Historical Romance Quotes - Page 8

He didn't see the look his brothers shared or overhear the vow they made to one another--that if any one of the four of them were to make it back from Ticonderoga, it would be Iain.

I'm not broken,' he repeated. 'Although at the moment . . . ' This was what came of violating the sentimentality quota. Everything he kept bottled inside him came out. He shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. 'At the moment,' he muttered numbly, 'I may be coming a bit unraveled.

Are you quite certain you won't mind having a virgin on your hands?" Not that she imagined she would remain that way for much longer. The penis pressing against her seemed to say that her time as a virgin was down to mere minutes.

It was if the devil himself had devised the perfect earthly torture for Lady Alicia Lawrence. “Now how will I occupy myself when I get to hell?

You’re far too prickly tempered to be a mistress. You’re far better suited as a wife.

There was no denying it; his wicked words thrilled her. Like a feather slowly brushing over her bare skin, they teased and tantalized, awakening every inch of her body.

It was awful, this love.

Yet, the quest for knowledge will overcome us and we must know. And, at last, we must see where the road ends, even if it be the cliff.

She laughed, and the duke might actually have smiled, though one could never be certain.

Even the most egregious captive state, bound and gagged on her damp bunk, felt eerily familiar to her. With nothing to do but lie there and think of things, she reflected that captivity took many different forms. A woman under the domination of her father or husband was as much a prisoner as a hostage on a boat. She had merely traded one form of servitude for another.

I wondered what he would have thought if he'd known that I'd gleaned most of my information from reading historical romance novels.

All of them. Fated to love in vain.

Love will find a way against time itself.

I particularly want you to meet Miss Bucholtz.” The very idea made him uneasy. “Why is that,Ma’am?” he bluntly asked. Mrs. Morgan hesitated. “Keep this under your hat, mind you.” “Yes, Ma’am.” She let out a tired sigh. “I’ve brought Miss Bucholtz to replace Mr. Gabellini.” Howie pictured a dried up old spinster with the same commanding presence as Mrs. Morgan, a real battle-axe. “Fireworks are coming. Are you sure a woman is the right, uh, person for the job?” “Bertha Bucholz is one of the best cooks I know. I guarantee by this time next month, you men will all be sporting five extra pounds.

Marcus stood at the mantel mirror, fussing with his lace cuffs, adjusting his cravat and openly admiring his reflection. “I’ll beguile her with the full power of my persuasive charm.”“And should that fail?”Marcus turned to his secretary with a slow, devious grin. “Why, Nick, I’d have thought it obvious. I’ll just have to ruin her.”-A BREACH OF PROMISE

God, you’re beautiful,” he growled while his cock throbbed with need.t“Ye keep telling me that and ye’ll have me believing it,” she said with the sexiest, most breathless voice he’d ever heard.tHis fingers sank into her supple flesh. Her breasts were so full, so pliable, he craved to have his mouth on them, craved to suckle her nipples and listen to every soft moan. “You’d best believe me, because whenever you’re near, I feel like a caveman.”t“A wild beast?”tHe nearly roared. “The wildest imaginable.

Miss Edmonton: I don't even know where to start. It's too horrifying to even speak of.Jenny: Nonsense. Let's start with the basics. What did your aunt tell you?Miss Edmonton: My aunt said that my husband will come into my room and pull my skirt up. And then he'll put himself inside of me. She said it hurts. She suggested I hold my tongue and pretend I am somewhere else until he is done.Jenny: Yes. I should think it would hurt if you did it that way. Good heavens.

I pronounce ye married, laird and lady. No’ ’til death will ye part. And now, Toran,” he added with a wink, “ye may kiss the bride.

You should not have kissed me," she replied breathlessly."I do a lot of things I shouldn't. It does not mean I won't do them again.

I only hope I may not be ruined,” she was saying miserably. “I should be obliged to marry you after all, and then I’d likely murder you before the wedding breakfast was over.

You took Theo's title and his home," West continued in appalled disbelief, "and now you want his wife.""His widow," Devon muttered."Have you seduced her?""Not yet."West clapped his hand to his forehead. "Christ. Don't you think she's suffered enough?

