Lecia Cornwall Quotes

The sensation burst over her, flames and sparks, stars, and all that was holy. She clung to him, blinded by the sun above her, feeling like the light had entered her veins to sing through her book, lift her high above the earth.

These are Scottish lassies. They'll have been brought up to believe that Englishmen have long tails and cloven hooves."
"I'll be happy to prove there's no tail on this Sassenach," John said, grinning.
"Ah, but if they see you without breeches they'll know the other wee rumor about Sassenach men is true. They'd certain not have you then.

Have I shocked you, mistress? Do you still believe you can heal him? A virgin who's seen nothing of the world, a man who's seen the very worst of it?" John demanded, his voice hard edged.

What it like to sail?" she asked.
His gaze shifted, and he stared into the distance. "It's freedom. Like riding a powerful horse with a gait like silk. You speed over the waves, carried on the wind, held up over an unknowable depth of water beneath you, with the entire sky above. And that sky is a different color depending on where on earth you are. There are a thousand shades of blue. You can look up and know where you are, just by the color. And the stars at night - there's indescribable beauty in the stars, like a woman's eyes, flashing, shining... And yet, they are tools, enabling navigation, a map to follow..."
She stared at his profile as he spoke, at the scars that marred his brow and cheeks, the crooked line of his broken nose, the elegant, aristocratic line of his jaw, half-hidden under the shadow of stubble, and the soft, sensual curve of his mouth. She saw the sea in his eyes, smelled the wind, tasted the salt, and she felt her chest tighten with a longing to sail, to experience speed and adventure. Breathless, she felt the presence of the man in the portrait, the rogue, the bold captain. Her heart twisted as she imagined him in prison, beaten, chained, tormented to madness. He was still a prisoner, trapped inside the cage of his injured flesh, his damaged bones, his memories of unspeakable horrors.
What would it take to set him free?

The cat let out a low, anguished yowl, and all three warriors jumped to attention and looked at the creature. Beelzebub prowled in a circle, then flopped over onto his side.
"He's dying," Jock whispered.
The cat gave an exasperated sigh and shut his eyes.
Dair regarded Fia's pet. "He wants a lass, a female cat," he said....
He looked at the cat again, at the bored expression, the edgy swish of his tail, the tense, restless muscles, and knew just how the beast felt.

Dair stared at his father's hand, fisted tight on the arm of his chair, and ignored the question. "I saw her in the bailey with her cat. A terrible beast."
Padraig grinned. "The lass or the cat?