Quotes & Sayings About Medieval Romance

In a heartbeat, he scarcely could take a breath.
Wearing not a stitch of clothing, Eva stood in thigh-deep water with her back to him.
Before he blinked, his gaze slid from coppery tresses brushing feminine shoulders to a tiny waist which fanned into glorious heart-shaped buttocks. Heaven's stars, her flawless skin had to be as pure white as fresh cream.
God on the cross, save me.
Christ, he was only a flesh and blood man. Who on earth could resist such a temptation? He clenched his teeth and growled. Frigid water or nay, he lengthened like a stallion catching scent of a filly in heat. God's teeth, even his ballocks turned to balls of tight molten steel. — Amy Jarecki

Do not push me," she warned in a shaky voice.

"Och, but I will." He shifted on his booted feet, pushed his hips harder against hers, until she felt a part of the wall. A part of him. "You lifted a blade to me, Katarina. I'm going to push you hard. — Kris Kennedy

It took a long moment, but Gerard finally raised his head and looked Jon in the eye. It meant that I have not been honest with you, Jon Calder, and if you are to understand the danger you are in now, I must tell you everything, no matter if you believe me or not. — Hank Edwards

She ... grabbed her bra, clasping it and shoving her arms through.
"Ye harness your udders?" The man was insufferable.
"For your information, it's a bra - short for brassiere, something that wasn't invented until the twentieth century. — Amy Jarecki

...she felt safe with Nicolo, and feared nothing. — Mirella Sichirollo Patzer

Ah, cariad, finally I have you to myself, with a bed behind me, and what do I do? — Angela Quarles

At least I'm the one leaving. It's so much easier to leave than to be left. — Stefan Emunds

Why is he following me? Why are you following me?" He grabbed her arm. "D'Sayre is trying to learn your secrets. Me? I just want a kiss." He pulled her into his embrace and pressed his lips to hers. — Laurel O'Donnell

Close your mouth Lily, you look like a codfish."
"I can't help it. This place looks like something out of medieval times. I'm surprised there aren't rushes on the floor or half-dressed serving wenches carrying trenchers of food."
"Read Harlequin much?"
"Shut up. There's nothing wrong with romance novels. You could learn something from them you know."
Sean's mouth curved into a slow, seductive grin. He let his fingers drift casually along the side of her arm, deliberately grazing the edge of her breast. "Could I now? — Marianne Morea

Before we light the Yule log, I want to give you this. You have been a very good girl this year, and a wonderful daughter." He held something out to her. Jaclyn hadn't noticed he was carrying anything. She looked down to see he was holding a branch with green leaves and white berries. She gasped, "It's beautiful!" and took the branch from his hand. "The berries reminded me of the winter snow," her father said softly. Jaclyn nodded. "But the green leaves belong in the summer!" She looked up at him. "The trees have long since lost their leaves. Where did you find it?" "I had to travel very far to find it." he told her, leaning in to add, "It's magical. — Laurel O'Donnell

Faintly he smiled, but his voice was hard. "Lass, you do not want what I have." As if to prove it, he overturned his hand and dragged a calloused thumb roughly across her bottom lip.

All the breath came out of her in a hot rush. "Oh."
~From THE KING'S OUTLAW, part of the Captured by a Celtic Warrior anthology — Kris Kennedy

It's not the Mistletoe Knight that these knights are coming for. It's the girl. Lady Jaclyn." "The girl?" Blaise echoed. "She is rumored to be the fairest in the land. Most of these men have come in hopes of winning the land, not for the castle, but for the woman. — Laurel O'Donnell

Here, sleep with your back against me. I shall protect you better this way."
She nodded, shuffled closer, and leaned back against him. Her unique womanly scent washed over him, and he fortified his resolve, though having her so close on a bed of furs fired his blood. She dragged her fur up, and he draped his extra across, tucking it in around her shoulders and arms.
"I do not fancy having one of them lying next to you. Besides, I wish not for your pinkie to wander. — Angela Quarles

