Karen Hawkins Quotes

He moved to the faded red chair she'd indicated. As he lowered himself into it, there was a loud crack. One of the wooden legs snapped and broke, just as Sophia and Angus had planned when they'd sawed it half-through.
A normal man would have been tossed to the floor, but with a little twist, MacLean shifted his weight forward and managed to remain upright, turning to regard the chair as it collapsed.
Sophia swept to her feet. "Goodness! How horrid!" She narrowed her gaze accusingly at the chair. There was nothing like a little humiliation to set a man against a location, and it was a pity MacLean hadn't been thrown to the floor as she'd planned.
MacLean bent and picked up a piece of the broken chair, his expression unfathomable. "Horrid, indead."
Her desire to smile fled. Did he suspect something? Could he see where Angus had cut the chair let partway through?
MacLean hefted the leg in his hand, his mouth thinned.
Sophia cleared her throat. "I'll call the butler to remove that."
His gaze locked with hers.The chair leg still in his hand,he walked toward her.
Sophia licked her suddenly dry lips. She didn't know this man, not really. What was he going to do?
She gripped the arms of her chair. Should she run for help? Surely not. Nothing she'd heard had indicated MacLean was a man of violence. Of course, everything she knew of him was mere heresay-
He stopped before her and stook looking down into her face with the faintest of smi

I've often thought it unfair that women are expected to stay at home when there's a fight to be won. If a
woman has the strength to bear a child, she can swing a sword as well as any man.

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.

Nonsense. One day, the right man will come along, and you'll change your mind."
Harriet wasn't so sure. In all her twenty-four years, she'd never met a single man who had managed to make her feel anything more than acute irritation.

If you leave within the hour, you can make it by nightfall. With this rain, I wouldn't wait longer. The stream is close to covering the bridge already."
Sophia had to smile. "Anxious to get rid of me?"
"Aye.I'm tried of seeing your long face over the breakfast table."
She laughed a little. "Red,I don't understand. Why are you so insistent about this?"
"Because if anyone knows the cost of lost opportunities, it's me. Sometimes you have to grab life by the horns and ride it,even if it tries to throw you. I don't want to see you spending the rest of your life wincing every time you say this man's name.

I dislike being held to a set of rules for no reason other than to create the impression of order, whether it exists or not.

Her gaze flickered to the balcony doors and back, her brows knitted in confusion. "My balcony doesn't connect to yours."
"I jumped." He grinned at the flash of concern he saw in "her eyes. "At dinner, your grandmother informed me that you'd be moving to the room beside mine. She also mentioned how close my balcony was to yours; so close that even an old lady like herself could leap between the two without the least effort."
Venetia's cheeks heated and she pulled her nightgown closer. "Grandmama is anything but subtle."
"Almost as subtle as your mother."
"Oh, no! Not Mama, too."

Gregor paused beside a small table to pick up a silver tray holding a cut crystal decanter and matching glasses and set it on the table before Venetia. "Your mother was concerned I might be afraid of heights. She told me that if she were thinking of jumping between the balconies and couldn't bring herself to make the leap, it might be possible to pick the lock on the connecting door with, say, a cravat pin."
Venetia blushed. "I'm surprised they aren't in here now, throwing rose petals before you as you walk."
"I would never countenance petal tossing. Too showy.

Perhaps I should just leave after all."
She whirled on him. "No! I'm just trying to find the right words,and I-oh,it's complicated!"
"Lies usually are."
She wetted her lips. "Lies?"
He raised his brow.
She sighed, her shoulders slumping, an expression almost of relief crossing her face. "You know."
Dougal nodded.
"Everything?"
He nodded again.
"How we tried to conceal the house's value? And disguised the beautiful paneling in the library? And-"
"Blocked up the chimneys and hid the good furnishings and served me food a dead man would refuse."
She bit her lip. "I'm sorry about that."
"No,you're not. You wanted me unhappy and uncomfortable."
"Well,yes-but not very uncomfortable.

What is this bluestocking?"
"A woman who fancies herself a member of the intelligentsia." He lowered his voice. "It's against the laws of nature."
Alexsey lifted his brows. "Why are you whispering? Afraid of bluestockings, are you?"
"All smart men are.

