She had the underwear of a thirteen-year-old, as well, he thought. He glanced back at her. But the shoes of a courtesan.

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.

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

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.

She froze. He reached up and took her hand in his, pulling the knife away, making her drop it on the floor. "Show me how much you hate me," he whispered against her mouth. "Prove it to me.

If I am ever in the position where I wish to seduce someone I will simply assure her it’s better than rats.