Elizabeth Hoyt Quotes

He was aware, suddenly, of the chill condensing clammily on his skin, the smell of damp cobblestones, of the very air flowing in and out of his lings.
But most of all he was aware of the woman, this woman, his woman, standing so proudly, waiting patiently for him, only him.
He walked toward her and knew with every fiber of his being that he walked to life itself. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

For the first time in a very long time, he yearned to see tomorrow. Tomorrow and the day after that and the year after that. There was a possibility that with Megs he might have a life to look forward to. And because of that, tonight he was going to hunt down a man and assassinate him in cold blood. This act would damn his very soul but for Megs it was worth it.
For Meggie he would walk the fires of hell. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

Harry tucked her arm through his and marched her to the door.
"Stop!"
"What?"
Men could be so obtuse. "Do I look like I've just been tumbled?"
Harry's lips twitched. "You look like the most beautiful woman in the world." He kissed her soundly again. He hadn't exactly answered her question, but it was too late now. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

He was like a star in the night sky above and she but a sparrow. No matter how high she might try to fly, she'd never reach him. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

He grunted and stirred, withdrawing from her. She only had a moment to be disappointed and then he flipped her to her back and rose over her, powerful and male. He casually parted her legs with his knees and thrust into her again, hot and hard.
She gasped at the swift invasion, the lovely feeling, and then his face was next to hers, his big palms cradling her cheeks.
"What I want," he drawled, "is ye. Nothin' else. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

Indio started forward and took the big man's hand as naturally as he'd taken his mother's. Come on! Maude's making roast chicken and there'll be gravy and dumplings. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

There, there, sweetin'," he murmured into her hair.

"He loved me, he truly did," she gasped.

"I know he did," Michael said.

"And I loved him."

"Mm-hmm."

She raised her head, glaring angrily. "You don't even believe in love. Why are you agreeing with me?"

He laughed.

"Because" - he leaned down and licked at the tears on her cheeks, his lips brushing softly against her sensitive skin as he spoke, "ye've bewitched and bespelled me, my sweet Silence, didn't ye know? I'll agree that the sky is pink, that the moon is made o' marzipan and sugared raisins, and that mermaids swim the muddy waters o' the Thames, if ye'll only stop weepin'. Me chest breaks apart and gapes wide open when I see tears in yer pretty eyes. Me lungs, me liver, and me heart cannot stand to be thus exposed."

She stopped breathing. She simply inhaled and stopped, looking at him in wonder. His lips were quirked in a mocking smile, but his eyes - his fathomless black eyes - seemed to hold a great pain as if his strong chest really had been split open. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

I write both at home and at coffee shops, and I have a terrible work ethic - I have a tendency to write most of my books right before the deadline. I'm trying to work on that, but so far, I'm not getting any more organized. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

He grinned, but a bead of sweat ran down his temple. Then with your permission. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

He smelled the scent of roses and it nearly maddened him.
Or perhaps he was already mad.
"Run now," he whispered.
She stared at him, refusing to move.
"Very well," he snarled, and took her into his arms. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

You say my name like a lover, so soft, so sweet. I want to lick the word from your lips, sip the exhaled breath from your mouth. I want to possess you utterly. Right now. Right here. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

For a moment she lay still in the big bed, blinking sleepily, loath to move.
And then she realized that the angel's song hadn't stopped on her waking.
Silence sat up. The tantalizingly beautiful voice was coming from the half-open door to Mickey O'Connor's room. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

The end of his vicious rant ended in a satisfying squawk as Apollo backhanded him. The other man staggered and fell on his arse. "No, don't hurt him!" Lily cried, and Apollo hated to think she cared for this man. "I won't," he assured her in a level tone. He stared at the sputtering rogue for a moment and made up his mind. "But neither will I ... stand by while he ... abuses you." So saying, he picked up the man and tossed him over his shoulder. "Wait here." The man made a sort of moan and Apollo hoped he wouldn't toss his accounts down his back. He'd bathed and changed into a fairly clean shirt before coming to see Lily. Pivoting, he marched toward the dock, the man still over his shoulder. "Caliban!" He ignored her calls. He didn't really care who this ass was - as long as he was nowhere near Lily or Indio. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

Every word you have ever uttered, is engraved upon my heart. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

Never sleep anywhere but in my bed." She might have protested, but he turned her roughly so that she lay on her stomach, her cheek pressed into his pillow. He lay on top of her, his upper body braced on his arms but his hips and legs weighing her down. Trapping and holding her. "You're mine," he said, laying his cheek against hers. "Mine and no one else's. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