Cleverness is like rouge - liberal application makes a woman look common and desperate. Wit is knowing how to apply it.

There is no shame in being illiterate. One need only feel ashamed when one denies the opportunity to learn.

Do you plan on marrying Charles?”She shook her head.“Good. I wouldn’t want to shoot him, but I would."... Finding Promise

A witty vicar once said that a good marriage is like a pair of scissors with the couple inseparable joined, often moving in opposite directions, yet always destroying anyone who comes between them. The trick is for the blades to learn to work smoothly together, so as not to cut each other.

A cloud of white death veiled in black…

Insufferable man! But I grinned all the way back upstairs.

A good man would tell you to stop writing. A good man would say to you, “No, love, don’t wait for me. Live your life.” A good man would be happy that you were off somewhere in the world doing all the things you deserve. But, Miss Ada, I am no good man. I am, in fact, selfish, very bleeding selfish when it comes to you. Good man or no, I will tell you I believe a life lived without love is one not worthy of living a’tall.

No m’lord. It wouldn’t be a secret army if we had seen it. My squire, who has not had the opportunity to be clearly informed about the presence of a secret army, has been ignorant of its existence.

I’m not God, and I can’t always offer chances. I’m not sure if this won’t be your last.

The arrogant man probably thought his path to heaven was already assured, and that he acted in accordance to God’s will just by breathing.

Look. Isn't he beautiful?"Drew's expression softened. "Ah, Nellie. He's bald, pink, and has no teeth. What's so beautiful about that?"Nellie's laugh tinkled out like musical chimes while she covered the babe back up.

So you wish me to forget that you are a sheikh and a prince and a crown prince and soon to be King? That is a lot to forget.

Before her, with sharp blue eyes and perfectly coiffed blond hair, was Josephine Marie Elizabeth Cavendish, Her Grace, the Duchess of Durham, widow of the fifth duke, and aunt to the Cavendish siblings.One did not call her Josie. Amelia had asked.

She is a jewel far richer than a mountain of coin could bring!

I steal from the rich to give to myself.

How were we so lucky? Two people lost in a world only to find solace and companionship in someone just as fractured as they are. I think destiny has played a hand in our union.

She laced her arms around his neck. "Are you hungry, Azhar?"tHis smile made her blood fizz. "Ravenous, Julia."t"Then please, abandon any attempt at controlling your appetite for me," she whispered into his ear, "Because I too am starving.

She clambered to the shoreline. Numb and shaken, she began to dress. It wasn’t easy as she fumbled with slick fingers to put dry clothes over wet skin. She instantly regretted her naked swim. She pulled on her long-sleeved white chemise first.tShe faced the forest, away from her rescuer. He quietly splashed to shore. His lifeblood burned into her back. He wasn’t far behind, but he stopped. She refused to look at him until she was fully clothed, not out of embarrassment of her nudity, but for what had just happened. He released a groan and mumbled under his breath about wet boots. His voice was not one of her father’s soldiers.tWhen she put the last garment on, her brown wool work kirtle, she squeezed out her sopping hair and swept her hands through the knotty mess. She fastened her belt and tied the lacings up the front of the kirtle. Blood returned to her fingertips, and she regained her composure. Belated awareness struck her, and she leaned down and searched through her bag for her dagger. She spun around.tShe gasped as she saw the man sitting on the stone-covered shoreline, his wet boots off. Confusion and the hint of a scowl filled his strong-featured face. She staggered back, caught her heel on a stone, and fell, dropping the dagger. Dirt and pebbles stuck to her wet hands and feet, and she instinctively scrambled away from him.tHis glower, iridescent dark blue eyes, and disheveled black hair were not unfamiliar. Staring at her was the man she had seen in her dream – it was the man from the wood.

And if you ever - and I do mean ever - try to leave me, I’m goin’ with you.

I point out. It was the most foolish, jape-fisted bit of buffoonery I have ever seen, and I am impressed in spite of that.

