Anne Stuart Quotes & Sayings

Who shot you?" For a moment he looked annoyed. "I fail to see what that's got to do with anything. Reading assures me that anyone who's ever met me would have reason to shoot me, so I must admit with all candor that I have no idea. Was it you?" "If I'd shot you I wouldn't have missed," she said. "Was that wishful thinking or are you in fact a practiced shot?" "Desire would have made up for lack of expertise. — Anne Stuart

And then she was lying naked beneath the rain and the storm, the angry heavens and Simon of Navarre's golden eyes. — Anne Stuart

You're right about something else," he
said, his voice ragged. "I'm scared to death of you. Because I want you, when common sense and a lifetime of experience tells me I should kill you. I want you, and if I give up then you'll own me, and I'll have nothing left to fight with. — Anne Stuart

A strange stillness had settled over him, as well, a waiting. The earth was shifting beneath him, and he had the hideous suspicion that his entire life was about to change if he didn't get out of there, now. Away from the unexpected, undeniable lure of the dowdy young woman in front of him. — Anne Stuart

She expected annoyance, tolerance, perhaps even a distant amusement. She hadn't expected his reaction.
His arms closed around her like a vice, pulling her tightly up against him. And she didn't have time to kiss him - the touch of her mouth against his seemed to ignite a firestorm. She could feel him through every inch of her body, the lean, deceptively strong body beneath the suit, the heat and lure of muscle and sinew, the sheer intensity of him. She felt as if she were being absorbed into a maelstrom, and all she could do was hold onto him as he kissed her, he kissed her, using his tongue, kissing her with a thoroughness she'd never experienced. — Anne Stuart

It's going to storm," she said.
"You've been in Alabama for twenty-four hours and you think you can
read the weather?"
"Then why is it so dark?"
"It's going to storm."
She wanted to hit him. "Then I'd appreciate getting to my car before it
hits. I don't like thunderstorms. "
"No, I imagine you don't," he said softly. "That's just something else
you're afraid of. Sex, men, thunderstorms, being poor. Me. Anything else?
"Yeah," she said. "I'm afraid of alligators and poisonous snakes, or
otherwise I wouldn't be here in this hearse with you. — Anne Stuart

The foundations set up as tax shelters by the wealthy tended to spend as much money glorifying the donors' names and providing cushy jobs for their friends — Anne Stuart

To her surprise, Jilly appeared to have handed over the telephone and a moment
later Taka ended the call. No, maybe it shouldn't surprise her. Jilly would have resisted bullying, but Taka's calm control was very ... seductive. — Anne Stuart

After all, if spinster chaperons required their own spinster chaperons there simply wouldn't be enough to go around. — Anne Stuart

I lied. I do that, you know, when it suits me. I would have thought you'd realized that by now. — Anne Stuart

What happened to you? Did you finally annoy someone enough to have them beat the shit out of you? — Anne Stuart

You can dress a pig up in satin and lace and its still a pig."
Francis smiled hazily. "Are you calling my intended a pig, Charles?"
Charles raised a dark eyebrow. "Intended what, Francis? You surely cant be having respectable inclinations towards this girl. The bullet hit your arm, not your head. — Anne Stuart

The windows were boarded up, allowing in no light. "I take it this isn't your apartment."
"You think I'd take you to my home?"
"Hope springs eternal. — Anne Stuart

He was human, he was warm and strong and ready to kill to keep her safe. What more could a girl want in a man? — Anne Stuart

He barely hesitated. "Then shall I ruin you, dragon?" "Yes please," she said. And she let the brown dress drop on the floor between them, closing her eyes once more. — Anne Stuart

Without his shirt she could see just how bony he was, probably twenty or thirty pounds under his fighting weight from his years in captivity. He loomed over her, and she finally understood her ambivalence. He had protected her, killed for her, led her to safety. He was safety.
But he was also big and raw and so elementally male that it made her teeth sweat. She'd spent most of her life blissfully above the calls of the flesh and the dark, desperate couplings that subsumed others. She didn't like sex, didn't want sex. Body parts were simply that. She looked at MacGowan and thought about sex. — Anne Stuart