Well, Scarborough cares, doesn't he? Maximus doesn't - not really. No doubt he's a bit compelled by the chase, but if he doesn't win" - she shrugged her shoulders - "he'll simply find another suitable heiress. She - Lady Penelope herself - doesn't really matter to him. And if it comes right down to it, wouldn't you chose passion - however old - over dispassion? ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

Her breath caught on the thought. Was he saying that a woman would put her hands - her mouth - there?
Her bodice felt suddenly too tight as her breaths became faster. She didn't know where to look: at those long fingers massaging his own leg or his glinting, knowing green eyes.
"And of course," he continued, "a woman can pleasure herself - with her hand - and a man…" His hand drifted up, straight to the top of his widely spread legs. He gripped himself frankly - lewdly - and looked at her.
She lost all sense of propriety. All sense of place and time and who he was and who she was.
She stared back into those sensuous green eyes and whispered, "Show me. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

The earl slowly pivoted to face her, the crunching of his boots in the gravel drive loud in the stillness. They stood only a few feet distant. He took a step, his beautiful, heavy-lidded eyes intent on her face. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

He closed his eyes. "I'm not like you." He laughed under his breath, but it wasn't happy sound. "You grew up in despreation and squalor, and yet you're able to hope and dream. I don't quite how you can, but I love you for it." He opened his black eyes, and she saw in them wonder and pain and vunerability. "You're much more courageous than I am, imp. I've had everything material handed to me on a golden platter, and yet I find it... difficult to hope as you do. Even more difficult, I think, to trust."

"To trust me?" she whispered, feeling hurt.

"No, never," he said fiercely. "To trust myself. To trust in the future, I suppose. To open my hands and let go of the reins of control and simply trust that things -my life, my family, our happiness- will turn out well." He frowned down at her. "Do you understand?"

"No," she said simply, but she smiled to take away the sting of the word. "No, because if you say you love me then I believe everything will turn out well. It simply must. For I love you, too."

He laid his forehead against hers. "I do love you, heart and soul and body, Alf, my imp. I love you now and forever, and I will trust and I will hope in your dreams and hope."

"That's all we need, really," she whispered. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt, Duke Of Pleasure

Ye know as well as I that I lost whatever heart I once had long ago," Mick replied without emotion, a simple statement of fact. "If the babe lives, or if she dies, it makes no difference to me. I'll still eat sweetmeats on the morrow and taste the sugar on me tongue, still f*ck women and feel the pleasure in me bollocks. And, Charlie - mark me well, now - I'll still kill ye and laugh in yer ugly face as I do it. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

You are different." She lifted a hand to delicately trace his hairline.
He closed his eyes, feeling her fingers tremble against his skin.
"For whatever reason," she said softly, "when you are with me, you are
simply Isaac and I am Coral. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

He treasured her, treasured her tears, treasured her love for others. Her heart might even be big enough to fill that empty space in his own chest. Perhaps she could be his heart as well. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

He smiled down at her. Truly. I think a man may find happiness-or discontent- no matter if he has a full belly or not. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

I see a woman who has a deep curiosity. Who wants to feel but is worried- of herself? Of others? I'm not sure. But I think she has a fire banked within her. Maybe it's only embers now, glowing in the dark, but if tinder were to be put to those embers... oh, what a conflagration that would be. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

Behave, Miss Greaves," he murmured under his breath, his voice husky and deep. "Fine words for a man who runs about St. Giles at night in a mask," she whispered. He frowned, glancing around. "Hush. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

She glanced again at Caliban as she said, "You and Daffodil were very brave." "And the best part, Mama," Indio said, tugging her hand to get her attention, "the best part is Caliban spoke. Did you hear him? He shouted my name!" "What?" Lily stared at Indio's filthy little face and then back up at Caliban. She absently noted that he had a bleeding scratch on his cheek. That shout right before the accident - had that been him? ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

After a childhood reading fairy tales and myths, is it any wonder that when I began to write my own stories I included fairy tales? Fairy tales are storytelling at its most basic. They've been with mankind for as long as people have told stories to each other. Fairy tales speak to something intrinsic in humans - they touch our most primitive selves. How else to explain that the Cinderella story is told in nearly every society on earth? To think of fairy tales as merely stories for children is to ignore thousands of years when fairy tales were used to teach morality, to warn, and to entertain both children and adults. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

