Anne Mallory Quotes

Sometimes the measure of a person can only be gleaned through his interactions with others.

I understand what it is like to rely on beauty and know the shallowness of it ... Yet, it is impossible to say if you would have caught my attention the first time had you been plain and wrapped in brown. Thus remains the endless dilemma of beauty's impressionable curse.

Never frightening her with anything but her own feelings for him.

Will you oblige me then?' His voice was low and smooth, nearly whispered ...
Everything froze for a moment. Even the flickering lamps seemed to pause, flames surging upward and waiting ...
'No.

Three out of the four are good choices.'
'Three out of-' Her voice strangled. 'And the fourth?'
He waved a hand. 'An outside chance. Besides' - his eyes stayed on the ledger - 'whoever the winner, the prize will be immense enough that he will become a prize himself, whatever his previous faults or station.

He slowly smiled. 'Good. We'll start with the basics.'
Her mind went blank. 'Basics?'
'Of kissing. Most people aren't good at kissing right from the start.' He looked her over. 'Unless you are a natural.'
She blinked stupidly.
His hand reached up and touched her cheek, gently tilting her head. 'It's like connecting puzzle pieces when you kiss. Or when you do anything else of a sexual nature.' The parts of her brain not already blank blessedly went dark.

It is my hope that in the end, we are evenly matched.' ... Being the one in power was desirable in order to put one's pieces in place. To test an opponent. But uneven power grew unendingly boring. And it was why most of his liaisons were short-lived. He wanted someone who waited and plotted, then struck back and made him move and think.

I would destroy the city if something happened to you. I can't even bear the thought of it.

Most people would not trust a drunken prostitute like Daise. Would you have two weeks ago?'
She blinked at him. 'I don't know.' She hadn't even thought about prostitutes, drunken or not, two weeks ago. 'That could be me on the corner were things different.' She swallowed. 'Or if they go differently, it still could. I would want someone to believe me.

That if he were killed in the next few weeks, it would assuredly be near her. At her feet, in her bed. Inside of her.
Unfortunately, that last thought just made him think that if he had to choose his final moments, being
inside Charlotte would really be the way to go.

Now,' [her father] barked.
She stiffly followed, still fully dressed in the elaborate navy-and-white gown she had worn all evening. It was hard not to feel as if the bare walls and surfaces she passed had been bled, leeched, into the cloth encasing her. Stripped paint and sacrificed heirlooms clinging to her, demanding she make everything right once more.

Yes. She got into a right state when she realized no one could read them, though. She's setting up some sort of literacy curse. Some of the boys want to know
is that like gypsy magic? Can you curse someone to read?

I think we should speak more of my suggestions, Miss Chatsworth.' He tilted his head and looked at the door, then dismissed it and whoever might be behind it. 'Unless you enjoy the spread of ugly rumors?'
'Blackmail?' She twisted her lips ... 'How bourgeois.'
'Actually, blackmail heartens back to the best of kings.

The duke's eyes were dark, but there was a glaze there. Pride in his dark son.

He was well aware of what an ass he was. Only
Roman could tolerate him, really. Stupid, charming
bastard.

Rumors often reflect the wishes of others.

She thought back to what Roman had said. That the power rested in her lap. The problem was that internalizing that revelation also meant decisions could no longer be pushed aside.

No one is fine on his own. People just say they are.

I want to know who she is particularly close to
among the staff here." Who is besotted with her. Hell,
they probably all were. Except Donald, who rarely
broke his stoic façade. And Andreas. "And what
questions she asks."
Donald inclined his head, hair slipping a fraction
more. "It will be done." He watched Andreas for a
moment. "And she and her family will be safe here,"
he said, gaze steady, eyes just an extra bit bright.
Andreas nodded sharply back, dismissed him
quickly, all while trying to hold back the curses
layering his tongue at the words that were both said
and unsaid. Donald was infected too.
Goddamn biscuits.

How do you define difficult?"
"By your presence."
She grinned fully, delighted to feel the tension
dissipate. "Now you are just flattering me for no
reason."
He grunted.
"On the contrary," she said, as if his grunt had
been a worded response. "It was most flattering."
He stared at her.
"What? Did you think I wouldn't figure out how to
interpret your grunts?

