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Quote by Elizabeth Hoyt

“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.”

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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“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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Book:Duke of Sin
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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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“There would be repercussions should I not return." Montgomery's eyes widened, blue and guileless. "You see, this is the difference between you and me. When you make a statement like that, you think it will sway me. It doesn't. I. Don't. Care. I could kill you as easily as stepping on an ant and with far less remorse. Perhaps I'd face your repercussions on the morrow. Perhaps not. But that is for the sunrise. Tonight the shadows reign and the blood is singing in my veins. My very muscles tremble with the urge to carve the meat from your bones. Tell me"- he swept wide his arms- "who in this whole dissolute world is to dissuade me from my pleasures?" Standing barefoot in his purple silk banyan, books scattered at his feet in the flickering light of a few candles, still holding that jeweled, curving dagger, he might've been some druidic priest, born before history was written. Before men knew human sacrifice was forbidden. Bridget found herself with her hand on his arm. How it had happened she could hardly think. Had it been daylight, had she been better rested, been better prepared, had at least one cup of tea inside her, she would've had better control over herself. As it was, she was left with the act already done and the duke staring at her with his dangerous, mad eyes. She swallowed, her lips trembling, and lifted her chin. "Don't. Please." He cocked his head as though hearing a new song. Or a sound he'd never heard before at all. Something alien and strange.”

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“When I was a little older, about twelve, I went to work at a nearby house. It was owned by old Mrs. Cromby and oh, I was so homesick! I cried myself to sleep for a fortnight it seemed, until it was my day off and I could go home to see Mam." He frowned at this, not liking to think of his infant housekeeper in tears. "Why did they send you then if you were so upset?" She gave him a look. "Because I needed to learn a trade, naturally. And it was a good position. Mrs. Cromby was very strict but I learned so much from her and her housekeeper, Mrs. Little. How to keep records and how to make wood polish and brass polish and silver polish. When to turn linen and how to store cheese. What cuts of beef are the cheapest and how to bargain down the butcher. How to judge when a fish is fresh and when to buy shellfish and when not to. How to keep moths from woolen and mice from the pantry. How to get wine stains out of white linen and how to dye faded cloth black again. All that and so much more." She drew breath and he looked at her, deeply appalled. "That all sounds frightfully boring." "And yet without that knowledge you'd live in dirty, messy, vermin-infested chaos," she said sweetly. "Mm.”

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Book:Duke of Sin
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“That story I told you as we arrived? About the man who killed the former master of this castle and raped his wife? Did you think it a fairy tale? No, his blood runs in my veins. I was bred to do what I am doing now. Don't fault the viper for striking. It's what snakes do." Her lips trembled, but her eyes were dry, as if she'd already given up hope of persuading him and he did not mourn at all. Not at all. "The blood of that woman who was raped is in your veins, too, isn't it?" Oh, she knew where to hit. "Naturally. But I think it's less apparent, don't you? The story says she was dark and small." She shook her head. "So all that talk of right and wrong- that doesn't matter in the end to you at all?" He hesitated- just for the smallest fraction of a second- because he had always found the question of right and wrong rather fascinating. But then he smiled at her. "Only in the abstract.”

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“It's tempting. I can see why those Ottomans hide their women. If I could, I might dress you in silk- deep-red silk- and put you away where no other man might see you." She turned her head to glare at him, those dark eyes sparking. "I shouldn't like that." He smiled at her fondly, almost sadly. This woman- why did he want this woman so very much? "I know." He sipped at her lips lightly- so lightly. "And yet, as I say, tempting." He caught her lips with his, widening her mouth, tasting red wine and gravy, apples, and her, all her. Bridget, Séraphine, her. Her. Her. Her.”

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