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I need a bath." He chuckled. "You smell of smoke, as do I." The duke turned, leaning heavily on his cane. "Jameson, open the carriage door. We shall return to the house." Beth smiled up at Christian. "Shall we adjourn to the house to get some ointment for your hands and a bath, my love?" His eyes lit. "A bath?" Grandfather snorted. "Someone send to London for a special license! Now.

I plan on flirting shamelessly, so it's a good thing you'll be up here."
"Flirt?"
"Naturally, I have to distract him while he's playing, and what better way than with a casual flirtation?"
"Distract him some other way!"
"What other way?"
"I don't know.You could ... you could drop something on him." Red squinted thoughtfully. "Yes! Scald him with tea."
"During a game? I want him to finish playing, not leap up and run from the room."
"Then think of something else.

It's funny how many little things you get used to - attached to, even - and never realize until you travel abroad and those things are not available.

Nonsense," Ophelia said stoutly. "They're happy sheep. You can tell."
"How?" Sophia demanded.
Ophelia regarded the ewes for a moment, then suddenly broke into a huge grin. "Maybe you can tell they
're happy sheep because they don't feel baaaaad.

No soft-skinned, lace-covered, dandified profligate would ever take this house and make it his.
Ever.

My marriage to Kincaid is a bit more complicated than I thought. There are certain things we don't agree
on, and - "
"You wish to change his mind about something," Gregor finished.
"How did you know?"
"I've noticed that women often have a desire to change men, even the ones they love."
"I've noticed that, too." Dougal frowned.

It took all of her moral strength not to kick him - just a little - while he was so conveniently at her feet.

Money, or the lack of it, haunted him. Oh, not because he had so little. He was, in fact, very wealthy. It was the beggarliness of his companion that caused him the most pain.

Jack! Pray tell Miss MacFarlane that the roads are impassable."
"The roads are impassable," he replied immediately.
"And that she should stay at least another day."
"You should stay at least another day," he repeated, a twinkle in his eyes.
Fiona nodded. "And that she is more then welcome here."
"I am certain she knows that."
"And how we'd love to have her for another week, at least,and-"
Jack laughed and took his wife's hand. "Fiona, my love, I believe Miss MacFarlane is very aware that we both wish her to stay."
Sophia had to smile. "I am very flattered, but we really must go. There've been so many unexpected storms that the roads could easily get worse."
Jack snorted a laugh while Fiona glanced up the stairs. "Haven't there been," she said grimly before returning to gaze at Sophia. "I am so disappointed you are leaving."
There was genuine warmth in Fiona's voice. "I am, too,but I must get back to my father, who has been ill. I was only to be gone one day, and he'll worry if I don't return immediately."
"I suppose you can't-"
"She's not going anywhere."
Sophia closed her eyes at the deep voice from the top of the stairs. Her enitre body had tightened at the sound, traitor that it was.
Dougal came down the stairs to stand before Sophia, his expressioin guarded and tense. "Fiona,Jack, would you mind giving me a few moments' private speech with Miss MacFarlane?"
"Will you attempt to persuade her to stay

You savor the things we seek to avoid.

London is good for two things - excellent Scotch and leaving.I miss them both, especially as I often partake of one while doing the other. I find the company stifling, the streets foul smelling and overcrowded, the houses bland and without architectural merit, and the people banal and filled with their own consequence. No matter how often I leave London, I cannot wait to leave it again. My home is in my explorations. Those always welcome me.

Love doesna always mean burning flashes o' passion. Sometimes, it's jus' the warmth o' yer hearts as they beat yer day together." ~Old Woman Nora to her three wee granddaughters on a cold winter's night.

It is a foolish man who apologizes without reason.

But like all simple things, once you add the human element, all hell breaks loose.

I'm very happy that you're following your dreams. I've discovered that they fragile things and must be fed if they are to live long enough to turn into reality. There are only two things that will feed a dream: action and honesty. If you are honest enough to face your dream, with all its limitations, and willing to take whatever action is necessary to make up for those limitations, then there is a good chance you will be one of the few to succeed.

Every time they lost their tempers, storms would gather."
"That could be a boon in dry weather.

Well, it is a good thing he died young. Most men don't have the good sense to know
when to quit this earth. At least your husband didn't drag on and on like some do.

