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.

The best thing to do if you start thinking such things (falling in love) is to lie down and wait for it to pass. It always does.

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

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.

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

He pulled her back, off balance so that she fell against him, and he took her face in his two hands and held it very still while his eyes looked down into hers. Somber, truthful, painfully honest. "I love you, Chloe," he said. "Which is the most dangerous thing I could do.

You tell anyone that I cried, and I'll cut your liver out." "Do you even know where a human liver resides?"[...] "Yes," she said, and punched him in it.