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Quote by Lisa Kleypas

“I shouldn't have spoken to you as I did earlier. For my family, arguing is a sport- we forget that some people tend to take it personally." One of her fingertips drew an intricate little pattern on his thigh. "But I have redeeming qualities," she continued. "I never mind dog hair, for example. And I can pick up small objects with my toes, which is a surprisingly useful talent." Christopher's numbness started melting like spring ice. And it had nothing to do with the Armagnac. It was all Beatrix. God, he adored her.”

Quote by Lisa Kleypas

Book:Love in the Afternoon
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Work

Love in the Afternoon

This book delves into the complexities of love and romance, focusing on the unique dynamics that unfold during the afternoon period. more

Author

Lisa Kleypas
Lisa Kleypas

Lisa Kleypas, born in 1964, is a renowned American romance novel author. Her works are known for their delicate emotional descriptions and captivating storylines, which have won the hearts of numerous readers. more

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“The scent of him was clean, summery, like hot sun and saffron. Her eyes closed as she felt his body press along hers with an intriguing firmness, his knees digging into the billowing mass of her skirts. A minute passed, and another. For the rest of her life she would remember lying alone with him in a bright square of sunlight from the window... the delicious weight of him, the intimate heat of his breath collecting against her neck. She would have lived in that moment forever, if it were possible. I love you, she thought. I am madly, desperately, permanently in love with you.”

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“Ultimately no particular woman had ever seemed all that different from the rest. Until those letters. The sentences had looped around him with a spirit so artless and adorable, he had loved it, loved her, immediately. His thumb moved over the parchment as if it were sensitive living skin. "Mark my words, Audrey- I'm going to marry the woman who wrote this letter.”

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“Additional flowers had been piled into a pair of massive baskets that were strapped across the back of Beatrix's mule, Hector. The little mule led the crowd at a dignified pace, while the women walking beside him reached into the baskets and tossed fresh handfuls of petals and blossoms to the ground. A straw hat festooned with flowers had been tied to Hector's head, his ears sticking out at crooked angles through the holes at the sides. "Good God, Albert," Christopher said ruefully to the dog beside him. "Between you and the mule, I think you got the best of the bargain." Albert had been freshly washed and trimmed, a collar of white roses fastened around his neck.”

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“What do you suppose has happened to Captain Phelan?" Beatrix's older sister Amelia asked, after he had gone missing for three days. "From what I remember of the man, he was a social fellow who would have adored being the center of so much attention." "He's gaining even more attention by his absence," Cam pointed out. "He doesn't want attention," Beatrix couldn't resist saying. "He's run to ground." Cam lifted a dark brow, looking amused. "Like a fox?" he asked. "Yes. Foxes are wily. Even when they seem to head directly away from their goal, they always turn and make it good at the last." Beatrix hesitated, her gaze distant as she stared through the nearby window, at the forest shadowed by a harsh and backward spring... too much easterly wind, too much rain. "Captain Phelan wants to come home. But he'll stay aground until the hounds stop drawing from him." She was quiet and contemplative after that, while Cam and Amelia continued to talk. It was only her imagination... but she had the curious feeling that Christopher Phelan was somewhere close by.”

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Book:Love in the Afternoon
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“Christopher. It seemed the entire world stopped. Beatrix tried to compare the man standing before her with the cavalier rake he had once been. But it seemed impossible that he could be the same person. No longer a god descending from Olympus... now a warrior hardened by bitter experience. His complexion was a deep mixture of gold and copper, as if he had been slowly steeped in sun. The dark wheaten locks of his hair had been cut in efficiently short layers. His face was impassive, but something volatile was contained in the stillness. How bleak he looked. How alone. She wanted to run to him. She wanted to touch him. The effort of standing motionless caused her muscles to tremble in protest. She heard herself speak in a voice that wasn't quite steady. "Welcome home, Captain Phelan." He was silent, staring at her without apparent recognition. Dear Lord, those eyes... frost and fire, his gaze burning through her awareness. "I'm Beatrix Hathaway," she managed to say. "My family-" "I remember you." The rough velvet of his voice was a pleasure-stroke against her ears. Fascinated, bewildered, Beatrix stared at his guarded face. To Christopher Phelan, she was a stranger. But the memories of his letters were between them, even if he wasn't aware of it.”

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“It wasn't that he disliked her. Beatrix was an odd creature, but fairly engaging, and far more attractive than he had remembered. In fact, she had become a beauty in his absence, her gangly coltish shape now curved and graceful... Christopher shook his head impatiently, trying to redirect his thoughts. But the image of Beatrix Hathaway remained. A lovely oval face, a gently erotic mouth, and haunting blue eyes, a blue so rich and deep it seemed to contain hints of purple. And that silky dark hair, pinned up haphazardly, with teasing locks slipping free.”

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“Obviously you have no liking for Prudence," he began, "but if you-" "I've tried my best to like her. I thought if one peeled away the layers of artifice, one would find the real Prudence beneath. But there's nothing beneath. And I doubt there ever will be." "And you find Beatrix Hathaway superior to her?" "In every regard, except perhaps beauty." "There you have it wrong," he informed her. "Miss Hathaway is a beauty." Audrey's brows lifted. "Do you think so?" she asked idly, lifting the teacup to her lips. "It's obvious. Regardless of what I think of her character, Miss Hathaway is an exceptionally attractive woman." "Oh, I don't know..." Audrey devoted careful attention to her tea, adding a tiny lump of sugar. "She's rather tall." "She has the ideal height and form." "And brown hair is so common..." "It's not the usual shade of brown, it's as dark as sable. And those eyes..." "Blue," Audrey said with a dismissive wave. "The deepest, purest blue I've ever seen. No artist could capture-" Christopher broke off abruptly. "Never mind. I'm straying from the point.”

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“Did you come to see my father?" "No, I... came to call on Miss Hathaway." "Are you one of her suitors?" Christopher gave a decisive shake of his head. "You might be one," the boy said wisely, "and just not know it yet." Christopher felt a smile- his first genuine smile in a long time- pulling at his lips. "Does Miss Hathaway have many suitors?" "Oh, yes. But none of them want to marry her." "Why is that, do you imagine?" "They don't want to get shot," the child said, shrugging. "Pardon?" Christopher's brows lifted. "Before you marry, you have to get shot by an arrow and fall in love," the boy explained. He paused thoughtfully. "But I don't think the rest of it hurts as much as the beginning." Christopher couldn't prevent a grin.”

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“Christopher stood facing Beatrix, trying not to gape. And failing utterly. She might as well have been standing there in her undergarments. In fact, that would have been preferable, because at least it wouldn't have seemed so singularly erotic. He could see the feminine outline of her hips and thighs clad in the masculine garments. And she didn't seem at all self-conscious. Confound her, what kind of woman was she? He struggled with his reaction to her, a mixture of annoyance, fascination, and arousal. With her hair threatening to tumble from its pins, and her cheeks flushed from exertion, she was the epitome of glowing female health.”

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