If he was planning to attack and ravish, he gave no indication of being in a hurry to do so.

Any man, you'll soon learn, has an insurmountable need to blame someone else when he is made to look a fool.

This thing between them, this bond—it wasn’t just passion, and it wasn’t wicked. It was love, and it was divine.

And for the rest of the night, he couldn’t quite forget the smell of her perfume. Or maybe it was the soft sound of her chuckle. Or maybe it was neither of those things. Maybe it was just her.

Daphne felt something wild and wicked take hold. “Let’s walk in the garden,” she said softly. “We can’t.” “We must.” “We can’t.

When a man writes a romance, the woman dies. When a woman writes one, it ends all tidy and sweet.

It’s a curse, really,” Lady Danbury said. “I’m the only person I know my age who has perfect hearing.” “Most would call that a blessing.” She snorted. “Not with that musicale looming over the horizon.