Archive for the ‘My Favourite Quotes’ Category

Devil in Spring

“Dangerous creatures, wallflowers. Approach them with the utmost caution. They sit quietly in corners, appearing abandoned and forlorn, when in truth they’re sirens who lure men to their downfall. You won’t even notice the moment she steals the heart right out of your body –and then it’s hers for good. A wallflower never gives your heart back.”

(Sebastian, Duke of Kingston, to his son, Gabriel, Lord St. Vincent)

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Scandalous Desires

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.

(Charming Mickey O’Connor and Silence Makepeace)

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“Before I found Minerva, I’d passed nights with more than my share of women.”

Thorne groaned. Don’t. Just don’t.

“I’ve passed time with duchesses and farm girls, and it doesn’t matter whether their skirts are silk or homespun. Once you get them bare–“

Thorne drew up short. “If you start in on rivers of silk and alabaster orbs, I will have to hit you.”

(Colin Sandhurst and Corporal Samuel Thorne)

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“Over the years I’ve collected a thousand memories of you, every glimpse, every word you’ve ever said to me. All those visits to your family’s home, those dinners and holidays—I could hardly wait to walk through the front door and see you.” The corners of his mouth quirked with reminiscent amusement. “You, in the middle of that brash, bull-headed lot…I love watching you deal with your family. You’ve always been everything I thought a woman should be. And I have wanted you every second of my life since we first met.” 

(Matthew Swift to Daisy Bowman)

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“I-I’m not making advances,” she told him as she flattened herself against his chest. “You’re just an available s-source of heat.”

“So you say,” St. Vincent replied lazily, tucking the quilt more tightly around them both.

“However, during the past quarter hour you’ve been fondling parts of my anatomy that no one’s ever dared to touch before.”

“I v-very much doubt that.” She burrowed even further into the depths of his coat, and added in a muffled voice, “You’ve probably been h-handled more than a hamper at Fortnum and Mason.”

(Evie and Sebastian)

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“You will always be my love. I fought an army of dragons to win my beautiful lady. I intend to spend the next fifty years enjoying the spoils of victory.”

(Elias Thorne, Baron Wilmot to Lady Marianne Seaton)

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“Here’s what I think. You’ve been reading too many of those knights-and-ladies stories in the Gentleman’s Review. People have lived and loved and died everywhere. And for every crusading knight who won a tournament for his lady in this castle, I promise you— there were a hundred men who spent a solid decade scratching themselves and having pissing contests from the ramparts.”

(Rafe Brandon to Clio Whitmore)

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“I was ripe ten years ago. Now I’m merely preserved, and before long I’ll be buried back in the orchard with the other pits.”

(Amanda Briars to Jack Devlin)

“It has to be now,” he insisted, a flick of amusement in his voice. He nudged his burgeoning loins against her. “After all, you can’t allow me to go around like this all day.”

“From what I’ve learned so far, this is your natural condition,” came her pert reply.

(Amanda Briars and Jack Devlin)

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I underestimated the power of love. The love of a mother for a child she did not give birth to. The love of a father for a son who was not his own. The love of brothers for one who did not carry their blood. The love of a sister for a brother who was not born into the family.

The love of a wife for a husband she chose. The love of a woman for a man who appreciated her strengths and her weaknesses. The love of Phee, the center of my most precious memories, the heart of my life. The true dragon who slayed my demons as I slayed hers.

(From the journal of Drake Darling)

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She wanted to pick him up and dunk him, headfirst, in English upper-class manners and vocabulary and sounds. While he sat there, his mind heavily entrenched in his own ways; rough, uncouth, unmovable.

Oh, he liked her like this: waltzing in the byways of one of life’s finer moments, in one of its little contentments.


…hell, if a man’s hot thoughts and stares counted for anything, her skirts should’ve bloody well been on fire by now.


She could send other little boats out upon the sea of English high society. She could teach them to sail, to skim along the water with style and grace. While her own sails only luffed in the wind.


“And perhaps I might mention”—he mocked himself—“it ain’t a widge, loov. Not now.” When she knit her brow, he explained, “It’s a widge when it’s quiet. Or when it’s nosing around just a bit. At some point, though, Win, it becomes a cock: mine especially.”



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