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Quote by Elizabeth Hoyt

“And she arched, screaming, the lightning blazing from her center, sparking through her limbs, flying out her fingertips. She was incandescent. He fell atop her, heavy and male, pulling her legs up around his narrow hips, and ground down into her, once, twice. His cock jerked within her and she could feel every muscle in his body tense. He groaned into her ear like a man dying and then fell senseless and limp. And as she followed him into exhausted slumber she heard his single word: Mine.”

Quote by Elizabeth Hoyt

Book:Duke of Sin
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Duke of Sin

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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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“He paused and eyed her as if she were an agate discovered in gravel. "But what a very sharp tongue you have for a housekeeper." Bridget's heart sank- she knew better than to speak so frankly. It was never good for a servant to be noticed by a master- particularly this master. "Come." He beckoned her closer with his forefinger and she saw the flash of a jeweled gold ring on his left thumb. She swallowed and opened her right hand, silently dropping the miniature to the lush carpet. As she walked toward him she nudged the little painting under the enormous bed with the side of her foot. She stopped a pace away from him. His lips curved, sly and sensual. "Closer." She stepped nearer until her plain, practical black linsey-woolsey skirts were crushed against his purple velvet knees. Her heart beat hard and swift, but she was confident her expression didn't show her fear. Still smiling, he held out his hands, palms upward. His hands were long-fingered and elegant. The hands of a musician- or a swordsman. She stared down at them a moment, confused. He quirked an eyebrow and nodded. Bridget placed her hands on top of his. Palm to palm. She expected searing heat or deathly cold and was a little surprised to instead feel human warmth. She'd been hired little more than a fortnight before the duke had supposedly been banished. In that time he had never struck her as human- or humane. "Ah," His Grace murmured, cocking his head with interest. "What feminine hands you have, despite your station in life." His blue eyes flashed at her from under dark eyelashes, a secretive smile playing about his mouth. She met his gaze stonily. His lips quirked and he looked down again. "Small, plump, with neat, round nails." He turned her hands over so that they now rested palms-up in his. "I once knew a Greek girl who swore she could read a man's life story from the lines on his hands." He dropped her left hand to trace the lines on her right palm with a forefinger. His touch sent a frisson along her nerves and Bridget couldn't hold back a shudder.”

HandsVal NapierBridget And ValBridget Crumb
Book:Duke of Sin
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“The duke brought her hand to his mouth and, his azure eyes glittering in the candlelight, pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist. And then the edge of his teeth. She felt the warm softness of his lips, the prickle of against tender skin, and a sort of shock seemed to go straight through the center of her body. He let her go and her wrist felt the cold of night. "Séraphine. The burning one. I should've known.”

Val NapierBridget And ValNicknameLove BiteSeraphine
Book:Duke of Sin
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“I'd take her to the top of the widow's tower at Ainsdale Castle, late at night, and we'd watch the moon rise. The widow's tower was very high but she wasn't afraid. Sometimes I'd steal a pie from the kitchens and we'd picnic up there. I brought up a blanket, too, so she wouldn't have to sit on the bare stone floor." Mrs. Crumb made an aborted movement, as if she'd meant to turn to face him and then changed her mind. He let the wineglass dangle by his side. "I told her a rabbit lived on the moon and she believed me. She believed everything I told her then." "What rabbit?" "There." He roused himself, straightening. He drew back, fitting her against his chest and setting his chin on her shoulder. She smelled of tea and housekeeperly things, and she was warm, so warm. He caught up her right hand in his and traced the moon with it. "D'you see? There are the long ears, there the tail, there the forepaws, there the back." "I see," she whispered. "I told her the rabbit had lavender fur and ate pink moon clover up there." His mouth twisted, as he remembered. "She'd watch me with big blue eyes, her mouth half-open, a bit of piecrust on her dress. She hung on every word." He could hear her breath, could feel the tremble of her limbs. Did she fear him? "D'you believe me?" he asked against her ear, his lips wet with wine. She was a housekeeper and housekeepers didn't matter in the grand schemes of kings and dukes and little girls who wished upon rabbit moons. But she was silent, damnable housekeeper. They breathed together for a moment, there in the night air, London twinkling before them, overhung by a pagan moon. At last she stirred and asked, "What happened to the girl?" He broke away from her, draining his glass of wine. "She grew up and knew me for a liar.”

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Book:Duke of Sin
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“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.”

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Book:Duke of Sin
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“He began on the hidden hooks to her bodice as she stood still, her breasts rising and falling tremblingly beneath his fingers. It was like undressing a wild animal. Or an angel who had consented to stand still for a moment. Any false move on his part might startle her into flight. He smiled into her eyes, aware that his cock pressed hard and hot against the placket of his breeches. Her hair had smelled of earth and her. He was almost loath to replace her essential scent with perfumes. But she was freezing. He'd felt it in the ice of her fingers, in the chill of her cheeks. He wanted her warm. He couldn't let his burning angel's fire go out.”

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Book:Duke of Sin
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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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Book:Duke of Sin
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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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Book:Duke of Sin
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