Monica McCarty Quotes & Sayings

She fit her hand around the curve of his whiskered jaw. "I'm sorry. But I knew you would not leave otherwise - "
"Damn right I would not have left," he said gruffly. "Don't you understand what you mean to me? You are everything. Never doubt that. My place is with you, only you. — Monica McCarty

Thief, brigand, outlaw, scourge: Those were names he was familiar with, not hero. Yet for a moment, this wee lass could make him want to believe that it was a possibility. Make him believe that there might be a flicker left in the embers of his blackened soul. That maybe there was still something inside him that hadn't died.
He regretted that one day soon he would have to prove her wrong. — Monica McCarty

As soon as the man had gone, Caitrina moved to stand before him, her soft feminine scent clouding his senses. Would it always be like this - this clawing need for her? The inability to think when she was near? The feeling that if he didn't take her in his arms and kiss her, he would surely die? — Monica McCarty

She read him better than he realized and eyed him warily. "Do you want to know?"
He thought for a moment, then shook his head. "Nay." It was in the past. "Then I would have to kill him."
Her eyes widened, his blunt statement surprising her. "You would do that for me?"
The woman was daft. "I will kill anyone who harms you." He cocked a brow. "I hope that doesn't offend your delicate sensibilities?"
"No," she said hesitantly. "Though I'm not used to having such a fierce protector."
He kissed her forehead. "Get used to it. — Monica McCarty

His mouth slid over her jaw and down her throat, her skin as smooth
and sweet as cream. "God, you taste incredible," he murmured, his tongue
sliding a teasing path along the edge of her bodice. "I want to lick every inch of you. — Monica McCarty

He was standing so close to her, all six feet plus inches of masculine strength. So solid and safe. Her valiant protector. It seemed only natural to seek the safe enclosure of his embrace. She ran into his arms, burying her head against the hard wall of his chest. He smelled ... wonderful. Warm. Of leather and pine needles and strength. Savoring the distinctly masculine scents, she closed her eyes. Only then did the tears start to fall. — Monica McCarty

She wanted to inhale him. Devour him.
Lick every inch of his incredible body. — Monica McCarty

His kiss was brutal, punishing, for making him feel like this. He was
desperate. Out of control. Never had he experienced this kind of irrational
urgency. He needed her. Like a starving man needed food. Like a dying man
needed salvation. Now. Before everything went to hell. Before she could change her mind. — Monica McCarty

Taking Flora to his room, rather than any other, amounted to a public declaration of his intentions. She was his, and he was saying as much.
Lachlan didn't give a damn what anyone thought, he wanted her with him. It was as simple as that. — Monica McCarty

His gaze pinned her. "I think you'd better reconsider." Her breath was so tight she barely managed, "Why?" He smiled. "Because I don't think Felton would like having his wife in my bed, and that's where you are going to be." Mary gasped. But he didn't let her reply. He opened the door and left her standing alone in the room, gaping. — Monica McCarty

It seemed she would not be able to ignore her duty; it had just arrived. — Monica McCarty

He was right to fear.
Patrick stood in the shadows, possessed by a rage so intense that it took every ounce of his control not to kill the bastard.
He'd kissed his woman. Touched her. Held her in his arms.
Patrick's fists clenched at his sides. Rage seethed inside him, filling his veins. Building and building until his muscles flexed and burned with the pressure to contain it.
He wanted to be discovered. Wanted the excuse to vent his rage.
Damn the consequences. After what he'd just witnessed, he'd probably lost what chance he had with her anyway. — Monica McCarty

She'd loved him too much and given too much of herself away in the process. She had given him everything and never demanded anything in return. Why was she surprised that when she finally did, he refused? — Monica McCarty

Why was she doing this to herself? She was too young to be locked away in this grim castle, weighed down with responsibility that was not hers
to shoulder. She should be at parties, being feted, dancing, and enjoying
herself. Or be surrounded by bairns. My bairns, he thought fiercely. — Monica McCarty

He gave her everything. Everything but the promise of a future. And she met his dark strokes with a plunder of her own, holding his gaze, raking his soul of its secrets. She knew just what she meant to him. — Monica McCarty

And how do you propose we sort this out?" His voice was wonderfully hoarse.
She smiled, a devilish glint in her eyes. "Oh, I'm sure we can figure something out." Her gaze dropped to the hefty bulge in his pants.
Dear God.
Her mouth suddenly went dry. Her bravado faltered. She wasn't nearly
as confident as she pretended.
Unconsciously, she licked her bottom lip. If possible, the prodigious
bulge seemed to grow a little bigger. He appeared to be in a great deal of
pain, but Elizabeth was discovering that she had a rather ruthless streak
when it came to this man.
She approached him slowly, — Monica McCarty

The next morning dawned cool and clear. The early mist had lifted, leaving a thick layer of dew clinging to the hillsides beyond the castle, shimmering in the morning sun like faerie dust sprinkled over a lush bed of emerald.
Like his eyes. — Monica McCarty

Her eyes heated with the anger and hurt that had been held inside her
for too long. "Your trips to the village have not gone unnoticed."
A look of confusion crossed his too-handsome face. "What does my
going to the village have to do with us?"
"I know there are women
"
He swore and gripped her arm, jerked her up against his chest. "Who
put such nonsense in your head?"
She didn't say anything, her throat hot and tight from the ball of tears
constricting it.
"Finlay," he said flatly. She looked at him in surprise. " 'Tis no secret
that he despises me, but I am surprised that you listened to his venom."
"It's not too difficult to believe. You are a man."
"Aye," he said softly. "But I've not had another woman, Elizabeth."
Her heart faltered. Her eyes shot to his, not daring to believe ... He
cradled her cheek tenderly in his big hand.
"How can I when I want someone else?"
He hasn't been with a woman ... he wants me. — Monica McCarty