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Tell me what has happened in this week that you've been absent from my window.

Lies from the closest to you are often the most numerous and paralyzing.

I suppose I will just have to make sure that I marry someone I look forward to curling around every morning. Whom I can't be without before breakfast. Or in the noon. Whom I need to race home to see after each appointment. Determined to lock her in my rooms, not because I need to hide anything but because I'd just as soon have her all to myself. To look upon her beloved face and hear her lips whisper in my ear.

[My marriage to Abby] won't even be a blip on the gossip sheets unless we treat it as such.'
'Everything is fodder for the gossip sheets.'
'Not if we don't dignify it with a response and just go along as if this is the way things will be.

Her jaw dropped. "You - you -"
He chuckled and winked at her. Her ire evaporated like the steam from the pot--coiling and disappearing into the air. When he used his wiles on her, he was tantalizing. With that purely happy look on his face he was devastating.
"You do realize that I will have my revenge?" she said calmly, though her heart was racing.
"I could hope for no less." He flashed her a grin, and she gripped the side of the table to keep from moving closer.
"I dislike you."
"Always a comfort to know." He looked at the kitchen clock, a small mantel piece positioned precariously on a shelf. "Right on time for the night."
She blinked. She supposed it was something of a nightly ritual. "Wouldn't want to disappoint you, your highness."
"Your majesty, if you will.

Better to leave dreams behind and go forward with purpose.

But it had always been that smile. Not her position
as Henry Wilcox's possible wife nor the possibility
that he could take his enemies down by manipulating
her family. Those hadn't been the things that had
driven him when it came to his feelings for her.
It had been that smile. Through the shadows of the
theater that first night. When their eyes had met. She
had smiled. Simply. Warmly. Looking directly at him,
unaware that she should be afraid.

I never realized Death was so fleet of foot.'
'The fleetest. Always dancing in the shadows.'
'Always waiting for his next partner?'
'Dancing through a long list until he finds the perfect one.

You will be my conscience, and I will be your shame.

Every good seduction first begins with a baited hook.

This was what marriage was like, being able to look one's fill.

And you did all of this before I awakened?'
'Not all of us can afford to be layabouts ... You upper class types are all the same. Sleep until noon and then fritter your nights away.'
She narrowed her eyes. 'I do not fritter my nights away.'
'Really? And what do you do at night?'
'I go to social events. Parties or galas. Sometimes a musicale. Or a charity event,' she tacked on with satisfaction.
'Well, I must retract my frittering comment in that case.'
'It's not frittering. It's surviving.

You read a lot?" Galina finally asked.
"Yes. It's an escape into another world." She tried to keep her words light instead of sad, thoughts of her family in her head. "Sometimes that is the best part of a hard day.

Come, what secret describes this scene?" "Enjoy everything around you, even if you've seen it a thousand times before?" She said it as lightly as she could, as was often the case around him. She never knew whether to treat his attention as lingering amusement or seriousness. His fingers touched her chin, lifting it softly. "Even should I see you a thousand times. Each time would be a new lure.

No one knocked on his door the next day. Nor the
day after. Nor the one after that. But that didn't mean
he was unaware of what was happening. Someone
had carried a plate of those fucking biscuits past his
room, and even the oak door had provided no
barrier for the smell. Not for anything of hers.

She gifted him with that soft smile. And it did that
strange thing to his insides. He would probably lead
a revolt against the king if she asked him to do it
while wearing that smile.

Emotions are lovely. Even if they fall to the negative for a time. The sun will rise again another day. The sadness perhaps never forgotten, but a new day enjoyed in another way. A way that could not have been but for the sadness's existence.

Oh!" This was said brightly, as if she was happy he had noticed. "I decided I needed my own workspace, instead of constantly infringing upon yours. So I had a few of the boys move a desk in here."

He stared at the petite, feminine, desk that was pushed against his. And wondered how the bloody hell she had managed to convince men who were terrified of him to move the desk inside his domain.

"Absolutely not."

***

Two hours later, he was still scowling as she happily worked on . . . whatever the hell it was she was working on. Across from him. At her desk. How the hell . . .