Knowledge and action combined can win over any adversity known to man.

Jack took the note:
My lord, Lady Kincaid announced she would be out this evening. When I asked where, she said she
was going "carousing." That is a direct quote. Please advise. Devonsgate.

Yes,I was thinking about a nap,then..." He shrugged and glanced away. He didn't have to wait long.
"Oh,dear! The mattress was too lumpy, wasn't it?" Her rich voice lowered with false compassion. "I'm so sorry about that. Red refuses to purchase new mattress ticking when-"
"You misunderstood," Dougal said. "I didn't intend to take a nap, just to rest. However, the bed was so comfortable that I fell asleep anyway."
Sophia opened her mouth,then closed it. She'd spent hours stuffing his feather mattress with straw, wood chips, stones,and sticks. How could he posibly have slept? "How...how fortunate for you.My bed is as hard as a rock."
He leaned forward, so close that his lapel brushed her cheek, the scent of sandalwood engulfing her as he whispered in her ear, "Perhaps you need another opinion...about your bed.

It's the pure excitement of the find combined with the golden possibilities of what-may-be; one of bated breath, thundering heart,damp palms, and trembling limbs; a mixture of excruciating hope and the painfully exquisite fear of disappointment. It's a feeling that only another adventurer can truly understand.

But love? True love? As wretched as loneliness could be, it was nothing compared to the pain of betrayal. He'd seen with his own eyes what "love" did to a person - how it built hopes that were rarely, if ever, realized. Falling in love meant being weak, vulnerable to the whims of another.

If sarcasm were gold, she would have just made her fortune.

I am quite out of patience with him." Fiona Kincaid set her teacup on the small tray with a decided click. "Dougal's been in a horrid temper since he arrived."
"I like him better this way," Fiona's handsome husband retorted. "He barely said a word over breakfast."
She gave an exasperated sigh. "I'm surprised you two don't get along better, as you're very similar." Jack's flat stare made her add hastily, "In some things."
"In very few things.

Life was a hard teacher, but a thorough one.

But that's what happens when you allow a nice person to write a news paper serial for you; now the world thinks you're nice, too, which is silly in the extreme. Sadly, it's a burden that you must bear.

She watched beneath her lashes as his chair rocked with his weight. MacLean scowled and grabbed the edge of the table. Angus had cut varying lengths from each chair so that some rocked, while others were at a distinct forward slant so that you had to press back to keep from sliding into the floor.
"Is something wrong, Lord MacLean?"
"This chair." He scooted forward and slipped a little. With a scowl, he stood and pushed his chair to one side, selecting another.
"Lord MacLean-"
"Dougal," he said firmly, sitting down in the new chair. This one rocked backward, and he lurched, as if afraid it would topple over completely.
Sophia coughed to cover her amusement. From the dark scowl turned her way, she hadn't succeeded.
"That's it." Dougal shoved back the chair and stood,glancing about the room. "Ah!" He strode forward and picked out a thin book of sermons from a set on a side table. He lifted the back of his chair, placed a book beneath one leg, and sat down. "Much better."
Sophia wished he weren't quite so enterprising. She and Angus ha worked for hours to make every chair a uniquely uncomfortable experience.

My dear brother, never allow a woman to hold all of the cards.

No woman worth her salt would listen to a proposal without the word 'love' in it.

Jane, last night was" - he raked a hand through his hair - "nice."
Her expression could only be described as crestfallen.
"No,"he hurried to say. "Don't look like that! I didn't mean 'nice.' In fact, it wasn't nice at all."
Her brows lowered. "No?"
"No.I mean, yes! Yes, it was nice, but it was also very, very - " He tried with all of his might to grasp a word that would encompass that heart - pounding exertion that even now was making his balls hum,but to his horror, he heard himself say once again," - nice. But really, really, really nice.

Instantly, Lucinda fell to the floor in a swoon-" Bronwyn groaned. "Not again!

On the platter sat the roast, half of it black, the other half bloody. A wilted sprig of parsley sat beside it, as if Mary couldn't quite allow the roast to leave her kitchen without trying to disguise it.
Silence hung over the table.
Dougal set the cover to one side and removed the covers from the other dishes: a bowl of something green that sat in an oily liquid; a thick slab of pork in the middle of a large, chipped platter; some turnips floating unappetizingly in water; and a basket of undercooked bread.
Sophia thought the turnips were a nice touch. No one liked turnips.
Dougal picked up the carving knife. "Well, my dear?" he asked pleasantly, an amused glint in his eyes. "How do you like your meat? Raw? Or burned to a charred mess?