In a heartbeat, he scarcely could take a breath.tWearing not a stitch of clothing, Eva stood in thigh-deep water with her back to him.tBefore he blinked, his gaze slid from coppery tresses brushing feminine shoulders to a tiny waist which fanned into glorious heart-shaped buttocks. Heaven's stars, her flawless skin had to be as pure white as fresh cream.tGod on the cross, save me.tChrist, he was only a flesh and blood man. Who on earth could resist such a temptation? He clenched his teeth and growled. Frigid water or nay, he lengthened like a stallion catching scent of a filly in heat. God's teeth, even his ballocks turned to balls of tight molten steel.

I should never have expected loyalty from a Douglas,” he spat out. He turned his back on her and went to the window.

I will always find you. You are in my soul.

He remounted. “I will ride with you.” With some effort, he gentled his voice. “If that would be agreeable to you.” “How kind of you. Thank you.

Where are we going?” Annabelle asked, resisting his hold on her wrist.“To the house. If they’re not willing to be witnesses, then it seems I’ll have to debauch you in front of someone else.

My mum always taught that the truth will set you free.”t“Did she now?”t“Mm hmm,” Lachlan brushed the pad of his pointer finger over her cheek’s silken skin. “But she kept one truth hidden from me until very recently.”t“What was that?”tHe gulped. “You know the truth thing on the medallion?t“Aye.”t“Well, if that’s my rallying cry, then it will mean the world to me if you trust that I’m not lying.”tShe let the disk drop back to his chest. “Ye can tell me anything, I’d reckon.”tHe needed to tell her the truth. “My father is – was William Wallace.

He covered her mouth with his ---and she felt as if she had suddenly been enveloped in a cascade of sparks. The tingling warmth from his touch did not compare to the sensations that whirled through her as his lips moved over hers. It was as if every part of her body had at once become brilliantly alive.His beard was a startling, silky roughness against her skin. His other hand came to rest at her waist, drawing her in tight, and her body seemed to meld to his hard, lean lines, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Her thoughts scattered. A sound escaped her, soft and deep, unlike any sound she had ever made in her life.Then his tongue touched her lower lip and she gave a startled little squeak.Her suddenly lifted his mouth from hers, his eyes midnight blue, his voice husky. "You have never even been kissed before, leannan. You are as innocent as the day you first set foot in the convent.

I supposed you've already kissed him? Don't deny it, that guilty look is a complete giveaway. Did you like it?"t"Felicity!"t"Well?"t"Yes." Ainsley laughed. "Yes, I did."t"Was it a good kiss? The kind of kiss to give you confidence that your Mr. Drummond would know what he was doing? The kind of kiss that made you want him to do more than kiss you?

He nodded. A curt movement of his head, and she was, for no reason at all, convinced that the man before her was not in dislike of her but simply a man who did not have words come easily to him because he’d grown up alone. She thought of him as a boy. Lonely here, with no father and no mother to hold him, only the servants for company, and Killhope as an unceasing reminder of the centuries of duty and responsibility that were his. Her heart twisted up.

I love you," she murmured. The words ... it was as though an entire sun had exploded in his chest.He'd been ridiculous. His thrashing thoughts, his grand confusion and torment and helplessness -- it was only love, had always been love, he supposed. It was no precipice he stood at, or rather precipices have little meaning when one finally acknowledges that one has wings. Connor stepped off."I love you, too."Such grave, inadequate words for what it was he felt.

Sleep well in my arms tonight, love, but know that we must come to an understanding of sorts--for I be a full-blooded male as this fire in my loins doth remind me--and unfortunately, not the saint ye so obviously would have me!

It doesna matter the direction necessity forces ye to take in life, it matters which way ye go when ye have a choice.

Gideon could not imagine any other young unmarried woman of his acquaintance passing up the opportunity to snare, if not himself, then the Carradice fortune. In any case, the number of women who’d rejected him in any way was gratifyingly small. Yet Miss Prudence Merridew had most unmistakably rejected him. Several times. Wielding that damned lethal reticule like a little Amazon, to emphasize her point.