She looked away, meeting Taka's dark, pitiless gaze. Silently, he mouthed something unbelievable. She was sure it was, I love you. — Anne Stuart

She froze. He reached up and took her hand in his, pulling the knife away, making her drop it on the floor. "Show me how much you hate me," he whispered against her mouth. "Prove it to me. — Anne Stuart

He was lost, captured by an innocent, destroyed by a would-be nun, and there was no way the monster, Simon of Navarre, Richard the Fair's Grendel, would ever be the same. — Anne Stuart

And there was nothing left between them but love, neither pure nor simple, but love it was. — Anne Stuart

He had no choice in the matter, if he left her hanging by the straps she'd end up being banged against the side of the aircraft. Not good for her, not good for the plane's stability. You always fastened down a cargo, you didn't leave it loose in the back of a plane.
That was all he was doing, he told himself putting his arms around her to hold her limp body still, letting her head loll back against his shoulder. Keeping the cargo secure.
It was his own damn fault he was getting hard again. — Anne Stuart

He was accustomed to women wanting him. What shocked him was the simple fact that he wanted her.
Not hot, energetic sex. Not a blow job from a novice. He wanted her with a
perplexing intensity he hadn't felt in years. He was the King of Death, and she was his consort.
And no amount of common sense could distract him. — Anne Stuart

You don't believe in God, Rachel. You don't believe in goodness or love
or mercy, do you?"
"I haven't seen enough to form an opinion."
"But you believe in the devil?"
"When I'm sitting in a car with him, yes," she said. — Anne Stuart

She felt hot, strong, alive against him, and he found he had this crazy urge to move his mouth down to the side of her neck, to press it against her, to taste her skin. He wanted to feel her breasts, wanted to pull her T-shirt up and feel her hot skin against his. Damn, he wanted her. — Anne Stuart

She could dream of happy endings. For him, if not for her. — Anne Stuart

He wanted her hands on him, he wanted her mouth on him, he wanted to take her from behind, leaning over the bunk, he wanted her to go down on him, he wanted everything he could possibly think of and more. He wanted it hard and nasty, gentle and sweet. But most of all he wanted it now. — Anne Stuart

This man was truly like a scorpion, a poisonous sting when one least expected it. — Anne Stuart

He couldn't have known. The moonlight wasn't enough to illuminate the room, and the tears that spilled silently down her cheeks didn't touch him. But suddenly the kiss softened, the hands gentled on her, the lips coaxed and teased and healed. And without any more thought she was kissing him back, reaching for him with her mouth while her hands were held back, seeking him out with her tongue, calling him to her in the only way she could. — Anne Stuart

He should have known someone like Lucien de Malheur would offer no loyalty, no male solidarity. — Anne Stuart

Besides, the old man was out of shape, smoked and drank
a walking heart attack. — Anne Stuart

He wasn't marrying her. Even if she'd have him, which she certainly wouldn't, he had no intention of leg-shackling himself to such a difficult woman. She's always be racing off to save some new stray lamb, and if she even caught wind of the Scorpion's criminal associations she'd probaby try to save them, as well. She was a dangerous woman, never content with the status quo, and she would drag who ever was fool enough to marry her along for the ride. — Anne Stuart

I won't marry you."
"Of course you will," he said. "Why wouldn't you? You followed me around like a puppy dog all those years ago, which was pure misery, because I wanted nothing more than to toss you down in the straw and despoil you, and you were too damned young. Back then I had scruples. Fortunantly, nowadays I have none."
"Then why do you want to marry me?" She said, shoving her hair away from her face.
"I have no idea." He said idly. "I expect I love you. Nothing else could account for such bizarre behavior on my part. I expect the captain of the packet ship can perform a ceremony. Are you ready?"
She didn't move. She couldn't marry him, and she needed shoes, and she wasn't sure which was the most important to argue about. — Anne Stuart

She might have forgotten names and faces and people and events, but she hadn't forgotten emotions. — Anne Stuart

Where is the motorcycle?"
"I ditched it. Someone will find it sooner or later and return it to the rental company."
"Not in the U.S."
"We're not in the U.S., in case you haven't noticed. People don't steal lost property, they return it."
"How did you get this car?"
"I stole it. — Anne Stuart