Gregor, have you ever been in love?"
"No, I've never been that foolish.

Pray stop your infernal whispering. You sound like a pack of nuns planning a murder.

But sometimes one must travel the rough road to reach one's ultimate destination.

Men never understand that all a woman truly wants is a man who will listen.Understand.Pay her bills.And,of course,love her madly even when her hips wide due to an unfortunate addiction to bon bons.

- Lady Jersey to Mrs.Cowper,as the two watched dancers waltz at Almack's.

Still,he noticed that though the house was in poor shape, the gardens were perfect. The paths were well lined, the flower beds filled with roses and lilacs, the trees well trimmed.
He smiled darkly.His beautiful little angel of trouble must have run out of time.

Stop looking as if you'd like to toss me from the window. Give me a hug, and go on to your dinner guest.

Family is the only anchor that will hold in a choppy sea.

One good thing that comes from living the nomadic life demanded by an expedition is that one sheds the fake skin donned from living too closely among society. For those of us who live for the freedom of such a lifestyle, that skin is dry and itchy and ill fitting. From my observances, that skin is much like a callus caused by the pure irritation of being forced to spend so much time with one's fellow man. Thank God I am spared such nonsense.

When the sun shines o'er the loch and sparkles on the water like diamond drops, ye know one thing:
somewhere there's a MacLean who is smilin'.

He was going to enjoy pressing his little scheming hostess into improprieties she'd not soon forget. He didn't need a storm to make his point; he had his own powers of persuasion-and he'd use them all on her.
He led her to the library, to the table holding the sherry. "Will you do the honors?" He leaned forward and added in a low voice, "Or perhaps you'd like us to do it together-your hand under mine, your fingers wrapped around the neck of the decanter as we-"
Color flooded her cheeks, and she said in a breathless voice, "I will be glad to pour us some sherry-though I'm surprised you wish for some more."
"It is wretched, but your cook has ruined my palate.When I return to London, I won't know good port from bad, burned meat from raw, and don't begin to talk to me about soups.

Is she always like that?"
"Like what?" Sara asked absently, staring a^ the letter in her hands.
"Floating about as if she was a blasted fairy.

Blast it! Where is that letter?"
Sophia pulled it from her pocket. "I have it here."
Sir Reginald's voice lifted with amazament. "You took that from me? When we were-"
"Yes," she said, her color high. "I thought you'd sold my jewelry and that the envelope contained the payment. I wanted proof,so I took it."
"By kissing me?"
Outside, lightning cracked.
"You kissed him?" Dougal demanded.
"Only once."
"Actually, it was twice," Sir Reginald said softly.
Dougal punched him, sending the dandy flying into the wall, where he slid to the floor.
"B'God, that's a nice one!" Red cried. "MacLean, I'd like to see you in a real mill."
"Aye," the earl agreed. "He's got a good solid left."
"What do you know about boxing? Red asked rudely.
"I've seen every large match for the last-"
Thunder crashed as lightning sent shards of light flashing into the great hall.
"That's enough," Dougal said firmly, noting Sophia's pale face.

No, my lord. I merely thought it unwise for you to visit the Duke of Massingale and request his granddaughter's hand in marriage while intoxicated." Reeves replaced the stopper on the decanter and carried it back to the sideboard. "His Lordship would not appreciate such a display.

No matter what station you hold in life, there will always be things that will surprise you. Whether you choose to be outraged or delighted is up to you.

Financial standing, a social position beyond what she has now, and a husband to dote upon her every wish. What more could she ask for?"
"Maybe youth. Vigor. Teeth."
"Lord Cameron has his own teeth." Margaret narrowed her eyes at the other candidate. "I'm not so certain about Munro. They seemed somewhat clacky at dinner, so I'm suspicious.

Jack looked at the paper. Devonsgate had listed all twelve footmen: John, Mark, Luke,
Thomas ... Bloody hell, his butler had hired the entire New Testament.