You’re a pirate?” Obviously. Still, hard to believe. He pressed forward, forcing on her a series of blows meant to test her strength and will.She parried and blocked his every move with an aptitude that amazed. “Aye. A pirate, and captain of the Sea Sprite,” she boasted, a wry smile upon her full lips.Indeed, she appeared very much a pirate in her men’s garb—a threadbare, brown suit with overly long sleeves she’d had to roll up. Her ebony hair had been pulled back in a queue and was half hidden beneath a rumpled tricorn. Also, like her men, was her look of desperation and the grim cast to her countenance that bespoke of a hard existence.“We offered you quarter,” she said as she evaded his thrust with ease. “Why didn’t you surrender? You had to know we outnumbered you.”He didn’t answer. In all honesty, he’d thought they could defeat the pirates, if not with cannon fire, then with skill. After hearing of all the pirate attacks of late, they’d hired on additional hands, men who could fight. If it hadn’t been for the damn illness…“It’s not too late. You can save what’s left of your crew. Surrender now, Captain Glanville, and we’ll see that your men are ransomed back.” A wicked gleam brightened her eyes as if victory would soon be hers. He should do as she asked. It would be the sensible thing, but pride kept him from saying the words. Not yet. He still had another opponent to defeat, and so far she hadn’t been an easy one to overcome. Despite his steady attack, she kept her muscles relaxed, her balance sure. Her attention followed his movements no matter how small, adjusting her stance, looking for weaknesses. “How do you know I’m Captain Glanville?” When work was at hand, he didn’t dress any differently than his men.“I know much about you.” Stepping clear of two men battling to their left, she blocked his sword with her own and lunged with her dagger. He jumped from the blade, avoiding injury by the barest inch. This one relied on speed and accuracy rather than power. Smart woman.“What do you want from us?” he asked, launching an attack of his own, this time with so much force and speed, she had no choice but to retreat until her back came up against the railing. “We only just left London four days ago. Our cargo is mainly iron and ale.”Her gaze sharpened even as her expression became strained. His assault was wearing her down. “I want the Ruby Cross.”How the hell did she know he had the cross? And did she believe he’d simply hand it over? Hand over a priceless antiquity of the Knights Templar? Absurd. He swung his sword all the harder. The clang of steel rang through the air. Her reactions slowed, and her arms trembled. He made a final cut, putting all his strength behind the blow, and knocked her sword from her hand. Triumph surged through his veins. She attempted to slash out with her dagger. He grabbed her arm before her blade could reach him and hauled her close, their faces nose to nose. “You’ll never take the cross from me,” he vowed as he towered over her, his grip strong.The point of a sword touched his back. Thomas tensed, he swore beneath his breath, self-disgust heavy in his chest. The distraction of this one woman had sealed his fate.Bloody hell.

If you have always suspected your sister of an inclination to madness, it will be my pleasure to confirm your worst fears.

A sudden yearning to hold Artagan close overtakes me, to smell the scent of his skin and run my hands through his tousled black hair. He will soon ride into peril again as he has many times before. No matter how often he rides away, I never get used to it.

Where is your Revolutionary spirit?""Beheaded," Celeste said.

Sometimes time can play tricks. One moment it idles by, an hour can seem a lifetime, such as when sitting by the river at dusk watching the bats snatching insects above the limpid waters; the breaching fish causing ringed ripples and a satisfying plop. Other times, time flashes by in an immodest fashion. So it is with the start of war. First time quivers with the last strum of a wonderful peace, the note holding in the air, mysterious and haunting, filling the listener with awe. Then, with a rising crescendo the terror starts with uncouth haste; with a boom the listener is shaken from their reverie and delivered into the servitude, of an ear-shattering cacophony.

Yes, she had seen Alex's temper flare over his disappointment with a lack of his own regiment to command, but she saw that as merely the fighting spirit of an ambitious and confident leader. Yet, wasn't that what appealed most to her about him? A spirit and impetuousness that could match her own and challenge her to be better herself in this new democracy? A man who could honor her own values?