The world eclipses and it's just her and him. No it's just her eyes and his soul. Her eyes expose and violate him, she turns him inside out. Then, her eyes drop him like a boring toy. — Stefan Emunds

From here to Jerusalem no woman has a more beautiful neck;
it was smooth and soft to the touch.
She had a bosom as white has the snow upon a branch,
when it has just fallen.
Her body as well made and svelte;
you would not have had to seek anywhere on earth to find a woman with a more beautiful body.
She had a pretty chaplet of gold embroidery. There was never a girl more elegant or better arrayed;
nor would I have described her right. Above the chaplet of gold embroidery was one of fresh roses, and in her hand she held a mirror,
and she had arranged her hair with a rich head-band. — Guillaume De Lorris

My final historical romance came out December 2005. While I enjoyed writing medieval romances, I was also dying to write something with more edge. — Tina St. John

Under the sanctuary are the catacombs where the dead wait for resurrection. The living do not venture there. The caverns here underneath the Sanctuary are illuminated only by dim shafts of light from the sanctuary. The walls are etched with flowers of frost, but at least I am out of the wind. Dark bays line the hall in front of me, a vast rabbit warren, each hold filled to the brim with the scent of the past. — Ned Hayes

Then you are no longer afraid of death, Your Majesty?" the lady asked, awed at the queen's adventures. "No, I am no longer afraid of life. — Constance Jagodzinski

He dragged his lips up the soft skin of her neck and gently nipped her ear lobe, sipping on the soft flesh. Her hands splayed against his chest.
Expecting a shove, his senses careened when her fingers fisted his surcoat. Their ragged breath overloud in the forest, he eased his face away, nose rubbing against her jaw on his retreat, and sought her eyes. Hers darkened and - Lord help him - held no censure, only interest.
He stepped back. — Angela Quarles

The world is an ambitious business. It continuously expands and evolves. But people are lazy and God is far too lovely to do something about it. — Stefan Emunds

He grinned: he'd turned in time to witness her delicate white shoulders dip below the water's surface. Thankfully, she quickly completed her morning's ablutions and made a shooing motion with her hands. Back turned again, he waited for her to dress, all the while telling his privy counselor to cease its repeated suggestions. — Angela Quarles

Barely able to breathe, Eva's tongue slipped across her lips.
He moved a bit closer. "Every time ye walk past, I want ye. Your scent sends my insides into a maelstrom of need."
She closed her eyes and drew out the moment, wishing he'd say that again. Oh, how delectable to listen to a medieval Scotsman declare his desire. — Amy Jarecki

I'm not a saviour," he said.
She, of all people knew no one was and that she didn't deserve one.
"I'm not asking you to be. — Nicole Locke

She was so lovely, it hurt his chest to gaze at her, especially knowing she was courageous and clever too. — Melanie Dickerson

His warm breath, smelling of clean spice, stroked her cheek and ear. A thrilling shiver coursed over her, the wound on her arm only a minor sting. Then his lips - those full, sensuous lips - grazed her jaw and the soft spot behind her ear, the hairs of his beard brushing her sensitive skin. Her shivers locked her muscles tight. A bolt of tantalizing heat shot down her center.
He leveraged closer, all that warrior brawn pressing hard against her side, linen rasping over skin, an exquisite feeling.
Yes. This. — Angela Quarles

For a moment in time she had been a lady, someone who was wanted ... — Melanie Dickerson

If you die fighting, I want to die fighting with you. — Melanie Dickerson

Waiting for one's execution is worse than dying. To seek my beheading is glory. Who went to his execution willingly? Jesus did. Jesus even dragged his cross half way to Golgotha. I think he would have nailed himself to the cross if he had to. — Stefan Emunds

Her pinkie took matters into its own, er, pinkie, and moved oh-so-slightly, grazing his skin. His pinkie, judging by the shape and texture.
Blood rushed and pounded through her veins, flushing her skin. This could not, in any way, be explained as an accidental touch. But he could feign sleep if he wasn't interested. Did she want him to do that?
What was she doing?
She commanded her pinkie to drop, and thankfully, it obeyed.
A jolt shot through her as his finger made a query, and the need clarified. The need represented her desire for some measure of control. Control over her general situation. Control over her attraction. She answered with a gentle finger stroke along his calloused, warm skin.
A sharp breath pierced the dark air. — Angela Quarles

