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“A fast but skillful driver, Peter guided his Jaguar onto the M6 Highway, then accelerated to a dizzying speed. Thank goodness she'd seen something of the scenery on her way to Scotland, Toni reflected, as the landscape passed in a blur of greens and blues and tans. She managed to stay alert until they passed York, at which point her eyelids refused to stay open. She felt her body sinking lower and lower into the leather upholstery until finally she could fight the drowsiness no longer.”

Quote by Jessica Eliot

Book:Home to the Highlands
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Home to the Highlands

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Jessica Eliot

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“Séraphine." The whisper in her dreams and Bridget whimpered and tried to bat it away. She needn't wake yet. It wasn't time to rise. She had hours still. A soft chuckle and the brush of something soft on her cheek. "I would never have guessed you were such a deep sleeper, my practical housekeeper." She had a terrible foreboding, an awful suspicion, even in her dreams, and she fought valiantly through the sluggish waves. Bridget opened her eyes, blinking, in the candlelight, to find azure eyes only inches from her own. They crinkled at the corners. "There you are.”

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“She flew in, all fiery flashing eyes and flushed cheeks, her bosom heaving beneath black wool. She was magnificent. "Tell them to let her go!" Séraphine ordered him imperiously. "Tell them to let her go right now." She stood over him, her lips wet, her body shaking with her rage, and he wanted to take her and roll her beneath him and fuck her into the mattress.”

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“He met Caire's eyes. "I hope we can finish this soon. I left your sister in my bed." St. John swore under his breath and stepped between them, facing Val. "Are you insane?" "Many think so,." Val was watching Caire, his lips twitching. Caire hadn't moved. Only his eyes, hard and staring and trained upon Val, showed that he'd heard Val's words. Those eyes burned a bit like Séraphine's, Val mused, and he wondered if the other man truly meant to kill him this morning. Well, he would certainly try.”

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“Why then was he taking her? Was it merely for his own amusement- or was it for some other, more sinister reason? After all, only two days before she'd seen him kill a footman in cold blood. Of course Cal had tried to kill the duke in a particularly awful and vicious way. But then afterward the duke had kissed her as she'd never been kissed in all her life. His tongue had tasted of wine and sin and she'd wanted to moan and rub herself against him as he'd tilted her back over his arm.”

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“Val set Séraphine before the roaring fire, but kept his hands on her because he'd learned his lesson well... and also because he liked his hands on her. She glanced at the steaming bath and suppressed another shiver. "I should leave if you're about to take a bath." "Why?" he asked as he slipped his sadly ruined purple velvet coat from her shoulders. It had cost more than she'd probably make in a lifetime and now stank of bacon and horses, thanks to her. He threw the sodden thing in the corner. "You'll want your privacy," she replied nonsensically. He looked into her dark eyes, amused, as he unhooked her chatelaine and laid it on a table. "When have I ever wanted privacy?”

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“He started for the door, thinking of crimson velvet and burning eyes- and a woman's face swam into view. Ah. A quarry. A victim of his plots and of his villainy. He diverted his course, intercepting the woman. She was on the arm of an older man, her father. Val swept her an abrupt bow. "Miss Royle. Sir." Hippolyta Royle was the only daughter of Sir George Royle, who had gone to the East Indies to make his fortune and had done quite a good job indeed. The result was that Miss Royle had a dowry with few rivals in England. "Your Grace." The lady's face, oval and proud and naturally olive-complexioned, paled at the sight of him. Actually, he was rather used to that sort of reaction to his sudden appearance. Blackmailer, and all. He took her hand and brought it to his lips, peering over her knuckles. Her fingers were trembling. "Might I have the pleasure of this next dance, Miss Royle?" Oh, she wanted to deny him, he could tell. Her full berry-red lips were pressed together, her dark brows gathered. The lady did not look entirely happy. A state of affairs that didn't escape her father. "My dear?" She patted the elderly man's hand. "It's nothing, Papa. It's just so hot in here." "Then perhaps if we venture close to the windows-" "Oh, but I insist on a turn on the floor," Val purred, his pulse racing, his nostrils flared. If she darted for cover he'd spring and sink his teeth into her. She was prey- his prey, and he'd not let her go. She was a prize and he'd parade her before all.”

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