Your soul may be the epitome of putrescent decay, but apart from minor scarring you know perfectly well that you are quite decadently appealing."
His pale eyes widened, and then he explored in laughter. "I don't know which enchants me more, putrescent decay or decadently appealing. — Anne Stuart

If we're going to die there's no harm in telling me pretty lies, In the end it won't matter, and I'll die happy."
"I have no intention of letting either of us die. And then where would the lies get us?"
"If you manage to keep us alive then I promise I'll forget. Just tell me you care about me. If we're going to die then how important is the truth?"
"It's because we might die that the truth is particularly important,And telling you that I care about you is a waste of time. I wouldn't have crossed the ocean, come out of hiding and tracked you down if
you didn't matter to me."
"Then come up with a better lie. Tell me you love me."
"You don't need lies, Chloe,I do love you." he said. — Anne Stuart

Goodbye, Lord Rohan," she said. The door to Lina's house stood open, the footman waitig patiently. "I don't expect we'll see each other again."
His smile was slow, mocking, irresistibly devilish. "Would you care to wager on that, my love? — Anne Stuart

And what if I think you're doing this out of misguided sense of decency?"
"Oh, any sense of decency I possess is most definitely misguided," he said cheerfully. — Anne Stuart

Ben scooped her up in his arms, holding her high against his chest as he carried her back into the cottage, past the shrouded, familiar shapes of the furniture into the night-dark bedroom. They were alone now for the first time. There was no Emmett, no Harris, no lies or masquerade or motives or revenge. There was just Ben and Rachel, together in the darkness. — Anne Stuart

You'll marry me, my dragon, and you'll bear my children, and you'll drive me mad and live in that ramshackle old house with me and I'll even put up with the occasional visit from your sister if
I must. But you'll marry me. Not because you have to. But because I won't let you go."
"Why?" she demanded.
And he answered the only way he could, in French. "Je't'aime," he said. "I love you."
"Je't'aime aussi," she said. "And I will make your life a living hell," she added in the same language.
He smiled down at her. "I'm counting on it. — Anne Stuart

Why did you save Mahmoud?" Killian's voice was so low she almost didn't hear him.
"Instinct," she muttered sleepily. "I certainly wasn't about to save you"
His laugh vibrated through his leg, through her body. "Of course not. Mahmoud's grateful. — Anne Stuart

You tell anyone that I cried, and I'll cut your liver out."
"Do you even know where a human liver resides?"[ ... ]
"Yes," she said, and punched him in it. — Anne Stuart

If you lust after someone and have an absurd and overwhelming need to protect them, then the best way to deal with the situation is to marry the person. — Anne Stuart

He pulled her back, off balance so that she fell against him, and he took her face in his two hands and held it very still while his eyes looked down into hers. Somber, truthful, painfully honest. "I love you, Chloe," he said. "Which is the most dangerous thing I could do. — Anne Stuart

You'd be better served if
you gave me a moment to regain my self-control and let me remove my boots. It's the least a
gentleman can do."
"And you're such a gentleman."
"Not with you, love. But I'm trying. — Anne Stuart

And telling you I care about you is a waste of time. I wouldn't have crossed the ocean, come out of hiding, tracked you down, if you didn't matter to me. — Anne Stuart

(Beth) "You can't leave me behind!"
"I can and I will, if I have to break your neck to keep you from following me."
"I'd like to see you try."
"No, you wouldn't." His voice was flat, unemotional, but even in the darkness she could see the faint flicker in his eyes. She looked behind her, at the crumpled body of the pot smoking soldier, his head at an odd angle, his eyes open and staring.
"Oh, God," she whispered, horrified. What had seemed a strange kind of nightmare was suddenly, terribly real. "Did you kill him?"
"No, the tooth fairy came along and took care of him. — Anne Stuart

People notice the most beautiful dress every person can wear, ... a smile — Anne Stuart

She could feel the hot tears pouring down her face, and she pressed it against the stone. MacGowan, you stupid bastard, she thought. Why did you have to go and get yourself killed? I care about you.
Care about you. Stupid phrase. She knew the truth, and right then the least she could do for the man who'd died protecting her was to admit it. She was stupidly, idiotically in love with him. He didn't deserve it, she was smart enough to know better, but all the rationalization in the world didn't help. It simply was. — Anne Stuart

