Carolyn Jewel Quotes & Sayings

Her gaze collided with the duke's. His eyes were a clear, pale green. Why was he staring so intently when there was hardly another woman less interesting than she? — Carolyn Jewel

Pleasure eased the edges of Tiern-Cope's face, and with his mouth curved in a smile he resembled his brother more than ever. But the eyes gave him away. They were cold, a lifeless, icy blue. He grasped the woman's hips, and this woman who had Olivia's copper hair and even her features, cried out in a low, guttural moan of pleasure incapable of containment. "I am coming," he said. He opened his eyes again, looking at her, and she wanted to weep from the heartbreak.
His hips came up, and he gasped and said, "My heart. My love. I'm coming."
She slid away, down and away, and into the safety of Sebastian's embrace. His arms enfolded her, warm and tight. Hurry, she thought. — Carolyn Jewel

One of her arms was around his waist as her eyes fluttered open. He found himself lost in limpid blue green. She wasn't his. Not legally. He could as yet lay no claim to her heart. He wanted the ceremony that would make her indisputably his. He wanted Sophie to be the mother of his children. He wanted Sophie. He wouldn't ever be whole without her. If he rushed her, he stood to lose everything. — Carolyn Jewel

Come here into the warmth," he said easily. He reached for her, taking her hand and pulling her toward him. "I've been waiting for you." He stroked her hair, shifting a bit to let the light fall on her. "For a very long time."
She, too, reached for him, following a line in the air along the length of the forming scar that marred his chest. A corona flared around him until she moved past the point where the sunlight hit her eyes. She stared at his chest, at the gashed and ill-healed flesh, and he, seeing her attention, took her hand and brought her fingers to his mouth. She felt the warmth of his breath, the pressure of his lips, soft and warm. "I wish you had never been wounded," she said. "Even though it brought you home to me. — Carolyn Jewel

He'd seen that absent look from her dozens of times in London. She thought herself invisible, and was not. Not to him. This was the second time he'd mentioned marriage to her. The second time she heard nothing but his words. — Carolyn Jewel

He made a small movement of his head. "Do you love Pennhyll as well as you do the mountain upon which it sits?"
"I find it much like you."
His mouth quirked, and then, curved in another smile. She stared, transfixed by the sight. "Unpleasant and forlorn?"
She tipped her head to one side, considering him. She felt an odd sensation of understanding this harsh man who was, in fact, a stranger to her. "Not entirely unpleasant, that I will admit. Nor forlorn, either."
"Do not tell me you find me amiable."
"Certainly not. Like Pennhyll, you are strong and fierce." She felt, ridiculous as it was, that she knew him better than she knew herself. "To make a life here is to have courage and heart, and those you surely have. — Carolyn Jewel

Miss Edith Clay brightened the room with her presence. Just from walking through the door, she'd made the room a happier place. This was true despite his having spent the last several months assuring himself his recollection of her had to be incorrect. His recollection was not incorrect. It was appallingly accurate. — Carolyn Jewel

You want to know why I love you. You brought light into my formerly gray existence." He touched her cheek. "Until you, I never knew a woman could be both friend and lover. You saved me from the dark. I love you for what you are; strong and brave and kind. When I walk into a room and you are there, my heart lifts. When I'm away, just thinking of you makes me smile. Being with you makes me happy. No one else has ever done that. When I am with you, I am whole. Better than whole, for on my own, I'm a worthless fool. — Carolyn Jewel

What is this place?" Now that they'd stopped, his body registered violent objection to the abuse of a mile's walk down the mountain. Hell. To pay. Pandelion whined.
"Home," replied Miss Willow.
He held out his hand for the key.
She sighed. "You're a very managing sort."
"I am a man, Miss Willow."
"I dislike being managed."
"Alas," said Sebastian. — Carolyn Jewel

He fell quiet, but she understood this was his way. He was not a talkative man. Once, she'd imagined him sitting alone in his house, a monster ready to devour anyone who came near. What she imagined now was a man who had both his rank and his natural reticence working against him.
She smiled at him. If he continued in his gruff ways the rest of his life, she would defend him to anyone. Anyone. — Carolyn Jewel

