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“What brings you to Eversea House, Moncrieffe?" Very polite the question, but strain pitched it nearly an octave higher than Ian's usual voice. His nostrils had flared; white lines made dents on either side of them. "Opportunity," Moncrieffe said simply. And smiled the sort of smile that wolves do, when they have their prey neatly cornered.” — Julie Anne Long
What brings you to Eversea House, Moncrieffe?"
Very polite the question, but strain pitched it nearly an octave higher than Ian's usual voice. His nostrils had flared; white lines made dents on either side of them.
"Opportunity," Moncrieffe said simply.
And smiled the sort of smile that wolves do, when they have their prey neatly cornered.