You've been pinning for him these last three years, God knows why. Admittedly he's gorgeous, but you're hardly the type to be overset by simple beauty. Why?
Because he has sad eyes, she could have said. Because he tries so very hard to be bad, to be mean, to be cruel, and all you have to do is look past the studied ennui to see a hurt little boy trying to emerge. And yes, because he's bloody gorgeous. — Anne Stuart

Too bad he took a tumble out that window when he was too drunk to know what he was doing," she said, cheerfully callous. "It'll be a cold day in hell before I ever let a man near me again. — Anne Stuart

If this were a different time, a different place, I would take you to bed with me and make love to you for days. — Anne Stuart

Please go away, Monsieur le Comte," she said in a polite voice. "You must have tired of your absurd, inconsequential games by now."
"My games are never inconsequential, as long as they entertain me."
She closed her eyes in frustration for a brief moment. "This house is filled with beautiful women ... "
"Oh, not quite filled," he said frankly, leaning back. "The Revels won't start for another day. At this point there are no more than half a dozen beauties in residence."
"Then why don't you go bother one of them?"
"Because I don't want one of them, my sweet. I want you. — Anne Stuart

He released her hand back in her own lap. "Sometimes you give up what you love to stay alive."
"Have you ever had to do that?"
He turned his head to look at her so long it should have been dangerous, but he seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to the road. "It's coming," he said.
And he turned away, driving into the slowly dawning day. — Anne Stuart

You have everyone else at your feet, Miss Lydia. Why should you need me as well?"
For a moment she couldn't speak, mesmerized by the torment she saw in the dark depths of his eyes. "Because you're the one I want," she said in a hushed voice. — Anne Stuart

And yet still she watched him ... he wondered why. One possibility, and by far his favorite, was that she was planning his murder. — Anne Stuart

Takashi had no choice, and he'd always known it. This was one reason he'd tried
so hard not to care about anyone, one reason why he'd known immediately just how dangerous Summer Hawthorne could be. Because now she was the one he couldn't sacrifice, couldn't walk away from, no matter how high the stakes. He could die for what he believed in. He just couldn't let her die as well. — Anne Stuart

I thought you'd be halfway to Tokyo by now," she said, stalling.
"Not without you."
Oh, man, she was so screwed. He was bad enough when he was giving her shit. Right now he was looking at her as if
she was the most precious thing on earth, and she knew what she looked and smelled like. The world had turned upside
down.
"I don't suppose you love me," she said. "Even a little bit?"
"Don't be an idiot, Ji-chan. Why else would I be here? Now, do you want to stay here or do you want to prove you're really
crazy and come with me?"
"Will you grow your hair again?"
"If you want me to."
"Then tell me."
"You're not going to make this easy, are you? Su-chan warned me about you."
"She warned me, too. Tell me."
He let out a long-suffering sigh. "Aishiteru," he muttered.
"In English."
"I love you. — Anne Stuart

My hair covers my scarring.'
'But we've agreed that no one notices your scarring once they're around you. You woo them like a big, fat hairy black spider, and no matter how much they struggle they're helpless. — Anne Stuart

Chloe took a sip of her coffee. Strong as faith, sweet as love, black as sin. — Anne Stuart

Summer Hawthorne was simply more trouble than she was worth. At least as far as anyone with any sense would realize.
Unfortunately, Taka's common sense seemed to have deserted him in the last few days. — Anne Stuart

She heard the zip of his pants, and expected him to step away from her, leave her alone in the bathroom to pull herself together. Instead, his hands were very gentle as he moved her out of the way, running water into the tiny sink.
And then his hands were between her legs, and he was washing her, and she was too shocked to do anything more than let him. He tossed the paper towels, then took her discarded clothes from the floor and put them on her, waiting patiently as she lifted one foot, then the other. She was trembling, weak, totally compliant, and when he finished he wet another paper towel and washed her face with it, gently, like a lover. — Anne Stuart