It was a strange thing, this feeling of empathy. He'd never experienced it before. He realized that what hurt this woman hurt him as well, that what made her bleed caused a hemorrhage of pain within his soul. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

Darling," she said and caught his face between her hands, making him meet her eyes. He didn't want to. He didn't like the look in her eyes - a grim determination. "I love you," she whispered and his soul soared until she uttered her next words. "But I must leave you." "No." He clutched at her hips as if he were a child of three refusing to give up his toy sword. "No." "Yes," she replied. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

The peach gown she'd chosen was the color of the sunrise, the rippling watered silk seeming to subtly change from rose to pink to nearly orange in different lights. She'd fallen in love with it at once. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

Edward shot a glare at Davis that held the promise of dismemberment, mayhem, and the apocalypse. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

She caught his wrist, stilling the hand on her thigh. Her eyes were a
little desperate. "What do you mean to do?"
"I'd like to show you my way of making love," he said gently. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

She heard him close the door. "I was going to impress you with my romantic eloquence, of course. I'd thought to wax philosophical about the beauty of your brow."
Lucy blinked. "My brow?"
"Mmm. Have I told you that your brow intimidates me?" She felt his warmth at her back as he moved behind her, but he didn't touch her. "It's so smooth and white and broad, and ends with your straight, knowing eyebrows, like a statue of Athena pronouncing judgment. If the warrior goddess had a brow like yours, it is no wonder the ancients worshiped and feared her."
"Blather," she murmured.
"Blather, indeed. Blather is all I am, after all."
She frowned and turned to contradict him, but he moved with her so that she couldn't quite catch sight of his face.
"I am the duke of nonsense," he whispered in her ear. "The king of farce, the emperor of emptiness."
Did he really see himself so? "But - "
"Blathering is what I do best," he said, still unseen. "I'd like to blather about your golden eyes and ruby lips."
"Simon - "
"The perfect curve of your cheek," he murmured close.
She gasped as his breath stirred the hair at her neck. He was distracting her with lovemaking. And it was working. "What a lot of talk."
"I do talk too much. It's a weakness you'll have to bear in your husband." His voice was next to her ear. "But I'd have to spend quite a bit of time outlining the shape of your mouth, its
softness and the warmth within.

- ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

She stood, a little unsteadily, true, but on her own two feet. "It's not my blindness that cripples me, it's everyone else deciding I can't live because of my blindness. If I stumble, if I run into things and fall and hurt myself it's because I can and I'm free to do so, Maximus. Because without that freedom I'm just a dull, chained thing and I won't be that woman anymore. I simply won't, Maximus. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

Maximus," she whispered, all moonlight and strength. "I love you. Never forget that. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

I love you," she sobbed, rubbing her hands over his face, his hair, his chest, making sure he was solid and real. "I love you, and I thought you were dead. I couldn't bear it. I thought I would die too."
"I'd walk through fire for you," he rasped, his voice hoarse and broken. "I have walked through fire for you. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

She gasped again and opened blue eyes lit with erotic mischief. "Are you trying to steal the reins from me?"
Even with his penis buried deep within her, even moments from climax, he arched an eyebrow. "You have them only by my permission. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

A garden always has a point. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

My darling Lucy." He panted against her ear, and then his teeth scraped her earlobe. "I love you," he whispered. "Don't ever leave me. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

What," she barked, "is that?" "We have a guest for supper tonight," Miss Stump replied, and as she glanced back at him he thought he saw a mischievous glint in her eye. "Indio's monster, in fact - though Indio now calls him Caliban." "Caliban?" Maude narrowed her eyes, cocking her head as she examined him critically. "Aye, I can see that, but is he safe in the theater with us is what I'm wanting to know?" Apollo felt a tug on his hand. He looked down at Indio, who whispered, "She's nice. Truly. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

Artemis let her head fall back, her eyes closed, her lips suddenly trembling. Apollo dying. "Please. Please, Maximus. I'll refrain from provoking you anymore. I'll stay in the shadows with my stockings and shoes on and never swim in your pond again, never disturb you again, only please do this one thing, I beg you. Save my brother. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

All her life she'd been warned that men were slaves to their desires, that they held their impulses in barely controlled check. A woman
a lady
must be very, very careful of her actions so she did not put spark to the gunpowder that was a man's libido. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