He remembered saying no. He remembered cursing. Threatening her unborn children. Then there was a sort of hazy period of smiles and calm words. Then she had touched the back of his hand with her naked fingers.

And now, here he was with . . . her desk . . . pressed to his - surreptitiously watching her scratch her paper, the tip of her tongue poking from the side of her mouth as she worked.

I'm going to possess you, Charlotte,"
His free hand caressed the flesh of her throat, then threaded into the hair at her nape, pulling the strands there, tipping her head back. Not harshly, but not gently either. "I;m going to take you and claim you and make you beg."
His lips were breaths from hers. Breaths she couldn't count or take.
"The question is, will you passively accept such, or will you possess me right back," he whispered, nearly against her lips. "Take me, claim me? Make me beg? Push from my mind any though that isn't you?

For someone with so many books and such desire to obtain new copies, you seem awfully ambivalent about them." "I know their power and impact. It is all about perception, is it not, Miss Chase?" She studied him. "I like to think it is about content, Lord Downing. But perception does lay a gloss on the surface. A finger must but swirl beneath.

He had told Downing that they would let the lady decide. That perhaps it was in Charlotte's best interest to accept and show her father what his actions wrought ... But she had cut the conversation short, said adieu, turned from all of them. Strode directly to her fate without another word.
Not just from pride or anger though.
He looked at her, at the delicate skin of her flawless neck, and smiled. No, her pulse didn't jump like that as a result of pride or anger or fear. Her voice didn't hitch [due to] chagrin at an unfortunate turn of events. That jump, that hitch ... what the telltale signs meant ... that was why she was doomed.

You just threatened them with a gun. I think I just threatened them with a gun. We got the money back. They actually returned it.' She took another shaky step. 'I feel so ... vibrant.'
His eyes were cynical. 'Delayed emotion. Don't do anything stupid because of it.

Books allow readers to determine what they wish. People often aren't quite as forgiving if you don't read or see exactly what they wish you to.

What do you have?"
"Wine. Weak cider. Water. Whiskey."
"A veritable plethora of 'W' drinks."
"If I ever have walrus piss, I will offer it as well.

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You are the least sane person I've had the
misfortune to meet."
The corners of her eyes pinched a little, just for the
barest second, then cleared. "Well, there are plenty
more people for you to meet, Mr. Merrick, so do not
give up hope yet." But the tone of her voice was far
too cheerful.
He watched her for a moment. Watched as her
face cleared of anything remotely hurt or upset. "Do
you object to being called insane or my saying that I
had the misfortune of meeting you?"
"Neither, of course."
He drummed his finger on the desk, irritated and,
God, how did people live feeling guilty about things?
"You are just fine as you are," he said gruffly.
Her expression froze for a moment, then bloomed
into a smile that would slay demons.

I wish to pay my debt. To give you the night I owe' ...
'Oh, Charlotte. You play with fire.'
'Do I?'
Roman looked at the woman in front of him, calm and collected, but there was heat there, such precious heat that was straining. Offering.
It took only one second for the words to form and emerge. 'Consider the debt of the night wiped free.'
He saw her blink. Stunned.
Watched the disappointment form. He felt nearly giddy as her disappointment form.
'What, but-'
'But what?' He smiled, loving the look on her face, even the desire that was slowly shuttering - for he would obliterate those shutters with his next words. 'You think I am freeing you? ... I am a selfish man.'
'A selfish man takes what is offered to him.' Was that doubt in her voice, doubt of her charms?
'No, a selfish man destroys what is offered to him and demands more. He demands everything.

No." She smiled. "I am exactly where I need to be.
I have no desire to enter negotiations with Lord
Garrett and his heir."
He couldn't keep down his dark pleasure at that.

Some people get dealt all the aces in life.

Change was Fate' the Romans said. well, Andreas loathed Fate, That Bitch.

Yes, I think I like all of those images. I can see your head thrown back and that long, smooth neck exposed to me in all of them.' His finger trailed down the side of her throat. 'Your eyes are becoming even more smoky and sensual, Marietta. From the inside out now, rather than the outside in. Shall we see what happens when the knowledge blooming there becomes a large, petaled rose?