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Quote by Elizabeth Hoyt

“He looked down at her sleeping form. Her hands lay like half-opened flowers on her lap, one cupped within the other. Such sturdy little hands, meant for practical work. Her fingers were rather plump. He smiled at the thought. He held his own hand over hers, comparing. His fingers, long and elegant, dwarfed hers, and yet he found he preferred hers. He let his hand fall to his lap. She wore that dreadful mobcap, hiding both her hair and her face from him, and he wanted to pluck it from her head. But to do so would disturb her sleep. He cocked his head, considering the conundrum. He found, on the whole, that he didn't wish to disturb his housekeeper's sleep. It felt... nice to have her lying so trustingly against him. If he listened very intently he could hear her breaths. After a bit he breathed with her. In and out. In... and then out.”

Quote by Elizabeth Hoyt

Book:Duke of Sin
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Duke of Sin

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Author

Elizabeth Hoyt
Elizabeth Hoyt

Elizabeth Hoyt, born in 1970, is a renowned American romance novel author. Her works are known for their delicate emotional descriptions and captivating storylines, which have won her a large following among readers. more

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“Let me help you rinse your hair." His voice had deepened and it made a shock go through her, low in her belly. He rose and crossed to where a pitcher stood on the hearth. She didn't turn, but she could hear him moving behind her, and it struck her that she'd seldom been waited upon before in her life- and never by a gentleman. "Sit a little forward." He was suddenly close. "Close your eyes and tilt your head back." The water flowed over her scalp, warm and soothing, but her skin was prickled with goose bumps nonetheless. "Once more, I think," he said, his voice so near, his hands large and sure, and he poured again. "There." She sat back, wringing the water from her hair with fingers that trembled. She could hear him setting down the pitcher and she wasn't sure what to do. This was so far outside any experience she'd ever before had or imagined... Bridget cleared her throat, but her voice was husky when she spoke. "Can you hand me a cloth for my hair?" "Let me." He expertly wrapped a cloth around her head, keeping her clean hair out of the water. "Now you look like an Ottoman sultana." His fingers lingered on the back of her neck, stroking. She closed her eyes, feeling her nipples throb. Oh, God, he'd barely touched her yet. She inhaled and tried to smile, but found she was too tense. "Is... is there another cloth with which to dry myself?" The fingers left as he reseated himself, his cheek propped on his knuckles. "But you haven't washed yourself, sweet Brid-get." He snapped off the t of her name with a click of his tongue. "I'm sure you wouldn't want to miss..." His gaze seemed to penetrate the now-clouded water before rising and meeting her own eyes with a devilish gleam. "Well, everything.”

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Book:Duke of Sin
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“She knelt in the mud and tried to pull the cord from his neck, but it had been tied terribly tight and her hands were trembling. She felt the duke crouch behind her, his arms reaching around her, warm and hard, and felt a moment's confusion before he leaned forward and murmured in her ear, "Here." He placed her opened chatelaine knife in her hands. She took it gratefully. "Thank you." Carefully she cut the cord and picked up the little dog, his body warm and rather smelly in her arms. The terrier immediately began licking her chin. Bridget inhaled on a sob, even as she felt the brush of the duke's tongue at the corner of her eye. "Your tears taste like salvation." His voice was deep, resonating against her back, and he almost sounded puzzled.”

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“The current is harsh, but gracious... It disciplines as with rod and staff and protects us all the same. Its flow is unpredictable, yet so methodically planned that even the angels in heaven cannot know its end but when they see it they cry out, 'hallelujah, praise be, for such was the plan from the beginning.' What joy that we should be held in its mercy and in the love of its reproach, keeping us adrift on the way everlasting. The Good Lord's eye is on the sparrow, so I know He's watching over us.”

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“She would've sworn the cat- or kitten, for it sounded quite small- was right in front of her, but there was nothing there. She straightened and glanced at Val. His azure eyes were alight with amusement. "Phantom cats and ghostly kittens." She frowned at him. "I don't believe in ghosts." "Boring." He kissed her on the nose and, while she was still blinking in surprise, leaned down and did something to the back of the cupboard. Suddenly one of the boards came away in his hands. She leaned down again to look. Staring back at them was a ginger cat, her green eyes wide, and at her teats were a row of wriggling kittens in a rainbow of colors. She was curled in the small space of what was evidently a false back to the cupboard. "But how did she get in?" Bridget breathed, enchanted. The kittens were at that wee fluffy stage and absolutely adorable. "Magic," Val said promptly, and then, more prosaically, "or the back of the cupboard's rotted away.”

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“Come," he said gently, for he knew she'd been through travail. "I sought you out amongst your labors to bend my knee and plead that you leave the dust and spiders and mouse droppings to come and lounge awhile and perhaps partake of luncheon." Interestingly, she blushed. "I can't do that," she hissed under her breath. "Why not?" he asked, deeply diverted by her reaction. "The other servants." He blinked. "I assure you, I do let all my servants partake of luncheon." "But if I am with you..." Her blush deepened. He cocked his head, studying her, entirely baffled. "I didn't mean luncheon as a euphemism; however, I'm entirely happy to adjourn to my rooms right at this moment if that is-" "No," she said with what some might take as unflattering emphasis. She rolled her eyes as if he were the one being difficult, which, to be fair, he often was. "Let's go have luncheon." He smiled. "Splendid!" She looked at him a little shyly. Absolutely enchanting. "I'm dusty. I'll go wash first and meet you in the dining room, shall I?" He bowed with a flourish. "I await your presence." She looked flustered at that and he was very tempted to perhaps lean her up against one of the tables and-”

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“For a moment all was silence, save for her breathing. Triumph raced through Bridget's chest. At last! Then she heard a masculine chuckle behind her. Bridget froze, ice sliding down her spine. The sound could be nothing else, not the wind or a creaky house or even a mouse in the walls. She turned, pushing the panel shut with her shoulder, and palming the portrait as she did so. The Duke of Montgomery, all golden hair and sharp blue eyes, and wearing a purple velvet suit, smiled at her from the armchair in the far corner of the room. "A lovely woman in my bed, what a fetching surprise." He cocked his head, a corner of his beautiful mouth curving cruelly. "Tell me, Mrs. Crumb, what are you looking for?”

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“And this"- the duke stroked the mound beneath her thumb- "do you know what this is called?" Bridget cleared her throat, but her voice emerged a bit rusty nonetheless. "I could not say, Your Grace." "The Mount of Venus." He arched his eyebrows at her. Devastatingly beautiful. Lethally charming. "My Greek girl told me that this foretells how passionate a woman may be. You, Mrs. Crumb, must have untold depths of sensual need within you." She narrowed her eyes at him. He bent and bit the base of her thumb. She gasped and snatched her hand away. The duke laughed and sat back, smoothing his bottom lip with his beringed thumb slowly.”

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“His azure eyes suddenly dropped to pin her, hard and merciless, and she lost her breath as she fell into his predator's stare. It was like looking into the eyes of something inhuman, almost otherworldly. Her chest ached as she stared at him, the air still locked within her, but at the same time the place between her legs ached as well. She was suddenly made very aware that beneath the starch of her apron, the wool of her dress, and the bone of her stays, she had soft nipples that had tightened into points. Then she inhaled, filling her lungs with sweet air, as he watched her still, his eyes half-lidded, and she felt an odd exhilaration, as if a gauntlet had been thrown down. As if they were adversaries, equal on the field.”

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Book:Duke of Sin
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