Not that I knew who you were until last month. But now that I've got you, I'm not letting you go." "You're not?" Blake stared at her in irritated confusion. What was her game? "Do you think I'm an idiot?" he spat out. "No," she said. "I've just escaped from a den of idiots, so I'm well familiar with the breed, and you're something else entirely. I am, however, hoping you're not a terribly good shot.

But looking beautiful isn't, I think, as important as feeling beautiful.

There,” she said triumphantly. “Like that.” He began to wonder if they were speaking the same language. “Like what?” “That! What you just said.” He crossed his arms. It seemed the only acceptable reply. If she couldn’t speak in complete sentences, he saw no reason why he had to speak at all.

In every life there is a turning point. A moment so tremendous, so sharp and clear that one feels as if one's been hit in the chest, all the breath knocked out, and one knows, absolutely knows without the merest hint of a shadow of a doubt that one's life will never be the same.

A man’s got to keep up appearances. I’ll be universally detested if everyone realizes how perfect you are.

What happened to your face?" Harriet asked. "It was a misunderstanding," Daniel said smoothly, wondering how long it might take for his bruises to heal. He did not think he was particularly vain, but the questions were growing tiresome. "A misunderstanding?" Elizabeth echoed. "With an anvil?" "Oh, stop," Harriet admonished her. "I think he looks very dashing." "As if he dashed into an anvil." "Pay no attention," Harriet said to him. "She lacks imagination.

I shall have one, too," he told her. "So that you don't feel alone." She tried not to smile. "That is most generous of you." "I am quite certain it is my gentlemanly duty." "To eat cake?" "It is one of the more appealing of my gentlemanly duties," he allowed.