The world has no boundaries for someone who savors success and is willing to work for it.

I've noticed that women often have a desire to change men, even the ones they love."
"I've noticed that, too." Dougal frowned. "Which is odd, when you think about it. Because if you didn't
like the way a man is, why would you attach yourself to him to begin with?

Unable to watch the knife enter her tender skin, Lucinda closed her eyes tightly as - Oh!" Bronwyn lowered the book as Scott looked at her with concern. "Why would you close your eyes? You should fight, not just stand there like a - Argh! If I wasn't certain Roland was about to arrive, I'd stop reading right here."

Sighing, she returned to the book. "Lucinda closed her eyes tightly just as the door burst open. Roland, handsome and stalwart Roland, had come!"

Bronwyn nodded with satisfaction. "Of course he did. He always does, whether Lucinda deserves him or not.

If you ever find yourself presented with a fork in the road of life and you do not know the correct direction, close your eyes and listen to your heart. I have found more adventure, more love, more happiness, and more life by listening to who I am, rather than attempting to tell myself.

Then you must also spend the night. We are miles from an inn, and I can promise you that the sheets are fresh and clean." And the beds are lumpier than those at any posting house.

He couldn't have eaten that horrid soup!"
"He did,and he even pretended to like it."
"Pretended?"
"No one could have liked that meal." She wrinkled her nose. "Mary was mortified."
"Mary can be mortified all she wishes; we can't have MacLean da-"
Sophia slipped the spoon into his mouth and dumped the contents.
Red choked, his face contorting, and he looked around wildly.
"Do not spit that out."
He glared at her, and after what appeared and sounded like a heroic effort, he swallowed the laudanum. "Blech! There! I hope ye're happy!" He grabbed up a hand cloth and began rubbing his tongue vigorously.
She calmly replaced the spoon and recorked the bottle. "As I was saying, MacLean swore that he liked every dish at dinner, even the turnips. They were so hard it almost broke my knife to cut one."
"Hm.That's very odd,it is.

Innocent and virtuous, she represented the exact type of female he avoided... God, she was a taking thing, even for an avaricious reformer.

Shoes really did lead the perfect life. They were polished and taken care of and not
expected to do anything more painful than occasionally step in a bit of mud or a rare puddle. She'd
wager her shoes never wished they could just disappear.

Dougal eyed the breakfast repast. In addition to burnt toast, there was poorly trimmed ham, eggs that looked rubbery enough to bounce off the floor, pathetically dry scones, and small, smoking pieces of something he suspected had once been kippers.
Sophia noted Dougal's disgusted expression, and her heart lifted.
He looked amazingly handsome this morning, dressed in a pale blue riding coat and white shirt, his dark blond hair curling over his collar, his green eyes glinting as he began to fill his plate. Two scones, a scoop of eggs, and a large piece of blackened ham all went onto his plate.
Sophia had eaten earlier in the kitchen with Mary, who had served warm muffins with cream and marmalade, some lovely bacon, and crusty toast, complemented by a pot of hot tea.
Sophia hid a smile as Dougal attempted to cut his ham. Too tough for his blade, it tore into uneven pieces under his knife. He lifted a piece and regarded it on the tines of his fork.

He dropped to one knee before her. "Sophia MacFarlane, though I've been every sort of fool there is, and though I've stolen from you and lied to you, as you've stolen from me and lied to me, will you please marry me? To keep me out of trouble, if nothing else."
She gave a hiccup of a laugh, her eyes moist with tears. "Only if you, Dougal MacLean, will have me. After all I did to save MacFarlane House, I now realize that without people in it, the people I love, it's nothing more than an empty building. My home is with you, inside your heart."
Dougal swept Sophia into his arms and kissed her thoroughly. Then, laughing, he set her back on her feet. "Come, my love, let's find my sister. She spent a good part of the afternoon telling me what a fool I was.I have to show her that she was wrong."
"And you need my help to do that?"
"It would be a great boon if you'd cling to my arm and look absurdly happy."
Sophia chuckled. "I think I can manage that."
It was a noisy, contentious group that moved down the hall, as the earl and Red continued to snipe at each other, and Sir Reginald felt he needed to explain his improper embrace with Sophia even though everyone attempted to dissaude him.

