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Quote by Sarah MacLean

“You'll need to prove your worth again. They'll need to see it. To believe I see it." He cut her a look. "My worth is three times that of most respected men of the ton." She shook her head. "I mean your value. As a marquess. As a man." He went still. "Anyone who knows my tale can tell you that I haven't much value as either of those things. I lost it all a decade ago. Perhaps you hadn't heard?" The words oozed from him, all condescension, and she knew the question was rhetorical, but she would not be cowed. "I have heard.." She lifted her chin to meet his gaze head-on. "And you are willing to let one foolish, childhood peccadillo cloud your image for the rest of eternity? And mine as well, now?" He shifted, leaning toward her, all danger and threat. She held her own, refusing to sit back. To look away. "I lost it all. Hundreds of thousands of pounds' worth. On one card. It was colossal. A loss for the history books. And you call it a peccadillo?" She swallowed. "Hundreds of thousands?" "Give or take." She resisted the urge to ask precisely how much was to be given or taken. "On one card?" "One card." "Perhaps not a peccadillo, then. But foolish, to be sure." She had no idea where the words came from, but they came nonetheless, and she knew that her choices were to brazen it through or show her fear.”

Quote by Sarah MacLean

Book:A Rogue by Any Other Name
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A Rogue by Any Other Name

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Sarah MacLean
Sarah MacLean

Sarah MacLean, born on December 17, 1978, is a renowned American historical fiction author. Her works are set in 18th-century England and depict love, power, and adventure of that era. MacLean's novels have gained great popularity among readers and have won numerous literary awards. more

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“What did she say that has you so eager to take a beating?" Bourne ignored the question, the explosion of pain in his cheek not doing its job, failing to take away all thought of what had happened earlier with his wife. Of how her blue eyes had flashed as she'd accused him of using her body to secure his interests. Of how she'd squared her shoulders and defended her own honor- something he should have done for her. Of how she'd looked at him, truth and tears in her eyes, and told him that she'd missed him. The words had taken his breath away- the idea that pure, perfect Penelope had thought of him, had worried about him. Because he had missed her, too. It had taken him years to forget- years that were erased in one moment of honesty, when she'd looked into his eyes and accused him of leaving her. Of dishonoring her. And there, in the pit of his stomach, still unmasked by the pain of Temple's beating, was the emotion he'd feared since the beginning of this charade. Guilt. She'd been right. He'd misused her. He'd treated her as less than she deserved. And she'd defended herself with strength and pride. Remarkably. And even as he'd tried to let her go, to push her from him, he'd known that he wanted her. He didn't fool himself into thinking that the desire was new. He'd wanted her in Surrey, when she'd stood in the darkness with nothing but a lantern to protect her. But now... want had become something more serious. More visceral. More dangerous. Now, he wanted her- his strong, intelligent, kindhearted wife, who became more tempting every day as she shifted and blossomed into someone new and different than the girl he'd met on that dark Surrey evening.”

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“She was running him ragged. Gone was the soft, sweet wife he'd thought he was getting, snow dusting her bonnet as she confessed past courtships, one errant flake landing and melting almost instantly on the tip of her nose as she smiled up at him. And in that woman's place was an Amazon, standing at the center of his club, in the heart of the London underworld, placing bets on roulette while the city watched, demanding the safety of her friends and the reputation of her sisters, and scheduling billiards lessons with one of the most powerful and feared men in the city. And now, she stood in front of him, and bold as brass, suggested he leave her alone.”

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“Answer me, Penelope. Why are you here?" She met his gaze, her blue eyes firm. "I told you. I'm here to play billiards." "With Cross." "Well, to be fair, I thought it might be with you." "Why would you think that?" He would never have invited her to his gaming hell. "The invitation was delivered by Mrs. Worth. I thought you sent it." "Why would I send you an invitation?" "I don't know. Perhaps you'd realized you were wrong and did not want to admit it aloud?”

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“There are few men in Britain who cannot find time to speak to me." "And what of their wives?" "What of them?" "You think they won't judge you?" "I think they all want me in their beds, so they will find room for me in their drawing rooms." Her head snapped back at the words, at their indelicacy. At the idea that he would say such a thing to his wife. At the idea that he would spend time in other wives' beds. "I think that you mistake the value of your presence in a lady's bedchamber." He raised a brow. "I think you will feel differently after tonight." The specter of their wedding night loomed in the words, and Penelope hated that her pulse quickened even as she wanted to spit at him. "Yes, well, however you might ensorcel the women of the ton, I can guarantee you that they are far more discerning in their company in public than they are in private. And you are not good enough.”

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“He reached into her bag of chestnuts and popped one, whole, into his mouth. Instantly, his eyes went wide, and he sucked in a long breath. "Those are scalding!" She should not have taken pleasure in his pain, but she did. "If you had asked for one before simply taking what you wanted, I would have warned you." One of his brows rose. "Never ask. Take what you want, when you want it." "Another rule of scoundrels?" He dipped his head to acknowledge the quip. "It is part of the fun." The words sizzled through her as the memory came- unbidden- of his tossing her over his shoulder on that first night... the night that had changed everything. She raised her chin, refusing to be embarrassed. "Yes, I discovered as much last night at your club when I won at the wheel." His brows shot up, and Penelope was rather proud of herself. A direct hit.”

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“I intend to play. We require a dealer." Michael's gaze snapped to her as Langford sneered, "I will not play cards with a woman." She took the seat at one side of the table. "I usually will not play cards with men who rob children of their inheritance, but tonight appears to be one for exceptions." Cross looked to Michael. "She is incredible." Possessiveness flared as he took his seat, eyes on his wife. "She is mine.”

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