Sara loved Nicolo's quiet affection far more than the yearning and lust she saw on Umberto's face. — Mirella Sichirollo Patzer

You will be the death of me, woman. — Angela Quarles

Once again I felt light-headed, but this time it wasn't from the scent of lilacs; it was from the scent of my own death. — Peter David

The pulse visible in the pale column of her neck vibrated faster, her intoxicating scent washed over him, and he was dizzy with lust.
Even through his mail and gambeson, he could feel her womanly curves crushed against his hard chest. He uncurled his fingers from her throat and ran the tough leather of his palm's mitten along her neck and to the enticing curve of her shoulder. He nudged her mantle an inch, exposing skin.
He cursed that his hand was covered in mail. How long had he wanted to taste, to touch her precious skin? Unable to resist, he bent and, with his tongue, touched, tasted the heat of the skin on her collarbone.
Oh, Christ, she was lovely. She shivered, and satisfaction roared through him. — Angela Quarles

Wake up! You're a sacred soul and glory is yours for the taking. — Stefan Emunds

he said this turning his strong body to face the beautiful, stunning, breathtaking, astonishing, bewildering girl who was a princess and his one true love, Eodwyn. she had hair like raven wings and skin like snow that the dogs haven't peed on yet and cheeks like cherry blossoms and eyes like a magnificent summer sky. — J.K. Ashton

She flapped her hands, anxious energy coursing through her. "How can you be so calm?"
He got to his feet, unfolding with an easy grace. He held out a hand, his dark eyes focused solemnly on hers. "Come with me."
"For what?"
"That's part of the lesson." Was it her imagination, or did a twinkle of humor stir in those eyes? "Center yourself, and grab onto the here and now."
That made no sense - what was he now, Sir Medieval Zen Master? But she slipped her hand into his strong, calloused one. He hauled her up until she bumped into his chest. With a finger under her chin, he tilted her face until she looked in his eyes.
"Listen to the world around you. Hear the birds? Hear the small animals scurrying? You are in this moment, this moment only, and sometimes that's all you can do, all you can be." His finger pulled away, brushing against her skin, and he tapped her nose, stepping away. — Angela Quarles

Nothing to say. I used to be a ghostwriter for a publisher.'
'Medieval stuff?'
'Eighty-page love stories. You have this guy, untrustworthy but good in bed, and this girl, radiant but innocent. In the end they fall madly in love and it's incredibly boring. The story doesn't say when they split up.'
'Of course not,' said Mathias — Fred Vargas

She led them to their pallets, again encircled by other pallets. She sat down, sighing at her aching muscles, and caught his gaze. "You may, er, wrap your arms around me if that will make you feel I am safer."
He chuckled--a hoarse chuckle, rusty, but a chuckle nonetheless. She'd take it.
"May I indeed?" He lay beside her and pulled her back against him, settling her head on his arm, bunching the other hide up to use as a pillow. "If I must." His warm sigh tickled across her neck. "After all, I must ensure that pinkie does not wander."
Would Robert never let her forget that? — Angela Quarles

You are charismatic. Men are drawn to you. I am drawn to you. And by your size, let alone your skill with weapons, they will be in awe of you. — Amy Jarecki

Contemporary fantasists all bow politely to Lord Tennyson and Papa Tolkien, then step around them to go back to the original texts for inspiration
and there are a lot of those texts. We have King Arthur and his gang in English; we've got Siegfried and Brunhild in German; Charlemagne and Roland in French; El Cid in Spanish; Sigurd the Volsung in Icelandic; and assorted 'myghtiest Knights on lyfe' in a half-dozen other cultures. Without shame, we pillage medieval romance for all we're worth. — David Eddings

What was once your crown will now be your collar, and you will wear it until you learn what it is to submit. — Ava Sinclair