The masculine voice was low but clear, capturing the senses, running along the back of her neck like a caress, making her shiver in delight. Artemis very much feared she was gaping. The Duke of Wakefield had a voice to make angels - or devils - weep. It wasn't the type of male voice currently admired - for the high, unnatural voice of the musico was the rage of London at the moment - but his was the sort of voice that would always seduce the ear. Sure and strong, with a vibrating masculinity on the low notes. She could sit and listen to a voice like this for hours. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

He shoved his hips against her, reminding her of what they had just done, and said, "I had never bedded a woman before you. I made that plain. Did you think I let you seduce me lightly? No, I did not. You made a deal with me the moment you gave me entry into your body."
"I made no such deal!" Her eyes were angry - and frightened - but he would not let her make him back down.
"Precious Isabel," he whispered. "You made a deal with your heart, your soul, and your body, and you sealed it with the wash of your climax on my c*ck."
She blinked, looking dazed. He'd never used such words before, especially not with her, but their bluntness was necessary. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

Maximus turned to the house, thinking. He had no idea how he would do it yet, but he meant to best her. He'd show her that he was the master, and when she'd admitted his victory ... well, then he'd have her. And he'd hold her, by God. His huntress. His goddess. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

If she'd been quizzed as to His Grace's eye color, she would've had to reply simply that they were dark. Which they were. Very dark, nearly black, but not quite. The Duke of Wakefield's eyes were a deep, rich brown, like coffee newly brewed, like walnut wood oiled and polished, like seal fur shining in the light, and even though they were rather lovely to look at, they were as cold as iron in winter. One touch and her very soul might freeze. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

Her gaze dropped to the right side of his mouth, to the corner of his lip that was permanently pulled into a slight snarl by the edge of the angry scar, and then to the other side of his mouth, to the sensuous curve of his lips. She raised her hand, reaching out to touch that perfect curl. She stilled, her hand hovering, as the sunlight glinted off the ruby ring on her finger. It was a pretty little ring, delicate and made for a woman. In any other circumstances she would've worn it with happiness.
Here, though... Well it was almost a mark of possession, wasn't it?
Iris inhaled and jerked her hand back before she made contact. This man might be her 'husband' now- courtesy of a series of terrible events and his own stubbornness, but he was still a stranger.
A stranger she wasn't even sure she could entirely trust. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

He bent to lay his mouth on hers, thrusting his tongue lazily past her lips until she sucked on the thick length. "Are they any different?" he whispered against her mouth, "my kisses? Have they changed so much with my name?" She cracked her eyelids to look at him and murmur into the humid heat between them, "I can't tell. Perhaps you should demonstrate again." He licked at the corner of her mouth. "A scientific study, you mean?" His mouth trailed up her cheek, soft as a moth. "Quite," she breathed. "As you wish. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

Her brows had drawn together over those big eyes, in an expression that no doubt she thought stern, but that was, in reality, rather adorable. Like a small girl chiding a kitten. A streak of anger surged through him. She shouldn't be out by herself in the ruined garden. If he'd been another type of man - a brutal man, like the ones who'd run Bedlam - her dignity, perhaps even her life, might've been in danger. Didn't she have a husband, a brother, a father to keep her safe? Who was letting this slip of a woman wander into danger by herself? ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

You were the one who left for London. You were the one who decided to-to tup another woman. You were the one who turned away from me. From us. Who is the greater sinner? I will no longer - urp! ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

This is my brother we're talking about, Maximus." "You'll take his part before mine?" Oh, he knew it was a mistake even before the words left his lips. Her shoulders squared. "If I must. We shared a womb. We're flesh and blood, tied together forever, both physically and spiritually. I love my brother." "As you don't me?" She stopped, her chemise in her hands before her. For a moment her shoulders slumped and then she raised her head. His goddess. His Diana. "When you've tired of me," she said softly, precisely, "Apollo will still be my brother. Will still be there for me." "I'll never tire of you," he said, knowing with every thread of his soul that he spoke the absolute truth. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

A smile flickered across Coral's face. "Have you ever noticed that once you have had a taste of certain sweets - raspberry trifle is my own despair - it is quite impossible not to think, not to want, not to crave until you have taken another bite?"
"Lord Swartingham is not a raspberry trifle."
"No, more of a dark chocolate mousse, I should think," Coral murmured.
"And," Anna continued as if she hadn't heard the interruption, "I don't need another bite, uh,night of him. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

Tall, dark fellow with a bit of a manner? Witty and knows it? And a devil with the ladies, he thought but did not say aloud to his sister. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