He turned back, and there was an odd light in his eyes. "Did I ever tell you that I can't live without you?" he said.
"No," she said. "You can tell me about it when we survive." She could barely breathe, death was eating its way toward her, and she wanted to laugh out loud with the joy of it. — Anne Stuart

He tightened his grip on her hand and pulled her toward him in the darkness. He knew exactly how she'd respond, her other hand coming up to push him away, her hand touching the bare, hot skin of his chest so that she drew back in surprise, long enough for him to wrap her tightly against his chest, trapping her hand between them. He knew she'd try to jerk her head away when he slid his hand into her hair and tilted her face back for his kiss. And he knew she'd open her mouth for him.
What he hadn't guessed was what it would feel like. [ ... ]
He hadn't known a mouth could feel like that. That a woman, an argumentative, reluctant woman could feel so hot in his arms, so incredibly right that his monumental self control could start to slip. — Anne Stuart

I don't love you," he said. And he pulled her into his arms and kissed her, a kiss of passion and desperation, a kiss of deep
currents and longing. "I don't love you," he said again.
"Of course you don't," she murmured happily. And she followed him out the door, into the lion's den. — Anne Stuart

Dawn couldn't come soon enough. He had to get her out of his life as quickly as
possible. It was becoming the most important thing - more important than breathing, living. He needed to get away from her, fast. Because he didn't want to let her go. — Anne Stuart

He's a terrible man, miss," Nanny Maude said. "Consorts with devils, he does, and drinks blood, and ... "
"He was at Culloden!" Lydia blurted out. "He was not even twenty years old, fighting for Bonnie Prince Charlie, and he saw his entire family slaughtered. He barely escaped with his life."
There was a shocked silence. And then Nanny Maude cleared her throat. "I always said there was good in the lad. Indeed, and I tied to tell you so. Handsome, too, and I expect a good woman would put a stop to these parties of his. — Anne Stuart

Betrayal was the name of the game - to get what he'd have, to use every weapon in his arsenal — Anne Stuart

I would have to ask her, just to make certain I'd done everything I could. But I'd warn her. I have no money, no prospects, an exceedingly ugly face, and my dearest friend is the King of Hell."
"You think that would stop her?"
"I have no idea. Would it, Lydia?"
"Nothing would stop her, if she loved you. And she does, Charles. She loves your pretty face and you scarred face. She loves your past and your present and she most especially loves your future. Just ask."
"Marry me, Lydia. — Anne Stuart

We have a guardian angel, and who cares if he's a fallen one? — Anne Stuart

Jilly looked at it with a sinking heart. It was difficult enough when the exotic, undeniably gorgeous creature of her fantasies had turned out to be an obnoxious bully. Of course he had to have a Harley, as well, completing the perfect bad-boy image. With the tattooed teardrops on his high cheekbones and spiky, waist-length, flame-colored hair and his long, leather-clad legs and pointy-toed cowboy boots, he was almost irresistible, despite his manners.
A Harley sealed the deal. He was all her adolescent fantasies come true.
And it was time to grow up. — Anne Stuart

He would die at her hands. He knew it, with sudden lightening clarity. The man he had struggled so hard to become, the all-powerful, all-knowing Simon of Navarre, would be destroyed by a woman's heart. — Anne Stuart

Taka reached over and put his hand on hers as the plane began to climb. She didn't look his way, didn't open her eyes, but her hand turned beneath his and caught his fingers, entwining them with hers. Until they were high in the sky over the Pacific and she fell asleep and her hand loosened in his.
And still he held it. Until he, too, fell asleep. — Anne Stuart

What are you doing, Alys?" He'd turned to watch her, and his expression was disbelieving.
She'd emerged from the winding staircase to stand in the open, but she hadn't yet been able to make her feet move further. "Facing my fears," she said in a wobbly voice.
"Courting death?"
"Are you going to kill me?"
"The lightning might."
"Are you you going to kill me?" she persisted, flinching when the thunder rumbled again.
"Would you ride a horse for me?" he countered.
"Yes."
"Would you walk across this parapet to come to me?"
"Yes." And shes started forward, shivering as the rain lashed down around them.
She halted just out of reach, lifting her head and throwing back her shoulders with quiet determination.
"Would you come to me?" she asked him.
"Yes," he said. And he crossed the last few feet of the parapet and pulled her into his arms, kissing her mouth. — Anne Stuart

