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Quote by Gaelen Foley

“Trying to keep Rohan out of her thoughts, wondering endlessly if she should apologize for throwing herself at him, she traveled from shelf to shelf, rearranging the books by language, by historical period, by size, as was practical, and above all, alphabetically, by the writer's last name. She had found multiple titles by individual authors scattered willy-nilly through the collection. It made her want to pull her hair out. Obviously!- an individual author's body of work all belonged on one shelf, the works arranged, in turn, by whatever system was most suitable: by volume number, alphabetically by title, or by the year of publication, or, in case of playwrights, works grouped by genre- tragedies with tragedies, comedies with comedies, histories with histories, and so on.”

Quote by Gaelen Foley

Work

My Dangerous Duke

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Author

Gaelen Foley
Gaelen Foley

Gaelen Foley is an American writer born on November 16, 1973. Her works span various literary genres, including novels, poetry, and plays. Foley is beloved by readers for her unique narrative style and profound insights into human nature. more

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“Using the delicate cloth like a handkerchief to protect the brittle pages, she opened the first book she had unearthed: On Dragons. "Oh, how wonderful!" she murmured to herself, gazing at the wildly colored illustrations of giant reptiles, winged and breathing fire. The Chaucerian English was going to take some work to decipher. She would have to see what reference texts she could find in the collection to help her work out the captions, but for now, the pictures fascinated her. The next page showed a silver-armored knight astride a galloping white steed. Armed with a lance, he was shown charging at the hideous, horned dragon that loomed over him, its black, batlike wings outstretched. The knight in the picture had a winged ally of his own, however. In the sky above him hovered none other than St. Michael the Archangel again, her old friend from the duke's family chapel. Come to think of it, she mused, wasn't that white Maltese cross on the little knight's pennant another detail she had noticed in the chapel? She turned the page and stopped at the next colorful picture of a dragon holding its egg in its claws. Some sort of curious symbol was depicted inside the rounded contours of the egg. Kate furrowed her brow and leaned closer, studying the symbol on the dragon's egg. A tingle of faint recognition ran down her spine. I've seen this before. The symbol showed an eight-spoked wagon wheel, with a flaming torch in the center. Beneath the wheel was the Latin motto, Non serviam. Easy enough to translate: "I will not serve.”

“So, what are your thoughts about this symbol, Kate?" he asked mildly. "Well, you see, the picture jarred my memory. Actually, I can't believe that I forgot---but, then again, I was just a wee thing at the time." "Forgot about what?" he asked impatiently. "My mother's book!" He eyed her warily, recalling at once the book he had seen the Count DuMarin's veiled daughter, Lady Gabrielle, holding tightly to her chest on the night she had been handed over into the watchful care of Captain Fox. Rohan had assumed it was a Bible. "My mother brought a book with her from France containing this same symbol!" Kate explained. "It was a big thick tome, with all kinds of strange symbols and diagrams and writings. It had little maps and puzzles of different sorts figure out. Back when I was a little girl on my father's ship, my parents were constantly poring over it." He frowned. "Rohan, it was all about Valerian the Alchemist!" she exclaimed. "I don't know if the book was by him or simply written about him, but it contained clues to the secret location of his tomb. They were on a treasure hunt!" He narrowed his eyes. The Alchemist's Tomb? But it had passed into legend long ago. "Alchemy---you know!" Kate was saying excitedly. "Changing base metals into gold? There was supposed to be a horde of hidden treasure buried with him.”

“She drew his warm, oversized robe closer around her body, suddenly feeling lost, not knowing how to act. "Well, go get dressed," he ordered with a lordly little smile as he noticed her wavering. "How's a man to think with a luscious naked woman lying around? You, my dear, are far too distracting." His smoldering gaze, so full of desire for her, thrilled Kate to the marrow. His glance alone could warm her blood on this cold winter's day.”

“In light of his own new acquaintance with Kate, Rohan suddenly did not find Max's romantic agonies several months ago quite so droll as he had at the time. But he chased Kate fiercely out of his mind once again, determined that they should detect no change in his demeanor. And she had changed him. He knew it down to the core of his barbaric soul. She made him... what was that foreign word---? Oh, yes. Happy.”

“When he reached the music room, he leaned in the open doorway for a moment and smiled as he studied the alluring arrangement of his darling mistress reclining on the light green settee. Dressed in a pink gown with striped satin skirts, Kate was idly thumbing through her mother's book, open on her lap. She had loosed her soft brown hair; it flowed over her shoulders in crimped waves from her earlier chignon. "There you are," he greeted her with a glow of appreciation in his eyes. "And don't you look pretty as a picture.”

“Kate still was not used to all the attention, but she was told from those in the know, that from the first whispered rumors of their secret marriage, she had charmed the ton. The Society pages praised the excellent taste of her enormous wardrobe; the hostesses of the aristocracy were pleased with her French noble blood; and at the ball the Rotherstones had given in her and Rohan's honor a few weeks ago, the ton's haughtiest dandies, the cruelest arbiters of taste, had pronounced her the rarest of finds: a great beauty with a sharp mind, a spirited wit, and a bold sense of style. In short, she had been proclaimed "all the kick.”