She flew in, all fiery flashing eyes and flushed cheeks, her bosom heaving beneath black wool.
She was magnificent.
"Tell them to let her go!" Séraphine ordered him imperiously. "Tell them to let her go right now."
She stood over him, her lips wet, her body shaking with her rage, and he wanted to take her and roll her beneath him and fuck her into the mattress. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

Goggie!" she exclaimed, holding both hands out urgently to Lad, who'd been dozing by the fire.
"By all means," Michael replied amicably, as if he and Mary were having a conversation. "Let's bring the mutt with us, as well. He's almost presentable now that he stinks o' roses. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

Good." He straddled her, caging her with his body. "Were it up to me, all of London would know what we do here.
-Griffin to Hero. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

I'd take her to the top of the widow's tower at Ainsdale Castle, late at night, and we'd watch the moon rise. The widow's tower was very high but she wasn't afraid. Sometimes I'd steal a pie from the kitchens and we'd picnic up there. I brought up a blanket, too, so she wouldn't have to sit on the bare stone floor."
Mrs. Crumb made an aborted movement, as if she'd meant to turn to face him and then changed her mind.
He let the wineglass dangle by his side. "I told her a rabbit lived on the moon and she believed me. She believed everything I told her then."
"What rabbit?"
"There." He roused himself, straightening.
He drew back, fitting her against his chest and setting his chin on her shoulder. She smelled of tea and housekeeperly things, and she was warm, so warm. He caught up her right hand in his and traced the moon with it. "D'you see? There are the long ears, there the tail, there the forepaws, there the back."
"I see," she whispered.
"I told her the rabbit had lavender fur and ate pink moon clover up there." His mouth twisted, as he remembered. "She'd watch me with big blue eyes, her mouth half-open, a bit of piecrust on her dress. She hung on every word."
He could hear her breath, could feel the tremble of her limbs. Did she fear him?
"D'you believe me?" he asked against her ear, his lips wet with wine. She was a housekeeper and housekeepers didn't matter in the grand schemes of kings and dukes and little girls who wished upo ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

It hardly mattered. She was tired of waiting for him to acknowledge who he was. Tired of donning a false mask of gaiety when she was so much more - felt so much more - beneath. No one had ever noticed her mask. No one but him. If he couldn't or wouldn't make the first move, then damn it, she would. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

Briefly, he tried to imagine any of his previous, male secretaries daring to comment on his appearance. It was impossible. In fact, he couldn't think of anyone, save his current female secretary, who made such impertinent comments to him. Oddly, he found her impertinence endearing. Not that he let it show. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

Winter? She traced a circle on his breastbone, her touch ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

For a moment she studied the sketch. It had been done in pencil and the artist was very skilled. The single sharp line that edged her nose, the delicate shading on her bottom lip, the suggestion of light reflected off her forehead.
In the sketch she lay asleep and peaceful- and beautiful. Iris had never thought of herself as beautiful. That word was for the lauded belles of society. The women who walked into ballrooms and made conversations stop.
But in this sketch she was beautiful.
And in the corner were the initials R.d' C.
This was how he saw her. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

No one could hear them over the carriage wheels, yet somehow it felt right to whisper. His eyes dropped to her gaping bodice. One nipple was reddened and still moist. He averted his eyes, swallowing. His erection, silly thing, didn't know the show was over. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

Lily stopped dead in the doorway to her room and then took a step back. Apollo cocked his head. It'd been a very long day full of trepidation mixed with tediousness and he'd used up all his patience. "If you leave, I'll follow you out and we'll have this discussion in the hallway where everyone can hear." She scowled ferociously at him, but came all the way in the room and shut the door. "What do you want to talk about?" "Us." "There's nothing to discuss." "Yes," he said patiently, "there is. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

She leaned forward, her gaze so intense that Helen wanted to look away. "And I love him more for it. Do you hear me? He was a good man when he went away to the Colonies. He came back an extraordinary man. So many think that bravery is a single act of valor in a field of battle - no forethought, no contemplation of the consequences. An act over in a second or a minute or two at most. What my brother has done, is doing now, is to live with his burden for years. He knows that he will spend the rest of his life with it. And he soldiers on." She sat back in her chair, her gaze still locked with Helen's. "That to my mind is what real bravery is."
-Sophia to Helen about Alistair. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

But like the legless man, I'm unaccountably fascinated by those who can dance. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