Ulric rushed forward to the pile as soon as the spikes were out of his way. The seneschal's wider frame lumbered with the effort it took him to kneel and he grunted under the strain. Swiping the sleeve of his brown tunic across his forehead, Ulric placed his arm before his nose as he leaned closer to the pelts.
Impatient, Vladamir watched Ulric pick through the skins. He followed silently behind, refusing to sheath his sword. The seneschal sat straight up in surprise.
"M'lord, it would appear to be a maiden amongst these pelts. Methinks I see the entrails of a rabbit in her hair," Ulric yelled through the sleeve of his tunic. — Michelle M. Pillow

Knowing this was the same man from last night now clad again in his hunky knightly armor was a strange aphrodisiac. Yeah, a hot look, no denying. — Angela Quarles

He opened his eyes to half-cast. With a low rumble he lifted her onto his hips. "Take me to heaven, lassie. For no one but ye can cool the fire thrumming in my blood. — Amy Jarecki

I beg your pardon. Sometimes, it's true I can be stubborn.'
'Sometimes?' she added derisively.
'Quite often,' he tempered. — S.N. Lemoing

It was a kiss that slowed down as it went, a great, long adoring kiss, Tadhg slanting his mouth first to one side, then the other, drowning her in the unyielding, unstoppable claiming of his kiss. — Kris Kennedy

I see who you are. You see only who you fear you might become." - Maggie to Tadhg — Kris Kennedy

This was raw. This was primal. This was real. — Angela Quarles

I guess it really had been brave . . . because it was so bugger-all stupid, and if there was one thing I'd come to realize, ti was that bravery and bugger-all stupidity went hand in hand. — Peter David

This is the last time we run, lass, I swear it," he vowed hoarsely, grabbing her hand. "But this time, we have to run like hell." - Tadhg to his Maggie — Kris Kennedy

He leaned his head against the rock. Christ, when was the last time he'd seen the humor in life? And now, of all places, in an enemy camp, with a strange woman who made him burn. Burn with desire. Burn with need. A desire and need not only for her and her body, but for something he couldn't quite name. — Angela Quarles

Unbridled passion with an incredibly hot seven hundred-year-old Highlander in the middle of the night? Mm Yeah. Bring it on. — Amy Jarecki

Honor is a balancing act and only the heart can strike that balance. — Stefan Emunds

It is dangerous to become attached to a du Lac. He will break your heart, and you will not recover. — Mary Anne Yarde

She needed a distraction. "Was that your mother?"
The splashing stopped. "Are you going to converse while I bathe?"
"Why not?"
"Feels rather unseemly."
She laughed, picturing him sitting there, shocked and indignant. "We're supposed to be married, right?"
"You have a point, however I would rather not discuss her right now."
"I think you're evading me."
"Mayhap. Is it working? — Angela Quarles

I love you enough to keep you from dying with me... ~ Dane de Falaise — Gayle Mullen Pace

Because you are..." Her words faded. What was he? She still remembered his kiss and her gaze dropped to his lips. Their relationship had changed. He used to be a friend, someone who shared a past with her and her family. But now, he was more than that. Every time she saw him, her heart did a strange flutter. She shook herself. He was an opponent. She should view him as she did Blaise. But she couldn't. She didn't want to. She longed to confide in him. But it was so dangerous. "Brilliant?" he encouraged her to continue. "Wise beyond my years?" His smile was contagious. Jaclyn rolled her eyes and turned. "And here I was going to say a good kisser. — Laurel O'Donnell

Do I perceive a softening in your heart for me, damoiselle?" He laughed at her scowl. "Beware maid. I will tell you true. After you will come another and then another. There are no strings that can tether me to any woman. So guard your heart."
"My lord, you greatly exaggerate your appeal," she replied indignantly. "If I fell anything for you, 'tis hatred. You are the enemy and you are to be despised as such."
"Indeed?" He smiled slowly into her eyes.
"Then tell me, damoiselle, do you always kiss the enemy so warmly? — Kathleen E. Woodiwiss