He pulled away the glove, and at the first glimpse of her fragile, white hand, all thoughts of negotiation fled. "I don't see how matters could become worse," he muttered. "I am already besotted with a needle-tongued, conceited, provoking ape leader of a lady." Her head jerked up. "Besotted? You're nothing like it. Vengeful is more like it. Spiteful.

Life had a way of wrecking her careful plans, again and again. Roulette was more predictable than life. Small wonder she was so lucky at it.Life was not a wheel going round and round. It never, ever returned to the same place. It didn't stick to simple red and black and a certain array of numbers. It laughed at logic.Beneath its pretty overdress of man-imposed order, life was anarchy.

Silk and Shadows is something else. Like brilliant. It got under my skin as very, very few books have. It's still under my skin. Mikhal was haunting.

I love these pet names," she said, gazing soulfully up into his eyes, "Nitwit. Sap skull. Termagant. How they make my heart flutter!

I can do one or the other. Lovemaking or thinking. But not both at the same time.

That is what I like about you, Mr. Dashwood," she said. "You are so decisive. It saves me the bother of thinking for myself." "That is what I like about you, Mrs. Dashwood," he said. "You are so sarcastic. It saves me the trouble of trying to be tactful and charming.

We've been wed more than a month. Since it appears you mean to stay, I might as well give you leave to call me by my christian name. It is preferable, at any rate, to 'clodpole.