It is surprising how many times a good feeling can be confused with a bad one. Often one is unsure which feeling it really is until much later.

Women provide the only true link to civilization. Men simply are not ruthless enough to survive on their own.

I'm surprised a person with your experience in telling elaborate fables should have difficulty in thinking up such a simple tale, but I suppose it's a different issue when you have to think quickly rather than spend time thoroughly developing your story."
"I'm sure that's it," she replied blithely, cutting her bacon into small bits."I'm also sure that my skills will grow over time. I just need to practice, practice, practice. Did I ever tell you about the dragon I owned when I was a child?

I invited Miss MacFarlane because I could see that there was something between the two of you."
"Something that I longed to avoid."
Fiona eyed him a moment, obviously fascinated. "Would you explain what you mean?"
"No."
She pursed her lips. "What if I promise to name my next child after you?"
Dougal lifted his brows. "Won't Jack dislike that?"
A smile quivered on her lips. "Yes. Which is why I though it a wonderful inducement for you."
"I don't believe you'd do that."
"Well,I would," Fiona said firmly.

I dinna normally answer the door."
"Ah," Strath said, offering a charming smile as he whipped off his hat. "You are doing a fine job thus far. Well done, Mrs. Pitcairn."
She eyed Strath the way a cat might eye a snake. "It dinna take much in the way o'talent.

One should never ask a man questions about his personal life. He just might answer and then you, my dear, would have to listen.

Ye'll wish a bath this evening, and while I don't mind servin' as yer cook, I'm not washin' yer back."
"I won't ask if of you, I promise.

Some crave the safety of boredom while others crave the bravery of adventure.

A woman with a voice like that should have the face of an angel, the body of a Greek sculpture, and the skills of a courtesan. Chances were, she was a haggard old crone.
The hulking workman began to gather his tools. "I hope ye and yer pa know what ye're doin'. Fop or no, no man takes well to losin' his belongings."
"Psht," the woman said airily. "It's not as if we plan on knocking him in the head and peeling his pockets."
That was something,at least, Dougal thought grimly.

Not used to be being bested, are you?"
"No," he said bluntly. "Poseidon could outrun your mare, and you know it. But I'm not about to risk galloping over a field I don't know. There could have been rabbit holes."
"Of course.Rabbit holes.I understand."
He frowned,about to defend his actions further, when he noted a twinkle in her gaze. The little minx was taunting him. For some reason, that improved his mood, and he said with a smile, "Sophia, my love, don't tempt a sinner. I am not afraid of you or your horse, and you damn well know it."
"I'm sure you have a reason for not wishing to race," she returned in a demure voice, though her eyes sparkled with laughter. "I am just not certain you have a just cause."
"I have both. The reason for not racing you is the potential harm to the animals; and the just cause is that I wish to keep you alone for as long as possible. And that will be more difficult to do once we reach the house."
Her brows rose, a faint color touching her cheeks. "Oh."
His lips twitched. "That's all you can say now? After all that posturing? You are a tease,my lady."
"I don't consider myself so."
"No woman does, and yet most are.

You,my lord, are giving me goose bumps."
"Every beautiful woman deserves to be clothed in no less.

I don't need a hero. I was blessed with a large amount of common sense, which is of infinitely more use than a man.

You learn a lot about a person by the way he plays cards.
Then it was a good thing no one had seen her play.

Bloody hell, were you this annoying with my father?" "I fear I was more so, my lord. I was younger then and could go on and on and on - " "Good. The old bastard deserved a difficult time." "So many people believe.

Pray don't hold back," Robert said politely. "You can tell me what you really think of my valet." Stewart broke in to a reluctant grin."Sorry fer bein' so forward, sir, but that valet o' yers is nothin' but a Frenchified piece o' lace.

Some women
the good ones
are like a breath of fresh air, amusing and different and invigorating. The trouble is that it is damnably difficult to capture air and hold it for any length of time.

Furthermore, there's marshland on the other side of these hills. No one can even live near it, because the mist produces ill humors."
"Ill humors?"
"Yes.The entire place is encircled in thick forest, too." She lowered her voice. "They say there are wolves there,the size of humans."
"I like wolves," Dougal said mildly. "The larger, the better."
She blinked.
"They're great sport for hunting. And I am an avid hunter." He glanced across her, lingering at certain areas. "As you may have guessed.

