Quotes by Elizabeth Hoyt

At her gesture Michael cursed and caught her hand, falling suddenly atop her.She stared up at him wondering what bedchamber faux pas she’d committed.He groaned at her look. “I’ll let ye pet and play all ye want—after. Now I need”—he pushed her chemise to her waist, parted her thighs, and settled between them—“to be inside ye.

Silence rose and crossed to the connecting door and knocked.The door was opened almost at once.Michael leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb, a wicked smile playing about his sensuous lips. He was so very big this close—every time it surprised her and made her breathless. “Well, now, and when did ye decide to start knockin’ at me door?”Silence fought to keep her face from flaming as she remembered the last time she’d peeked through Michael’s door.She swallowed. “We’re bored.”“Is that so?” Michael glanced down.Silence followed his gaze and saw that Mary had crawled over to investigate. The baby grabbed a handful of her skirt and stood up. She kept one hand on Silence’s skirt and popped two fingers from the other into her mouth as she stared solemnly at Michael.“She looks a rare treat,” Michael said softly, watching the toddler.Silence smiled down at Mary. “She does indeed.”She glanced up and her heart squeezed at the gentle look on Michael’s face.As if she understood she was the subject of conversation, Mary lifted her arms—to Michael. “Up!”Michael arched an eyebrow. “Mouthy little thing, ain’t she?”But he bent and lifted the toddler.

Silence cleared her throat, fearful her voice would come out a croak. “Is she asleep?”He blinked as if he, too, were waking from a dream, and glanced down at Mary Darling. “Aye, I’m a-thinkin’ she is—she’s stopped fussin’ at me.”Silence felt a huge smile of relief spread over her face. “She was fussing? Oh, how wonderful!”He shot her a look, one eyebrow arching. “Ye’ve taught the child to bully me, too, now?”“Oh, no,” she said hastily, embarrassed. Did he really think she bullied him? What a silly notion!

Will ye be wantin’ this now, madam?”“Yes, please,” she whispered. She wanted to engrave the sight of him thus, about to make love to her, in her mind.

As I said, I don’t expect you to understand—”“And I don’t,” he cut in. “Ye ask how I can live a life that I know will end with the hangman’s noose. Well, at least I am alive. Ye might as well have climbed inside yer husband’s coffin and let yerself be buried with his corpse.”Her hand flashed out before she’d thought about it, the smack against his cheek loud in the little courtyard.Silence had her eyes locked with Michael’s, her chest rising and falling swiftly, but she was aware that Bert and Harry had looked up. Even Mary and Lad had paused in their play.Without taking his gaze from hers, Michael reached out and grasped her hand. He raised her hand to his lips and softly kissed the center of her palm.He looked at her, her hand still at his lips. “Don’t take to yer grave afore yer time, Silence, m’love.

I must be getting back to my rooms,” Silence said and stood.Mick frowned with displeasure. “Why?”“Because of Mary Darling.”He shrugged. “One o’ the maids is watchin’ her.”“But if Mary wakes she’ll want me.”“Why?” he asked again, biting into a sweetmeat. This discussion wasn’t to his fancy, but sparring with her was.“Because,” she said slowly, looking at him as if he were lack-witted, “she’s only a baby and she loves me.”“Babies,” Mick pronounced, “are a great trouble.”She shook her head, not bothering to reply this time, and started marching to the door.

He sat and looked at her. “How is Mary Darling?”“Fast asleep after playing and having a bath,” she said. “The nursery is lovely.”“I’m glad you like it.”“Rose and Annie are obviously practiced nursemaids, and what is even better, they seem to like Mary, and she them.”He grunted. “It would take a hard heart to turn away from my Mary Darling.”A smile curved the corners of her lips. “You didn’t seem too enamored of her when you first met.”“She has a forceful personality, as do I. We just took a bit to get to know one another.

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.

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.

But Sir Alistair’s gaze was different. Those other men had looked at her with lust or speculation or crass curiosity, but they hadn’t been looking at her really. They’d been looking at what she represented to them: physical love or a valuable prize or an object to be gawked at. When Sir Alistair stared at her, well, he was looking at her.

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.

Theres something about her, Caire said in a low voice. She cares for everyone about her, yet neglects herself. I want to be the one who cares for her.

It was a strange thing, this feeling of empathy. Hed 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.

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

Temperance Dews stood with quiet confidence, a respectable women who lived in the sewer that was St. Giles. Her eyes had widened at the sight of Lazarus, but she made no move to flee. Indeed, finding a strange man in her pathetic sitting room seemed not to frighten her at all.Interesting.“I am Lazarus Huntington, Lord Caire,” he said.“I know. What are you doing here?”He tilted his head, studying her. She knew him, yet did not recoil in horror? Yes, she’d do quite well. “I’ve come to make a proposition to you, Mrs. Dews.”Still no sign of fear, though she eyed the doorway. “You’ve chosen the wrong woman, my lord. The night is late. Please leave my house.”No fear and no deference to his rank. An interesting woman indeed.“My proposition is not, er, illicit in nature,” he drawled. “In fact, it’s quite respectable. Or nearly so.”She sighed, looked down at her tray, and then back up at him. “Would you like a cup of tea?”He almost smiled. Tea? When had he last been offered something so very prosaic by a woman? He couldn’t remember.But he replied gravely enough. “Thank you, no.”She nodded. “Then if you don’t mind?”He waved a hand to indicate permission.She set the tea tray on the wretched little table and sat on the padded footstool to pour herself a cup. He watched her. She was a monochromatic study. Her dress, bodice, hose, and shoes were all flat black. A fichu tucked in at her severe neckline, an apron, and cap—no lace or ruffles—were all white. No color marred her aspect, making the lush red of her full lips all the more startling. She wore the clothes of a nun, yet had the mouth of a sybarite.The contrast was fascinating—and arousing.“You’re a Puritan?” he asked.Her beautiful mouth compressed. “No.

She very much feared that if she stayed with Maximus, this awful taint – this terribly wrong act – would, day by day, year by year, wear at her until she was no more than a ghost of her former self. She saw need when she looked into his eyes, but was there any love as well? Had she discarded Penelope’s friendship for a man who didn’t, in the end, truly care fo

Its strange, but I find myself more disillusioned by a man who has such easily persuaded views than I would be by one whose views were entirely opposite but passionately held. Isnt that quixotic of me?

Griffin, please,” she whispered.“Do you want me?” he asked.“Yes!” She tossed her head restlessly. She’d explode if he didn’t give her release soon.“Do you need me?” He kissed her nipple too gently.“Please, please, please.”“Do you love me?”And somehow, despite her extremis, she saw the gaping hole of the trap. She peered up at him blindly in the dark. She couldn’t see his face, his expression.“Griffin,” she sighed hopelessly.“You can’t say it, can you?” he whispered. “Can’t admit it either.

But he place a gentle palm under her chin and turned her face back to him. “Im privileged to see you like this,” he said, his eyes fierce. “Wear you social mask at your balls and parties and when you visit your friends out there, but when we are alone, just the two of us in here, promise me this: that youll show me only your real face, no matter how ugly you might think it. Thats our true intimacy, not sex, but the ability to be ourselves when we are together. (Winter Makepeace)

Ill never look at you in any way but complete admiration.” He stroked her hair soothingly. “You will never be a millstone about my neck. Rather youre the sunshine that brightens my day.” He swallowed. “Dont you see? You brought me into the daylight. Youve embraced parts of me that I was never able to let see light. Dont make me retreat again into the night. (Winter Makepeace)