His hands tightened on her shoulders as the truth washed over him. My God, she really had told him yes.
He opened his mouth to ask if she was certain then didn't. If he did, she might change her mind, and he had no intention of giving her that opportunity. Underneath his hands, her shoulders quivered. She raised her gaze to him again, and his heart plunged into the depths. She had her lower lip trapped between her teeth, and her eyes were tormented pools of blue green. His heart broke just looking at her.
She was not in love with him. He knew that. Her acceptance of him had nothing to do with the sort of desperate longing he had for her. Not that he hadn't known that the first time he proposed to her, but to have her say yes out of despair added an edge of pain to his euphoria. He knew she wasn't indifferent to him, after all, and for the moment, that sufficed to keep the hurt at arm's
length. — Carolyn Jewel

Is it possible?" He could have sworn she was teasing. She shouldn't have the energy for that.
"What?" He lay next to her on his stomach, wrung out. Completely and utterly sated and yet thinking of the things he yet wanted to do to her.
"You did." Her voice was light, teasing even.
"What?"
"You begged, my lord."
He laughed softly. "To have you make love to me like that, I'll beg you every night of my life, Lady Banallt. — Carolyn Jewel

The valet blanched at the thought of four hours in a carriage. "I've sent for Dr. Fansher." As if that would shorten their errand.
He gave McNaught an even look. "I never told you not to."
McNaught lifted the curtain and peered out the window, letting in the pale light of dawn. He settled back on the seat. "At least there's decent inns in Carlisle." Frowning, he said, "I wish you'd told me, my Lord. I'd have packed a change of clothes."
"We're not staying the night."
"But we'll be the entire day on the road. Dr. Fansher would never approve of this."
"With Andrew's horses, I expect we'll make good time."
McNaught shook his head. "Worse than a cat after a mouse when you've got an idea in your head, you are."
"My one virtue."
"Small consolation when both man and mouse are dead."
"So long as you bury us both at sea, I don't give a damn. — Carolyn Jewel

I am not your wicked witch," Alexandrine said.
"Beg to differ there," Nikodemus said. "You sure as hell are."
"I'm your sworn fiend," she returned. Between Xia's body and hers, she moved her hand over Xia's crotch. "But I'm his wicked witch."
"Fuck, yes," Xia said. — Carolyn Jewel

With you it's different. I come like a bloody bull with you. I want to reach inside you and make you feel what I do, to know heaven and hell and pleasure so intense you can't tell if it's agony or pure bliss." ... "When I make love to you, I am yours. You own me body and soul. — Carolyn Jewel

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. — Carolyn Jewel

She had a good, strong voice. She smiled with her voice, too. This, he thought, was the magic that had drawn him to her. — Carolyn Jewel

This is right. You know it is." His other hand touched her cheek and curved around the back of her head. "Pennhyll wants you. The Black Earl wants you. I want you. And I will not dishonor you by offering you anything less than my name. I don't give a damn how many times I've made love to you in my head, I want you in life, undisputably and without the Black Earl standing around. When next we make love, Olivia, you will be my wife, and James must find a way to overcome his disappointment."
-Sebastian to Olivia — Carolyn Jewel

When Sebastian reached his room, the Black Earl stood by his bed. Sebastian turned away, fingering the cufflink in his pocket. He didn't need the Black Earl's help in debauching Olivia anymore, he had apparently at last managed that well enough all on his own. He threw himself onto a chair, full of his memory of his hands on Olivia. Cold air sent a prickle along the backs of his arms. He opened his eyes and saw the Black Earl again. In one hand, he gripped a sword of unearthly silver, but held downward so that the point of the weapon touched the floor. He wept as if his heart were broken. "Aidez-la" Help her.
Sebastian heard nothing but the roar of those words tearing through his soul. Help her.
The Black Earl, weeping still, turned to the stone wall. A rent marred his crimson tunic, the edges jagged and blackened, and then he, too, vanished and left behind him nothing but an aching, unfillable emptiness.
Help her. — Carolyn Jewel

The furnishings she'd chosen reminded him of the woman who lived here. Nothing to admire, and yet he wished to be here. To stay here and be surrounded by rooms that settled him. He was at ease, and the longer he stayed, the more he found to like. — Carolyn Jewel

Because, good God, Lily Wellstone had the face of an angel, the body of a goddess, and the spirit of the devil glinting from her eyes. She was a woman worth losing his soul for. — Carolyn Jewel

