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.

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

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

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.

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.

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.

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