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Quote by Gaelen Foley

“He reached out and gently wiped away a spot of dried mud on her cheek that she hadn't known was there. "If I were as bad as you were led to believe, would I have left my bed last night so you could sleep in peace?" The light touch of his fingertips on her face now, and the memory of how she had writhed beneath his skillful caresses last night brought a scarlet blush to her cheeks. She looked away; he lowered his hand to his side. He was silent for a moment. "You are in no danger, Kate. I am not going to hurt you. I know you are afraid, but look at my actions if you doubt my words. I saved your life, didn't I? That must count for something." She looked up slowly, her gaze skimming the chiseled symmetry of his muscled abdomen and the powerful swells of his chest until she met his steady gaze. The look in his gray-blue eyes seemed sincere, and she desperately longed to believe in him. He might be her only hope.”

Quote by Gaelen Foley

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My Dangerous Duke

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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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“Reaching the bottom of the ladder, she turned around, but had only taken a few steps down the swaying passageway when her path was blocked by a large, formidable silhouette: Rohan stepped out of his cabin and stood waiting for her. He loomed in the darkness ahead as she approached, his angular face cast in shadow, his black shirt hanging open down his sculpted chest. Kate felt an instantaneous awareness of him in her most primal core, but she hesitated before the fevered intensity in his stare. "I-I thought you went to bed." "Can't sleep." She did not need to ask why. Who could sleep after the night he'd had? She stopped in front of him, wondering what to say. His hungry gaze stayed fixed on her, and something in his silvery eyes made her heart begin to pound. "What did you think of what my father said?" "I don't want to talk." As he reached out and cupped her cheek, Kate swallowed hard, but she hardly had to ask what he wanted to do. She could feel the heat of his need coming off him in waves. She drew in her breath as he ran his hand down from her cheek along the side of her neck. He threaded his fingers into her hair, moving closer as he drew her toward him. He bent his head and claimed her mouth, his lips, burning, silken, against hers; she quivered with temptation as he consumed her tongue. The fierce demand in his kiss threatened to overwhelm her. "I want you," he whispered, breathing heavily. His bold advance jarred her somewhat back to her senses. "You must be joking," she uttered, yanking away from him and trying to hide her mad desire behind a mask of self-possession. "I'm not your harlot anymore." "You said you love me. Prove it," he murmured. He captured her hand and brought her palm to his loins, making her feel the massive evidence of his sincerity. She bit her lower lip, striving to reason against passion. Letting her palm linger on his rigid shaft a heartbeat too long, she withdrew her touch, determined to get around him. "Rohan." "Sleep with me," he ordered in a whisper, too proud to beg, but then again, he'd never have to.”

“Rohan took a seat on the old, thronelike chair in the center of the great hall and drummed his fingers on his sword's hilt in kingly impatience. After all, the sooner he finished here, the sooner he could go unwrap his little "present." His eyes gleamed with anticipation as he permitted himself to think about her briefly. Even now, his instincts were wide-awake with a very male awareness of a woman in his house. Waiting for him in his bed. He had wanted her gone from the great hall in case stronger measures were needed to remind his unruly tenants of his authority. He did not wish any female to witness his capacity for violence. Besides, he did not need the distraction of those beautiful breasts clamoring for his attention. He'd get to know them better soon enough, every silky inch of her. His people knew what he liked; he was decidedly pleased with their peace offering. This luscious young token of their apology left him feeling much more disposed to forgive. Indeed, the prospect of spending the next few nights in this abominable stone crypt of a castle suddenly looked a good deal more agreeable. Coming out here to the middle of nowhere, he had expected to have to go without his daily dose of sex, a real inconvenience for a man of his elemental nature. He had a rule, after all, against poaching on the locals. He wanted to be feared, not hated. But, hell, if they were going to offer her up on a silver platter, far be it from him to refuse such a delicious-looking morsel.”

“Her gaze traveled over his beautiful back, that glorious expanse of smooth skin she had caressed so eagerly last night--- to her shame. She wished she couldn't remember at all, for what could be worse than to desire a man who meant one's destruction? Yet she could not deny her awe at his leonine beauty, all dangerous power, his massive, sculpted size balanced by effortless male grace. Her wistful stare followed the sweeping line of his lean sides and stone-carved arms as he warmed his hands beneath the hearth fire. Between his broad shoulder blades, his sable hair hung in a thick, glossy queue. Kate watched a droplet of rain run off his wet hair and roll down his back. As he rubbed his hands together, she was riveted by the complex play of chiseled muscle that flowed through his upper body with the simple motion. She was especially entranced by his fortresslike shoulders and those incredible arms, whose raw strength had saved her life. She looked away, feeling a bit faint. Never in all her days had she seen a physique like that on a man.”