Oh," said her husband, sounding deeply pleased at something he'd read in his letter.
"What?" Bridget sat up, inadvertently spilling several drops of honey on her breast.
Sadly, she succumbed to her husband's fondness for nudity soon after their marriage.
Valentine glanced up, but his gaze was immediately drawn to the honey slowly dripping down her breast.
"Val..." Bridget moved to scoop the honey up with her finger.
His hand darted out, catching hers.
"Oh, don't," he breathed, leaning over her, forcing her flat on her back.
He bent, closing his azure eyes, and licked her breast almost reverently.
She shuddered.
"It's the middle of the day," she whispered.
His eyes opened, wicked and amused. "I know. Your favorite."
She smiled up at him, threading her fingers through his golden hair. "I love you."
"And I love you," he murmured against her lips, before taking her mouth hard and possessively.
Their letters fell to the floor, abandoned, but Bridget didn't care at all.
She was with her true love and the world outside could wait. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

I am a whore," she said. "And in addition to that, I am not a nice woman. But despite these facts, my word is gold. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

His nostrils flared just a little bit, and the lines bracketing his mouth grew deeper. He snarled with his beautiful, twisted lips and she thought, half on the edge of falling again, she thought he looked like a demon making love to her. A demon fighting for his life or light or possibly redemption. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

He was a being of action and vitality, and when he moved, when he smiled, he became almost impossible to resist. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

She swallowed and looked down at the artichoke petals piled neatly on the side of her plate. Her center certainly felt like it was melting, growing soft and wet just from the rasp of Mr. O'Connor's voice. Why should a man already devilishly handsome also have a voice that could charm birds from the sky? It simply wasn't fair. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

His eyes were dark, dangerous, and not at all cold. He burned with an internal inferno she wanted to touch. She stared into the gaze of a tiger and knew, even as she watched the cat retreat into the camouflage of a gentleman: The Duke of Wakefield was the Ghost of St. Giles. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

So it was understandable that Lily didn't at first notice the very large man in her bed when she entered the room assigned to her. When she did, she stopped dead and hissed, "You can't be in here!" The covers were pulled to his waist, but he appeared to be quite naked underneath. "Why not?" Apollo asked, apparently having forgotten all the social niceties that someone must've taught him as a small child. "Because this is your sister's house." He cocked his head. "Actually it's His Grace the Ass's house, but I do see your meaning. You know she's a floor above us? ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

I need you." He licked her bruised lip to soothe it. "I can't think straight without you. My world is all turned around, and I go through it in pain, wanting to hurt someone. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

When you've tired of me," she said softly, precisely, "Apollo will still be my brother. Will still be there for me."
"I'll never tire of you," he said, knowing with every thread of his soul that he spoke the absolute truth.
"Then prove it."
He knew what she asked with such an open and vulnerable face. Something within him shriveled and died ... he'd been on the rack too long for a penance he wasn't sure he could ever entirely pay.
"You know ... " His voice was hoarse, the croaking of a dying man. He licked his lips. "You know why I cannot. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

She swallowed and licked her lips. "It's rather good."
He laughed breathlessly. Have care, part of his brain whispered. This way only leads to pain. But his c*ck was pressing hard against the placket of his breeches and he wanted to take her hand and draw her away to his rooms and keep her there until she learned to scream in pleasure.
Until she screamed his name and no other. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

Do you remember that I said I have something to show you?"
Back when they were entering the house. Before she'd seen Hugh. Before their argument. "Yes?"
He pushed open the door to her bedroom. "Look."
She went inside and saw Valente sitting on the floor in front of her fireplace with a basket. He had a silly grin on his face.
She glanced over her shoulder to Raphael. "What-?"
Her husband tilted his chin toward Valente and the basket. "Go and see."
At the same time she heard an animal whimper.
Her lips parted and she picked up her skirts to hurry to the basket. It was lined with a soft blanket and inside was the sweetest little blond puppy, looking very sorry for itself.
Iris stared, torn. Did Raphael think a 'puppy' would be an adequate substitution for him?
The moment the puppy saw her it began whimpering and yipping, trying to climb from its wicker prison, but its legs were too short to make the attempt and it ended by falling backward, revealing that it was female.
It was hardly the puppy's fault that she was angry with Raphael.
"Oh," Iris breathed, sinking to her knees on the carpet opposite Valente. "She's perfect."
Somehow the words made tears start in her eyes again.
She picked up the puppy, which wriggled in Iris's hands until she held the small animal against her chest. The puppy promptly began licking Iris's chin with a tiny pink tongue.
Iris looked up at Raphael through her tears. "What is her ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

Show me the other horses, Captain Trevillion?" "Certainly." He limped forward to offer her his arm. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

