Jillian Hunter Famous Quotes
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A grin broke across Heath's hansome face. "The last time I saw such a collection of Boscastles in church was at Father's funeral. Who invited the mistresses?"
"I think I did, "Grayson said, suppressing a yawn."God knows I've been sitting here so long my brain's gone stiff."
"You invited them to a wedding?"
"It's not my wedding thank God."
"Well, it is your chapel."
"Ergo I invite whom I please."
"Someone might have thought to invite the groom.
He wasn't stupid. He'd watched enough of his friends drop like flies when the fatal illness struck.
Now he was himself stricken; he showed all the Six Deadly Symptoms of a Man in Love:
1) Inability to think straight.
2) An alarming propensity to smile at the oddest moments.
3) Constant thoughts of the object of one's desire.
4) Absolutely no interest in other members of the opposite sex.
5) A startling sense of goodwill toward the world in general.
6) A perpetual state of sexual arousal.
Do you really think I'm bad?"
"Of course, Jane. Every woman is, if given the chance.
A god in the hand is worth two on Olympus.
Lord Sedgecroft--"
"Ssh. It isn't polite to interrupt me when I'm kissing you.
"Ssh. It isn't" title="Jillian Hunter Quotes: Lord Sedgecroft--""Ssh. It isn't" width="913px" height="515px" loading="lazy"/>
The host in question, the chapel's owner, Grayston Boscastle, the fifth Marquess of Sedgecroft, sat thinking that the bride had the most appealing derriere he had seen in a long time. Not that he made a point of lusting after young women in wedding dresses, but he had been staring at the back of her for over two hours now. A normal man's curiosity could not help but be aroused. What else was he to look at? He wondered whether the rest of her was appealing.
Heath slid two fingers beneath Adrian's white neckcloth to feel his pulse. "In that case, I can state with complete confidence that he shall be all right."
"Then why isn't he moving?" she asked in a distraught voice.
Heath smiled. "Ask him."
She looked down into a pair of hazel eyes smoldering with unholy mirth. Adrian's lean cheek pressed into the curve of her breast.
A wolf, indeed.