He kissed her as if he couldn't get enough of her. — Monica McCarty

You are too kind." Her voice dripped with sarcasm. "But what has marriage to offer me that I don't already have?"
There were many ways to answer that question, but having care for her innocence, Lachlan refrained from the blunt one. One glance at that beautiful face and lush body, and he need look no further for a reason why the lass should be wed: swiving. And lots of it. — Monica McCarty

He stilled for a moment, savoring the sensation of being buried deep inside her, of filling her, of being joined together in God's heavenly embrace. He held her gaze and pushed deeper, shuddering with a wave of pure tenderness. The look in her eyes stripped him to the core. He couldn't move, wanting to preserve the moment, wanting never to forget how it felt to experience perfection. — Monica McCarty

Three weeks was apparently time enough to fall in love, but not long enough to fall out of love. Meg had this unfortunate truth drummed into her head each morning when she woke, hoping this would be the day that she forgot about Alex, this would be the day she could get on with her life and put Edinburgh behind her. She grimaced. Three weeks, three years, it didn't make a difference. She would remember.
Everything. — Monica McCarty

Her body sighed, taking him in as if she'd been waiting for this her
whole life.
Perhaps she had. — Monica McCarty

This smells like shit," MacRuairi said, smearing the black seal grease over his naked skin. They'd bundled their armor and weapons in a pack to keep them dry when they crossed the river. The seal grease would not only help them blend into the darkness, it protected them from the cold December waters.
"You'll be grateful for in in a few minutes." MacSorley grinned. "The water will freeze your bollocks off."
"Which shouldn't be a problem for you anymore," MacRuairi said dryly.
"Damn, cousin, was that a joke?" MacSorley shook his head. "It does snow in hell."
MacRuairi muttered something under his breath as he finished applying the grease. — Monica McCarty

We'll have to fix your shoulder first," MacRuairi said. He turned him around, grabbing hold of the top of his arm. He handed Arthur his dagger. "Ready?"
Arthur put the wooden hilt between his teeth and nodded. The pain was extreme but quick. After a moment, he was able to roll his shoulder freely in the socket. "You've done that before?" Arthur said.
"Nay," MacRuairi said, a rare smile on his face. "But I've seen it done. I guess you're lucky I'm a quick study. — Monica McCarty

The Laird of Coll was undoubtedly a hard man. He didn't smile often, but when he did, it was as if the sun broke through the clouds. And he was smiling right now as she considered his question, knowing very well that she was enjoying herself. — Monica McCarty

Her mouth was right on his ear, and she spoke her wicked thoughts aloud. "I want you inside me."
That was it. With a violent growl, he snapped. "Damn you, Elizabeth. — Monica McCarty

Although, we might want to come up with a different story to tell our children. I don't think 'Father ravished Mummy against a wall so he had to marry her' is exactly the kind of lesson in courtship we want to impart. — Monica McCarty

How could she have reacted like that? She didn't understand what had come over her. She'd felt his passion and her own. It made her anxious. On edge. For something. Something that made her skin prickle whenever he was in the room with her. Indeed, she found it difficult to concentrate when he was
around. He was big and strong and smelled incredible. She wanted to curl up against his chest and never leave. She'd never had such strong urges. But then again, she'd never met a man who made her feel so protected simply by his solid presence and his confident command of everything around him. His strength was strangely soothing. She couldn't remember a time in her life when she'd felt so ... content. — Monica McCarty

Only one man walked with that kind of impatience - as if he was waiting for the world to catch up to him. — Monica McCarty

Again.
Apparently, three broken engagements weren't enough. It was her duty to marry, and marry she must. — Monica McCarty

She entered the hall at the same time he did from the opposite side. With a cry that told her exactly how worried she'd been about him, she raced into his arms.
She could hear the reverberation of his laugh in his chest as he lifted her up and spun her in his arms. Still in his embrace, he set her feet back on the ground and pressed a quick kiss on her lips, the brevity of which she suspected was due to their audience. His voice was low and husky. "Miss me?"
-Kenneth Sutherland & Mary of Mar — Monica McCarty

You're a hard man to love, Lachlan MacRuairi, but I do belive I'm up to the challenge."
"We'll probably argue."
"Aye, it seems likely."
"I have a bit of a temper when I get angry."
"I have noticed," she said wryly.
"I can be a mean bastard. I"ll probably say something to hurt you."
She laughed. "Are you trying to scare me off?"
He gave her a rueful smile. " Maybe."
"Well, stop - it isn't going to work. I'm quite aware of your faults."
He frowned. "I didn't say they were faults. — Monica McCarty

She deserved someone who could see what she had to give and would lover her for it. Who wouldn't turn away from her every time she made a mistake. She wanted to be important to someone. Perhaps, it was unrealistic, but the alternative was far worse. She could live with a broken heart, but not at the expense of her soul. — Monica McCarty

Her eyes widened. "My." She looked at him hesitantly and then bit her lip. "This might be more difficult than I realized. You're a large man, aren't you?" She blushed. "I mean, all over."
He managed to nod. Yes, damn it. And getting excruciatingly larger by the minute. — Monica McCarty

A wave of possessiveness came over him, almost frightening in its
intensity. Mine. The thought of another man looking at her was almost
enough to make him change his mind about leaving. — Monica McCarty

What was she trying to do to him? Was this what being in love was supposed to feel like? Was it supposed to make him feel out of control? Was it supposed to rip him apart, pulling him in two opposite directions? Was it supposed to make him want to tear his hair out in frustration? If it was, he didn't need it. — Monica McCarty