You can get lost, pretending to be someone you're not.

Sophia had been hard pressed not to laugh when MacLean had tripped over one of the floorboards she and Angus had pried loose. Better yet, MacLean had ripped his lace-edged sleeve on a broken nail in the doorframe of his bedchamber. She knew because she'd heard his loud curse from the hallway.
Sophia had expected him to roar at the servants and demand things be repaired, but all he did was ask Angus for a hammer to protect himself from the loose boards and stray nails that seemed to plague MacFarlane House.
To Sophia's delight, Angus had gloomily replied that there weren't enough hammers in the whole of Scotland to do that.
Since Angus had left MacLean in his bedchamber, they hadn't heard a word from him. Perhaps the man was sleeping, although how could anyone sleep in such a damp room and with such a lumpy mattress and smoky chimney?
More likely, he was awake and seething at being forced to endure such horrid conditions. She wished she had been there to witness his reaction to the threadbare furniture with broken springs and flat cushions, the inadequate bed coverings for the chilly chamber (it faced north, where the wind was fiercest), a window that was nailed slightly open, and more.

The weather is certainly unpredictable here,isn't it?"
"It's always unpredictable when the MacLeans are involved."
She turned to look at him. "You've heard the rumors of the curse?"
"I've heard them and believe them." He moved beside her. "Don't you?"
The pocket she needed to reach was on his other side, blast it. "Do you think one of the MacLeans might be angry now?"
He looked over her head to the gathering clouds, a frown settling between his eyes. "Yes," he said quietly. "One of them is growing more furious by the moment."
A fresh wind now tossed the treetops about, the grass rippled like an angry ocean, and the clouds filled the entire sky.

To make matters worse, he added in a deep voice that made her shiver, "I love turnips."
It was indecent that the man could make a sentence as abhorrent as "I love turnips" sound like an improper proposition.
But Dougal MacLean managed it.

hmmm. Didn't they say a man's feet echoed the size of his manhood? Of its own accord, her gaze darted up Gregor's leg to where his deliciously tight breeches caressed his-
"Knife."
She blinked, her gaze jerking up to his face, her skin flushing. Please, God, don't let him know what I was thinking.
"Knife." he said again.
"Knife?" she repeated dumbly.
"Good god, Oglivie. I will need a knife if I'm to cut these vegetables.

Aye,Ware is your grandfather, though a more worthless arse I couldn't name.

The other animals." When she didn't reply, he sighed, frustration on his face. "They have - what you say - hop, hop. And they have the-" He put his hand behind his head and made a 'V' then wiggled his fingers.

"Ah! You mean hares.

Beth grimaced. "He is a pompous ass." "And in dire need of a wealthy wife. Perhaps you should find a twitch to go with your stutter." "I would fall upon the floor in a fit if I thought it might do some good. The man is a menace.

He can cook?"
"In a manner of speaking," Mrs. Treadwell said, cheerfully.
"What manner of speaking is that?

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Good God! What in the hell was that noise?" The man in front of them turned in his seat. "That's what I've been asking myself this half hour and then some

...then tossed the coat into the water. "Hurst! That's a perfectly good coat!"
"Yes, and I have a perfectly good life. One of those two things is not replaceable.

And that was love. True love. The kind that carried on and lasted through the good days and the difficult days. The kind of love that always gave, and never hurt. It might not be the kind of mad love poets wrote about, but it was the kind of love strong enough to build a home upon, secure in the knowledge that this man would be there when things went wrong and would do everything in his considerable power to make things right again.

Buchan had discovered a wealth of small tidbits. He now knew her first name - Tatiana. Like Shakespeare's fairy queen. Be she but little, she is fierce.

How can you become the leader of Romany if you're a prince of Oxenburg?"
"I have three brother. And as Tata Natasha is fond of telling us, there is not room on the throne for four asses.

Women prefer to draw blood using words. It can cause just as much havoc, but it doesn't stain the carpet.

You and I are from two different worlds."
"Nonsense. We have much in common. We both like books, dogs, poems, Sir Walter Scott, dogs - I could go on."
"You listed dogs twice."
"It does not matter; I still made my point."
"No, you haven't.