My love," he said with great patience, "you're hair is a rat's nest. Your eyes are swollen from weeping, your nose is red, your clothing is tattered, and you face is streaked with mud. You are still beyond passing fair, but not enough to tempt my immortal soul." He wiped a patch of mud from her delicate cheekbone. "I love you because you have a fierce heart, a brave soul, a tender touch, and woman's grace. I love you for a thousand reasons that I cant even begin to understand, when I didn't want to love you at all. I love your mind and your heart and soul, and yes, I love your pretty face as well. — Anne Stuart

She should feel sick. Horrified, stunned. But the horrible truth was, she felt fine. He killed. He killed to protect her. And some
ancient, atavistic streak inside her wanted to preen and purr. She was one sick puppy. — Anne Stuart

You can find yourself a decent,
honorable man, one to love you, respect you, cherish you. Someone with
morals, with a decent job and a good future. That's what you think you
want, isn't it? Not some white trash from Alabama. Not some ex-con
who's running the scam of a lifetime. You're so good and decent, the very
thought of me disgusts you, doesn't it?" His voice was low and seductive
as he pushed the words at her.
She met his gaze with what she hoped was a fearless one of her own.
"Yes," she said.
"Then tell me, Rachel," he said, letting his hand toy with the loose
neckline of her tunic, "why aren't you out somewhere, fucking your little
gentleman's brains out? Why are you here with me, quivering when I
touch you? — Anne Stuart

She tried to allow herself only one biting remark an hour, and she had already overstepped her allowance. — Anne Stuart

He kissed the salty tears from her cheeks, her jaw, her neck. And then he kissed her mouth, slowly at first, tasting her pain and despair. Tasting her desire.
He didn't know whether he turned her in his arms, or whether she shifted herself. He only knew she was astride him, facing him, her long legs wrapped around his hips, and the kissing had gone long past comfort. — Anne Stuart

He slid his arm under her waist, hauled her up, and entered her that way, sliding in deep, so deep, and her guttural cry was a heartbreaking pleasure.
He couldn't stop. She wouldn't let him. She twisted her head around and kissed him, and he wanted to keep on and on, to fill her mouth, her body, her soul with him. To have her take everything and then want more. — Anne Stuart

her, climbing out of the bath. — Anne Stuart

He was sound asleep, his long legs stretched out in front of him, the blessed fire blazing, an empty bottle of wine by his side. He hadn't been shaved recently, and he looked rumpled, dissolute and beautiful. Like
a fallen angel. She moved to stand in front of him and pointed the pistol directly at his heart.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he murmured, and then he opened his extraordinary eyes. "It's always
unwise to shoot the man you're in love with. — Anne Stuart

She tilted her head to one side, considering him. "Do you love me?"
"Love is a trick and a sham. A foolish plague and a lie and a torment."
"Do you love me?" she repeated, quite calmly. Knowing the answer.
"Yes, may it curse my soul."
"May it save your soul," she said. — Anne Stuart

If I am ever in the position where I wish to seduce someone I will simply assure her it's better than rats. — Anne Stuart

I don't have time to read," Warren announced loudly.
"I wasn't asking you," Sally said. "And anyone with any sense finds the time to read, or their brain
atrophies and their soul shrivels. — Anne Stuart

She came at him sideways, away from his legs, reaching down to pull the duct tape away. He didn't even notice the pain, spitting out the rag someone had put in his mouth earlier. She turned, and handed him a bottle of water. "You're probably thirsty. The drug I gave you tends to make your mouth dry."
"No, I think that was caused by the sock someone stuffed in there," he said. "Your work? — Anne Stuart

Not now. She'd fought back, hard. Only to have her lawsuit thrown out by the first judge, her lawyers quit on her, and defeat wash over her like a bitter shower of acid. You can't sue a religion. You can't accuse a saint. Stella Connery was of sound mind when she made her will, — Anne Stuart