He smiled slowly, as if particularly pleased with her question, and she couldn't help smiling in return. He reached around her, his arms nearly embracing her, and wrote in the notebook on her lap, Very good. Yes, the root ball should be quite big, even so. "Should be?" His breath was warm against her ear. I confess. I've never attempted to transplant a fully grown tree. I shall do so, however, this afternoon. Would you like to watch? If someone had asked her a fortnight ago if she'd like to watch a tree being planted, she would've looked at the questioner quite pityingly. But right now, this moment, she was rather excited at the prospect. Perhaps too many viewings of Caliban's nude chest had addled her brain. In any case she gazed into his thickly lashed brown eyes and smiled brilliantly. "Yes, please." His grin was quick and all-encompassing and, she couldn't help but think, solely for her. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

She watched his chest rise and fall and remembered and reflected. All her life things had been taken from her: Apollo, Thomas's affection, Mama and Papa, her home, her future. No one had ever asked her opinion, garnered her thoughts on what she wanted or needed. Things had been done to her, but she'd never had the chance to do things. Like a doll on a shelf, she'd been moved about, manipulated, flung aside. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

Excuse me, but I believe you have my lady, one of them said in a quiet, deep voice that sent veritable chills down George's spine.
Harry. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

It might've been my fichu.
-Patricia to Lucy about her engagement to vicar Penweeble. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

The lengths to which you're prepared to go to please a housekeeper make me wonder about the servant situation in Scotland. Good help must be thin on the ground." Vale widened his eyes and took a drink.
"She's more to me than a housekeeper," Alistair growled.
"Wonderful!" Vale slapped him on the back. "And about time, too. I was beginning to worry that all your important bits might've atrophied and fallen off from disuse."
He felt unaccustomed heat climb his throat. "Vale ... ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

Do you think they'll target her as well
as you? Surely if you simply stay away from the gel, she'll be safe?"
"But I don't propose to stay away from her," Reynaud said.
"Ah." Vale stared at him for a moment, and then a wide smile spread across his face.
"Like that, is it?"
"That," Reynaud snarled, "is none of your business."
"Indeed?" Vale was grinning like an idiot now. "Well, well, well."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"I have no idea. I just like saying it. Well, well, well. Makes one sound uncommonly
insightful. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

He had no money or influence here. The clothes on his back were ragged, his moccasins were worn, and he was skeletally thin from lack of food and walking. But he would sail on a ship bound for England even if he had to scrub the decks to pay his way.

He was Reynaud St. Aubyn, the Viscount of Hope, and by God or the devil, he was going home. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

He'd forgotten, in those long years in Bedlam, through fear and grief and pain, what it was like to simply be with a pretty woman. To tease and flirt and yes, perhaps steal a kiss. He didn't know how she felt about that kiss - or if she'd let him kiss her again, but he was certainly going to try. He had lost time to make up - much of life itself to live. He'd spent four years in limbo, simply existing, while others found lovers and friends, even started families. He wanted to live again. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

He was like a young tiger, all muscle and passion, and she wanted to ride him
not to tame the beast, but to feel for a small moment all of his vitality. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

They were already out of her lands, and in another day Yorkshire would be behind them altogether. By the end of the week she'd be in London, resuming her life as if this trip had never happened. Three or four months from now, Harry, acting as her land steward, might write to ask if she wanted him to present his report on her lands in person. And she, having just returned from another soiree, might turn the letter over in her hand and muse, Harry Pye. Why, I once lay in his arms. I looked up into his illuminated face as he joined his flesh with mine, and I was alive. She might toss the letter on her desk and think, But that was so long ago now and in a different place. Perhaps it was only a dream.
She might think that.
George closed her eyes. Somehow she knew that there would never come a day when Harry Pye was not her first memory when she woke and her last thought as she drifted into sleep. She would remember him all the days of her life.
Remember and regret. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

He inhaled and spoke without thinking, ignoring their audience. "What has happened?" "You know full well, Your Grace, for what - who - I fight." Her eyes were glittering and he couldn't believe it, but the evidence was clear. Tears. His goddess should never weep. He took her arm. "Artemis. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