“Kate. You know I'm not going to let anything happen to you, don't you?" Chastened by his patient tone, she met his steady, blue-gray gaze, and instantly regretted her sarcasm. She nodded in reluctance, then looked down at the simple touch that joined them. His right hand gently covered both of hers where they rested, anxiously clasped, on her lap. His hand was so much larger and more hardened-looking than hers. In the silence, she relived those horrible seconds on the cliffside when his right hand, so gentle now, had stopped her from falling to her destruction.”

“You will come back to the castle with me." "I don't belong there. I don't belong anyplace." "You belong with me," he replied without the slightest hesitation. Her chin trembled as she held his gaze. "I-I'm not your responsibility." "Yes, you are. You are mine. They gave you to me, remember? And I want to keep you. Come here," he ordered softly. She lifted her arms and stepped into his embrace without another word. He hugged her close, his heart pounding. "Listen to me. I don't want you to worry for one instant what will become of you, all right? I'll look after you. Whatever you need. You have my word, Kate. You're not alone, do you understand?" he whispered as he held her. After a moment, he felt her nod against his chest. "There's my brave girl," he murmured, brushing a kiss to her forehead. It was at that moment that it dawned on him what he was going to do when they returned to the castle. The thought shocked him as it struck, igniting his heart, even as it filled him with an odd relief. Of course. She was already under his protection. By now, anyone outside the castle no doubt assumed she was already his mistress. They already wanted each other so badly. He saw no reason now not to offer her his carte blanche. Yes. She must become more securely his. It was not his way to keep any one particular mistress to service his needs. But if Kate were his, then he would not have to worry about her, even beyond all this business with O'Banyon. He would know exactly where she was, that she was fed, clothed, protected, and provided for. Admittedly, it might come across as utterly ruthless of him to make such an offer at a time like this---as though he were coldly taking advantage of her at the moment of her greatest vulnerability. But he was not motivated by lust. At least not entirely. Obviously, he could not marry her---not with his curse, and her Promethean blood. But if Kate was his mistress, then he could watch over her, and if anyone ever tried to hurt her again, they would have to deal with him first. Besides, he knew by now how her mind worked. If he were simply to make her a promise of financial help, she wouldn't take it. She was too proud. Hell, with her independent spirit, she would abhor any offer that she interpreted as charity. So, let her work for it. God, he had dreamed of making love to her since that first night when Caleb Doyle had brought her to the castle for that very purpose. Even now, she felt like heaven in his arms. If she was willing, he knew one sure way to comfort her when they got her back to the castle. He could make all her tears and sorrow melt away... Cradling her in his embrace, Rohan pressed another possessive kiss to her brow.”

“Marry me," he said. Her eyes widened. "What?" She nearly fell off the horse. "Marry me, Kate," he repeated. He swallowed hard. "I need you in my life. Please. Say you'll be my duchess." "Rohan..." He took a step closer. "I know I said some boorish, stupid things that day in the music room. You were right. I was scared. I didn't know how it could be between us, but I see it now. And that night on your father's ship, I acted like a brute, telling you to prove your love by sleeping with me. It was wrong." She shook her head. "You needed me." "I did. I still do. I always will. I don't know what I'll do if you say no." He lowered his head. "I know you've reason to be wary. That I can be a thoroughgoing bastard sometimes. I've had too many women in the past, but, God, I don't want that anymore. And it is true, I, er, kill people now and then, but just to safeguard England. And if you can live with that---" He shook his head with a tempestuous fire in his eyes. "On my word, I will be true to you, and I will love you until the end of time." Kate had lost the power of speech. Indeed, she could barely breathe. Tears rushed into her eyes. Lord Byron himself could not have uttered more romantic sentiments. "There can be no other for me, Kate, but you." The Beast walked over and stared hard into the depths of her eyes; sitting on the pony's back, she was on eye level with him for once, and the whole tumult of his soul was there in his eyes, discovering love for the first time, setting his heart free at last. "You... make me feel things I've never experienced before. You've been so patient, and I've been such a fool." "No, you haven't," she breathed, wonder-struck by him. Was this just a dream? "Stay with me always," he implored her in a confidential whisper. "And love me... as I love you." "You---love me?" she echoed, her chin trembling in the most embarrassing fashion. "With all my heart," he vowed in a soft but fierce tone, looking as deeply moved as she. He touched her hair, tucking a windblown lock of it behind her ear. "Kate, you and I were meant to be together. I'm still superstitious enough to know when I have found my destiny. It's you. You're the one who broke the curse.”