I thought you wanted food," she gasped. "I do," he murmured, tugging on the bodice of her dress. "But I want you more.
Julia QuinnIf he was planning to attack and ravish, he gave no indication of being in a hurry to do so.
Julia QuinnInteresting, he later reflected, was perhaps not the correct word.By the time he and Henry arrived back at the house for their midday meal-a scrumptious bowl of hot, sticky porridge-he had mucked out the stable stalls, milked a cow, been pecked by three separate hens, weeded a vegetable garden, and fallen into a trough.
Julia QuinnIs there anything else I can do to see to your comfort, Miss Trent?" Perriwick inquired. "She's fine," Blake growled. "Clearly, she--" "Perriwick, isn't the west wing on fire?" Perriwick blinked, sniffed the air, and stared at his employer in dismay. "I do not understand sir.
Julia Quinn