I'm leaving." Her cold lips barely moved as she mouthed the words.
Horror fisted around his vitals. "No."
For the first time she met his eyes. Hers were red-rimmed but dry. "I have to leave,
Simon."
"No." He was a little boy denied a sweet. He felt like falling down and screaming.
"Let me go."
"I can't let you go." He half laughed here in the too-bright, cold London sun before his own
house. "I'll die if I do."
She closed her eyes. "No, you won't. I can't stay and watch you tear yourself apart."
"Lucy."
"Let me go, Simon. Please." She opened her eyes, and he saw infinite pain in her gaze.
Had he done this to his angel? Oh, God. He unclasped his hands. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

He thought he saw her smile waver when she read it, then she was hugging him tightly. "You're the one who needs to take care of yourself. Your escape is still all the news. They'll be searching for you." She drew back to look at him, and to his consternation he saw that she had tears in her eyes. "I couldn't bear to lose you again." He bent and kissed her forehead. Even if he could speak there was nothing he could say to comfort her. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

There are no heroes on the battlefield, my lady; there are only survivors. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

Diana," he murmured in her ear, licking. "Diana, you are everything I've ever wanted and shall never have."
Tears pricked at her eyes and she opened her mouth to sob.
"That's it," he said. "Weep for me. Bear my pain. Take my come. For I can give you nothing else. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

And then he saw her burning eyes. They gazed at him calmly and he saw in them benediction.
He fell to his knees before her, pressing his face to her purple-velvet-clad-belly. "Séraphine, Séraphine, Séraphine. O most beloved of women, most fiery of saints, never leave me, please. I'll erect columns of white marble to you, build gardens of delight for you, cause ships to sail and warriors to rise for you, if you'll only remain by my side."
She smiled down at him and cupped his cheeks. "Valentine, do you love me?"
Ah, God, it was like a shot to the gut.
He squeezed tight his eyes. To come so close and lose her because of this. "If I were able I would love you as no man has ever loved a woman since the beginning of time."
She knelt then to face him and whispered, "But you are able."
He clutched her. He wouldn't let her go, no, not even when she realized... "Séraphine, my darling, burning one, do you not remember? I told you, so long ago now, that I lacked that part. I cannot-"
"But you can, Valentine." She touched a finger to his cheek and then showed it to him.
He blinked.
Her finger was wet. His eyes were wet.
She smiled at him, his burning Séraphine, and it was as if the night sky were ablaze. "You love me."
"I love you," he said in wonder, and felt his chest fill with warmth. "I love you."
"And I love you," she whispered, her hands cupping his face.
So he kissed her until she was limp and pliable and so very hot ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

Maude was still scowling. "What's wrong with him? Can't he talk?" "No, he can't," Indio said simply, saving Apollo from having to do his dumb show. "Oh." Maude blinked, obviously taken aback. "Has he had his tongue cut out?" "Maude!" Miss Stump cried. "What a horrible thought. He has a tongue." Her brows knit as if from sudden doubt and she peered worriedly at Apollo. "Don't you?" He didn't even bother resisting the urge. He stuck out his tongue at her. Indio laughed and Daffodil began barking again - obviously her first reaction to nearly everything. Miss Stump stared at Apollo for a long second and he was aware that his body was heating. Carefully he withdrew his tongue and snapped his mouth shut, giving her his most uncomprehending face. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

Sir?"
"Yes"
"Where do you go at night?"
Winter paused and glanced over his shoulder. Joseph was watching him with perceptive eyes for one so young.
In that instant, Winter grew tired of lies. "I right wrongs."
He expect more questions
Joseph was usually full of them and his answer was too obscure
but the boy merely nodded. "Will you teach me how sometime?"
Winter's eyes widened. Teach him to ... ? His mind instantly balked at the thought of putting Joseph in danger. But were he ever to ask for an apprentice to his Ghost, he knew instinctively that he could find no one with more courage than the lad. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

He studied her upturned face for a minute. "Please forgive me. I don't want you to hope. If there were any way - " "I know." She got to her feet. "I even understand." She walked briskly to the door. "I came down to get something for Rebecca. She must be wondering what happened to me. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

If I'm good enough to bed, surely I'm good enough to wed. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

Have you asked the question yet? I'm rather good at it, if I do say to myself. I got three different ladies to agree to marry me while you were gone. Did you know? Some didn't actually make it to the alter, but that's another problem altogether. Perhaps you'd like some pointers on- ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

He pulled back, staring at her in the dim carriage, his brows still knit. "Megs?"
Oh, right. She still hadn't told him. Well, it was his own fault; his mouth was simply delicious.
"I love you," she said, speaking clearly so that there might be no confusion. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

Shhh," he murmured against her mouth. "Don't talk. Don't think. Just feel. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt