Tracy Anne Warren Quotes & Sayings

My lady, would you care to inspect the menu for dinner? Cook is doing her best to accommodate on such short notice. I believe she plans to serve chicken this evening."
"Oh, actually, chicken will do very well for his lordship, but I shall require a dish without meat."
"Without meat?" the woman repeated, looking even more pinched. "Such as, may I inquire?"
"Vegetables, bread, noodles, soup made without meat stock, cheese, milk, fruit. Anything, really, so long as it is not made from killed meat. — Tracy Anne Warren

Well, if it's an order," she said on a gentle tease, warmed by his words in spite of herself. "You know, for such a cerebral man, you certainly have powerful physical appetites."
His lips curved in a seductive smile. "Of course, I do. I'm a Byron, after all. It's in my blood. — Tracy Anne Warren

Every damsel in distress deserves a hero... — Tracy Anne Warren

It is unfortunate that so many in society choose to see evil where only innocence exists. — Tracy Anne Warren

He set a finger beneath her chin and gently forced her head up so she was looking in his eyes. "Good night, my little Esme. I look forward to continuing this tomorrow. Rest well. You'll need it for everything I have planned. — Tracy Anne Warren

The family name is Landsdowne and I am Gabriel."
"Oh. Like the archangel," she said without thinking.
His eyes crinkled at the corners. "Exactly. Although I've more often been likened to Lucifer, the angel who was cast down to earth. My uncle once suggested I petition Parliament to have my name officially changed so everyone would know me for the devil I am. — Tracy Anne Warren

He moved fractionally closer. As he did, she noticed that her hand was still held inside his. She tugged lightly to free herself.
He didn't let go.
"Lord Northcote."
"Lady Esme," he said, the faintest trace of mocking amusement in his voice.
"You may release me now."
"Oh, I will. After we've sealed our bargain."
"What do you mean by that? I've already consented to marry you."
"Indeed, but aren't you the least bit curious to see if we're compatible?"
An electrical charge, rather like one of her brother Drake's experiments, surged through her as Northcote wrapped his free arm around her waist and tugged her to him. — Tracy Anne Warren

Charles, a footman who had once worked on his father's farm and who loved animals, appeared and came over to help her prepare dishes of boiled chicken and brown rice for the cats and dogs waiting eagerly at their feet.
When guests were staying, Charles often assisted with the care of her furry brood. Without asking, he set to work, even taking a few moments to gather fresh meat scraps for Aeolus, her wounded hawk, and cut-up apple and beetroots for Poppy, a convalescing rabbit who had an injured leg. He gave her several more apple quarters for the horses, who got jealous if she didn't bring them treats as well.
Once all her cats and dogs were fed, Esme set off for the stables, laden pail in hand, Burr trotting at her heels. She stopped along the way to chat with the gardener and his assistant, who gave her some timothy grass, comfrey and lavender to supplement the hay she regularly fed Poppy. — Tracy Anne Warren

I am an artist. I draw things that interest and intrigue me. When I happened upon you there at the lake, I felt compelled to capture your likeness."
A slow smile spread over his face. "So I interest and intrigue you, do I?"
"Only from an artistic point of view, nothing more. You might have been a particularly fine ram or perhaps a goat who had strayed from its flock. You were there, so I drew you."
Gabriel's eyebrows arched, uncertain whether she was playing games with him or not. "I can assure you that I am neither a ram nor a goat, although I have been accused over the years of being randy as one. — Tracy Anne Warren

It is usually easier to see what lies on the surface of a person rather than taking the time and attention to delve deeper. ~ Lord John "Jack" Byron — Tracy Anne Warren

The brutality of war could damage even the best of men. — Tracy Anne Warren

Thank you."
She met his eyes with surprise. "For what?"
"For seeing past my hardened, sinful exterior to the man underneath. For loving me despite my many faults."
"You have no faults, not in my eyes."
"I do, but it kind of you to overlook them."
"As you overlook mine."
"Now, there we disagree, since you are perfection itself," he said. "You are everything that is good and generous and kind, and I thank my lucky stars each and every day that you came into my life. Thank you for saving me, Esme. Without you, I would never have known real happiness. — Tracy Anne Warren

Something about him called to her, like one of her wounded beasts, and she could not turn him away. She needed his name and protection in order to keep from being cast out of Society. But strangely, she realized, he just might need her even more. — Tracy Anne Warren

Without warning, a powerful masculine arm, one that could only belong to Northcote, snaked around her waist and pulled her near. "Every pardon, my dear. I fear I have been neglecting you. I hope you will forgive me."
Leaning down, he brushed a kiss against her cheek; it burned like fire. — Tracy Anne Warren

Claire was de rigeuer even in disgrace. — Tracy Anne Warren

What a child she can be sometimes,' he thought, smiling again at her uninhibited display of enthusiasm as he poured himself a bit more coffee.
Of course, she had been anything but childlike in bed last night, her responses passionate and eager in spite of her initial trepidation. Once he'd managed to overcome her virginal fears, she had turned willing and warm in his arms, becoming as sensual and seductive as a siren of ancient myth. She might be shy and untutored, but she wasn't cold.
No, after last night, he knew there wasn't a cold bone in her entire luscious body. — Tracy Anne Warren

In London, she'd overheard more than one matron decrying what they considered Esme Byron's inappropriate eccentricities, aghast that she was allowed so much personal freedom and the ability to voice opinions they considered unsuitable for an unmarried young woman barely out of the schoolroom. But her family always stood by her, proud of her artistic talent and uniformly deaf to the complaints of any critics who might say she needed a firmer hand.
'What must Ned and Mama be thinking now?' Were they regretting that they had not listened to those critics? Wishing they'd kept a tighter rein on her activities rather than letting her venture out as she chose?
But she would have gone mad being constrained and confined the way she knew most girls her age were. She could never have been borne the suffocating restrictions, the smothering tedium of being expected to go everywhere with a chaperone in tow, or worse, being cooped up inside doing embroidery or playing the pianoforte. — Tracy Anne Warren

He chuckled low in his throat as he slowly eased away, leaving he momentarily confused and bereft, her body keenly aware of the abrupt loss of pleasure.
His eyes gleamed like gold coins. "You taste every bit as sweet as you look, my dear." He skimmed the back of one finger over her cheek. "Maybe this bargain we're making won't be such a bad one after all. — Tracy Anne Warren

Count this as a mere taste, sweetheart, of all the pleasure I can give you. Marry me and let me show you more. Be mine, and I'll take you on a journey the likes of which you've ever only imagined. ~~ Adam to Mallory — Tracy Anne Warren

While I was up there, I happened across a couple of other interesting finds. One , curiously enough, is a portrait of your uncle. Did you put that up there?"
He scowled. "No. Foy and Starr must have done, since I ordered the damn thing burned. I'll tell Bell to toss it on the rubbish heap at his earlier convenience."
"Yes, well, much as I agree with the sentiments, and believe me I do, I suppose we ought to retain the painting in the interest of family history. I could scribble a note and paste it on the reverse saying what a vile man he is, just so future generations know."
He smirked. "Sidney would hate that. Yes, let's do it. — Tracy Anne Warren

W-what was that?" Rather than responding, he lifted a brow, schooling his features into a calmness that hid the violent need still coursing through his body. "I-I mean I know what it was," she went on in a breathless voice that made shivers run down his spine. "But why? Why did you k-kiss me?" She looked utterly and completely bewildered. "Because, my sweet," he drawled in a smooth tone, "you looked as if you needed to be. — Tracy Anne Warren

The chef outdid himself, as one delectable dish after another was brought up from the kitchens. For Gabriel, there was a succulent roast goose with figs and a tender glazed ham, while (Esme) dined on a pair of clever cheese dishes, one made with cream and potatoes and another from Italy that combined cheese-filled flat noodles smothered with a wonderful rosemary butter sauce.
Accompanying all of that was a plentiful array of vegetables, spiced and stewed fruits and freshly baked breads with creamy butter. And for dessert, there was a flaming plum pudding with a cognac whipped cream so strong it threatened to leave her tipsy. — Tracy Anne Warren

Am I so desperate I must accept any gentleman who is not a villain or a gargoyle? — Tracy Anne Warren