He did not want to go to his grave knowing he had risked nothing for the woman he wanted. He wasn't an ass, though. Or if he was, he did not wish to give her incontrovertible evidence of the fact. What to say to her, then, when he knew he was likely to speak too gruffly? — Carolyn Jewel

Sure, he'd kill, she didn't doubt that, but she got the impression he'd rather leave you maimed someplace so you could die nice and slow. While he watched and took detailed notes so he'd do better the next time. — Carolyn Jewel

Dread that she would meet some other man and see in him all the joy of life that he lacked.
"I will see you home." The words came out all wrong, with gruff emphasis on the word will. One look at her, and he lost all chance at serenity. Because he had never in his life cared whether anyone liked him. He'd never thought about it. Until her. — Carolyn Jewel

If he spoke, there was no possible outcome but another disastrous exchange of words at cross-purposes. The chances of him finding both the right words and the right inflection were, in his experience with her thus far, vanishingly small. He would either growl at her, or tell her what was in his heart. — Carolyn Jewel

Her smile hollowed out his chest. She'd changed since last he saw her. She was brighter. More vibrant. Happiness suited her. — Carolyn Jewel

She cocked her head. The ribbon tied beneath her chin glinted dully in the light. "Have I said something wrong?"
"No."
"I have." She stepped closer. "You are the most inscrutable man I have ever met."
He laughed. No mirth at all.
"I'm quite serious." She studied him. "No." Her quiet voice lanced through him. "Don't look away. Not when I am about to understand you."
"Are you certain you wish to?" He held her gaze, and the silence of his hunting box became unendurable. He fixed in his head an image of her in his bed. Nude. And of him, there to touch, and taste, experiencing that moment when his prick slid into her body. Her. Not any woman, but her. Specifically. The woman who made him see beauty where he'd once seen only duty. — Carolyn Jewel

Oxthorpe stood. He could do nothing else.
Her hands stilled, and her smile faded away. She stood and dropped into a curtsy. What did one say in such situations, when one knew a lady disapproved? "Miss Clay," he said.
"Duke." She'd given the field laborer a happier smile than she gave him. Most everyone else had stopped smiling, too. This was the effect he had on others. He was the Duke of Oxthorpe, and though he did his duty by his title and his estate, he was not beloved. He did not know how to be beloved the way Miss Clay was. — Carolyn Jewel

She bent her head over the flowers. He knew she was not beautiful. He knew she did not see herself as the object of a man's lust. He knew if he told her he found her desirable, she'd not understand his meaning. She'd think he meant something other than marriage. In that, she would be right, but a man could want both things from the same woman. — Carolyn Jewel

He stopped moving for the space of a heartbeat. He bent his head to her shoulder and rocked his hips, pressing inside her. His hair fell forward around either side of his face, a frame of black, silky where it brushed her collarbone. "I am in paradise." His hips rocked again.
She closed her eyes tight. She felt his lips on her cheek and then on her eyelids, placing gentle kisses. — Carolyn Jewel

You are walking to Hope Springs?"
"Yes, Your Grace."
"In this weather?"
She glanced around and gave him a smile. "I haven't any other weather to walk in. — Carolyn Jewel

He headed for the door but stopped halfway. "I love you, Sophie. I love you with my soul."
Her bare arms held up the duvet. "Don't ruin this, Banallt, please."
"I'm not a villain from one of your novels, Sophie." She stared at him, wide-eyed. "Unlike them, I can change. I have changed."
Unfortunately, she didn't believe him. — Carolyn Jewel

You know, you're not so bad when you try to be nice."
"It's not easy." He looked down as he brought the end of the towel around his hip. "Damn thing's pink."
The corner of her mouth twitched. "You're man enough to carry it off. Or are you afraid you aren't pretty in pink?"
"Baby, I'm so pretty in pink, I'm worried you won't be able to help yourself. — Carolyn Jewel

The patterns overhead shifted so that, had she an imagination prone to hysteria, she could easily convince herself something hid in the curtains above her head. She imagined a face in the shadows and folds of fabric, a face with sad, hollow eyes. The sliver of light shining through a crack in the window curtains disappeared. Shadows deepened and swirled and the face became even more uncannily real. — Carolyn Jewel

Oh, my God. They were going to sleep together, with no sleeping involved. — Carolyn Jewel

He smiled at her, and Sophie's emotions went to war. She had always admired Banallt's intellect and his easy manner with her. He never had condescended to her or made her feel unworthy or insignificant. But how could she forget him arriving at Rider Hall with Tommy, drunk and with a woman who was not respectable? All the times he'd watched her with his unsettling eyes and
then left with Tommy. The night he'd admitted he was unfaithful to his marriage and saw no reason to change. — Carolyn Jewel

Sophie." He said her name softly. If her life depended on it, she could not have looked anywhere but into the flat, silver depths of his eyes. She didn't think it was possible to be more aware of him than she already was, but the next moment proved her wrong. "Darling. I must turn down your offer. I am as astonished as you. But this is a subject upon which I've had months to think.
You're intelligent. You suspected my first offer of marriage was based upon my conviction that you would never consent to an affair with me and that it was desperation only for your person
that drove me to offer for you."
"And the second upon a need to rescue me."
He nodded. "Far more straightforward, darling, yet hopelessly complex."
She ignored the shiver in her belly. "Meaning?"
"I love you." He reached for the wine and filled the two glasses, though he left them on the table.
"I've become like you. A hopeless fool who cannot break his vows. And I did make vows to you today. — Carolyn Jewel

There is a view," he said. "You will admire it." A command. All wrong. He meant for her to hear that he wanted her to see the view, but no. By habit, he demanded that she accompany him. "I should like for you to see it. Please. — Carolyn Jewel

The tide will turn, Miss Willow." A smile lurked around his mouth, but no, that was not possible, that the earl of Tiern-Cope should smile, and at her.
"It hasn't yet."
"You may find the sea casts you onto the shores of paradise." His voice was low and soft, and Olivia felt her heart stir at the sound. "Or through the very gates of hell."
"So it might." She gave herself a mental shake. Lord Tiern-Cope could not possibly be flirting with her. Impossible. "But that won't stop me from embracing this moment in all its beautiful perfection."
"With but one flaw, Miss Willow."
"Whatever could that be?"
"Don't even try to tell me I don't spoil the present perfection of your moment." The corner of his lip twitched and then gave up. He smiled, and she, perverse creature that she was, felt like she'd been tossed off a cliff with him standing at the bottom to catch her. — Carolyn Jewel

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

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. — Carolyn Jewel

I dislike your formality." ... "Your formality keeps us at arms length when I want not even a hairbreadths between us. — Carolyn Jewel

She laughed, and the sound pierced his heart. — Carolyn Jewel

She ran and didn't slow until she came to a hallway that terminated in a multipaned window of thick, old-fashioned glass. Her breath rasped in her throat, but the dizziness and nausea eased enough that she stood steadier on her feet. She heard again the gentle ringing of metal sliding against metal. Musty air rose up with the same smell of leather and dust, an acrid undertone beneath. She whipped her head toward the end of the hall. At first she didn't see anything. The light shifted and swirled, and the swordsman materialized from the shadows. Gold and red emblazoned his tunic in a chevron against a cobalt background. The sword was back in its scabbard, strapped across his back. He was tall, with broad shoulders and dark hair, and he looked like Sebastian. Timed to the wind stirring the ivy outside, he vanished through the wall. — Carolyn Jewel

She looked over her shoulder at him, as ever, not in the least affected by him or his consequence. Not one whit. She was a lady, yes, but she would never believe herself the sort of woman who might marry a duke. "You aren't the sentimental sort, are you?"
"I'm told not."
She considered him, and he felt the curiosity behind her scrutiny of him. He had no idea what to make of that and so pushed off the wall he'd leaned against and headed for the door. She followed. — Carolyn Jewel

Your reputation invites scandal. Your temperament assures it. — Carolyn Jewel

His eyes darkened. "You're in pain, aren't you?" He touched her temple, and she leaned her head against his hand.
"Yes." The inside of her head felt stuffed full like an iron band slowly tightened around her brain.
"Still having bad dreams?"
"Nightmares." She put her palms flat to his chest and spoke to the buttons on his coat. "Always the same. A face looming over me. I can't breathe. I feel helpless. And frightened."
"Hush, my heart." His fingertips nudged her chin up so that she looked into his face. "Hush."
She leaned against him. "Why can't I remember?"
"It isn't time, yet." His hands landed on her shoulders. — Carolyn Jewel