We have to get out of here, Bram. Before they take our bollocks and use them for pincushions.

Do you know," he said, "there are men who would like very much to see me dead. Powerful men. Obscenely wealthy me. Men who can afford to be patient and engage the services of large, ruthless brutes. I've managed to evade them all. But you...God's truth, I think you'll be the very death of me.

So there’s an . . . an etiquette to raking. Some seducer’s code of honor. Is this what you’re telling me?

She would allow him to comfort her. And perhaps, someday, she would listen patiently if a dark, dreary night found him well in his cups and he drunkenly confessed to still feeling scores of wounds that weren’t his own, but those of men under his command.

Dedication: For librarians and booksellers everywhere, who gather books and build shelters for tender souls.

I have to go," he said. "You don't understand. Someone wants to kill me. "Someone wants to kill you?" she repeated. "Well, I want to make love to you. My goodness, Julian. With two such compelling alternatives, however will you choose?

After spending all of her girlhood fervently wishing she could run away from home— she’d actually done it.