Here, I meant to put you at your ease but instead I've got you closed up against me again like a pretty little clam."
He stroked a finger over her cheek and watched the color rise once more beneath her skin.
"Or are you an oyster, hiding your pearls?" He slid his finger across her other cheek, then along her throat. She swallowed convulsively as he moved lower, his fingertip moving in a leisurely downward slide.
"Perhaps I can make it up to you." Bending, he dusted a kiss against her cheek, one side and the other. Then he continued on, planting a line of unhurried kisses against the skin he'd just stroked with his finger.
He heard her breathing quicken and smiled as he pressed his mouth into the curve of her throat. He licked her there in a tiny circle, savoring the fragrant taste of her skin and enjoying the hard beat of her pulse where it throbbed erratically nearby.
He suckled there, sure he would leave his mark. — Tracy Anne Warren

Whatever you do, act as if you meant to do it even if you're sure you look like a fool. — Tracy Anne Warren

She looked beautiful and very innocent, her vibrant blue eyes wide with what he guessed was shock. Her cheeks were stained pink with more of the nerves she hadn't been able to hide during the ceremony. As for her rosy mouth, her lips were slightly parted and ripe for kissing.
'Mine,' he thought primitively. 'Mine to touch and taste and claim at my leisure. — Tracy Anne Warren

To give herself a measure of credible autonomy, she had decided to invent a husband. Then, in a subsequent flash of inspiration, she had just as quickly killed him off. — Tracy Anne Warren

Given in love. Defiled by remorse. — Tracy Anne Warren

Oh, darling, just look at your poor face. You're going to need an herb poultice and a fresh piece of steak for that wound."
"And here I was looking forward to eating dinner, not wearing it on my face. — Tracy Anne Warren

Silence is better than a fabrication. — Tracy Anne Warren

Additionally, Adam's room had an absolutely massive bed with a plump feather tick that she knew they would put to good use.
"Shall we christen it now?" Adam whispered in her ear, his arms stealing around her from behind in spite of the footmen who were still busy bringing up their luggage. Skimming his lips over her cheek, he playfully caressed her nape in a way that never failed to drive her wild. "I could shoo them all out and lock the door. We wouldn't even have to take off our clothes, I could just tumble you down and toss up your skirts. What do you say, wife, shall I tup you now, or would you rather wait until later? — Tracy Anne Warren

Looks delicious," he lied. "A mite crispy along the edges - but then, I like it that way."
Incredulous eyes met his own. "You like your potatoes burned?"
Ah, so he'd been right about that. If he could still recognize what it was she'd cooked, then surely he could eat it. — Tracy Anne Warren

Be careful, little girl. Or else the big, bad wolf might just change his mind and decide to eat you after all. — Tracy Anne Warren

Suddenly a dog burst from the concealment of the trees, its shaggy wheaten coat gleaming warmly in the sun. He was a medium-sized mix of no particular breed, part hound, possibly, or maybe retriever. He seemed well fed, so it was doubtful that he was a stray. Then again, mayhap he was skilled at poaching birds and rabbits from the bountiful reserves of game in the area. — Tracy Anne Warren

Scuse me, my lady," the boy said, "but we thought ye'd want ter know that tha' new stray, the black wot's been hangin' 'bout, looks like she's ready ter have her kittens."
"Abigail?"
"Aye, if tha's wot yer callin' her. She's settled in ter a corner of tha' feed room in the haymow."
"Of course I want to know. I'll go check on her now. While I do, see if you can find a good sturdy box, medium sided and broad; an herb box would do nicely. And some soft blankets and laundered rags. She and her kittens might feel more secure in there for the first few weeks, until at least the babies open their eyes."
"Aye, Lady Esme."
"Oh, bring me a pan of clean warm water too. You never know when there might be trouble during a delivery. I want to be ready to help if need be. — Tracy Anne Warren

She left the room, with her black-and-white kitty, Ruff, Elizabeth, Naiad and Persephone- a spotted gray-and-white shorthair- following on her heels in hopes of getting breakfast. As for her other two cats, she knew they must be out hunting rodents and birds rather than waiting to go down to the kitchens with everyone else.
Burr and old Henry, who had climbed with a stiff gait out of his basket, joined the furry entourage, tails wagging and tongues lolling as they descended the stairs. The Scotties were probably asleep in the nursery, happy to wait to see what tidbits the children would sneak them during their breakfast in another hour or two. — Tracy Anne Warren