asked doubtfully, even while she lay down.
"I promise. Though never trust anything a man tells you when he's got his head between your legs.

And if you must sacrifice yourself, do that by marrying me. I'm not an easy man. You'll earn your martyr's crown before you're done. Don't condemn both of us to an eternity of unhappiness just because you're too stiff-necked to face society's censure.