What have you done with Hetty?" he demanded.
"Listened to her incessant prattle, complaints, tears, demands, artless conversation and recriminations for more than twenty-four hours. You will be pleased to know I didn't touch her - if I had I would have throttled her. Take her away, if you please. I'd rather spend the rest of my life a pauper than have to spend even another day with the divine Miss Chippie. — Anne Stuart

I eat gaijin for breakfast ... His words trailed off as Jilly came out of the house, in her pseudo-frock, her combat boots, her spiky hair and her young, young face. He just stared at her, motionless, as if someone had clubbed him over the head with a mallet.
Jilly froze where she was, staring back at the exotic creature in black leather and bright red hair who'd invaded the garden. — Anne Stuart

She raised her head finally. He looked the same, but then, he always did. She'd seem him kill twice, and he betrayed no reaction at all. He was a monster, not even human.
But he was her monster ... — Anne Stuart

She had the underwear of a thirteen-year-old, as well, he thought. He glanced back at her. But the shoes of a courtesan. — Anne Stuart

It started slow and hit her with the force of a sledgehammer, a cataclysm of such power she could only hold on to him and let it happen. He went rigid against her, rock hard in her arms, and he probably muttered "oh, shit" again, but she was beyond hearing, lost in some mind-scattered cloud of inexpressible pleasure. She fell back, limp, awash in shimmering sensation, and she knew an odd, faint trace of regret that he'd used a condom. She'd wanted all of him inside her, a total giving, and he'd withheld something. — Anne Stuart

You know as well as I do, damn you. Like it or not I seem to have grown a heart. I have absolutely no use for the damned thing, but there it sits, demanding Elinor. I can't live without her. — Anne Stuart

He caught up with her outside her doorway, when she almost gave up. He said nothing, simply pulled her into his arms, against his strong, hard body, and his hand slid beneath her hair, tilting her face up to his. "No more running away?" His voice was rough.
His eyes glittered down into hers, and if she wanted tenderness it wasn't there. Simply a dark, naked heat sparking between them.
"No more running away," she said. — Anne Stuart

Obviously the household of Richard the Fair was unused to hearing the magician laugh. Even Richard himself stopped pawing his willing partner to stare at Simon of Navarre. "Something amuses you, my Grendel?" he demanded.
"You have been gracious enough to gift me with a clever wife," Simon said.
"A clever woman is a curse," Richard said flatly, eyeing Alys with profound distrust. "Change your mind, my friend. Choose the pretty one."
"My lord," said Simon, "I did. — Anne Stuart

Just show me where you want him. You can take the first shower, princess."
"How very thoughtful of you. But I imagine Samuel and his wife
have more than one shower in this lovely house."
"I'll be in a back bedroom, out of sight. Don't be squeamish.
Madame Lambert. I promise your virtue is safe with me."
"I'm relieved to hear it. — Anne Stuart

He halted abruptly, and this time she did slam into him, but at least it was his back absorbing the blow of her soft body. He could pretend to ignore it. "What have you got on your feet?" he growled.
"Shoes."
He looked down, his eyes accustomed to the inky black. Light-weight sneakers, already soaking wet from the damp undergrowth. "Christ, woman," he muttered.
"I didn't exactly get a chance to choose my wardrobe when they kidnapped me," she said.
Damned if he didn't like her. — Anne Stuart

He flicked off the light switch, setting the alarm system. Overhead he could hear
Reno - music that could only be Japanese hip-hop, for God's sake, and thumps and
bumps. Either he had half a dozen girls up there on the floor and he was doing them one by one, or he was doing some sort of exercise. Or dancing. The thought of Reno dancing was enough to send cold shivers down Peter's spine. He preferred the notion of an orgy. — Anne Stuart

I hate to tell you, dragon, but that's an integral part of the whole usiness," he whispered. "If you're afraid to touch me then we're not going to get very far."
She lifted her head to look at him. "I thought I could lie back and let you ravish me," she said with complete honesty.
He shook his head, the smile hovering around his lips, his eyes intent. "This is a cooperative effort, my love. You have to do your part. — Anne Stuart

And you're no going to see me inherit the title
you'll marry on your deathbed and beget an heir just to spite me," he said in a voice that wasn't far from a whine.
"What a wonderful opinion you have of my virility," Rohan replied. — Anne Stuart