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Quote by Lisa Kleypas

“Eversby Priory has survived four hundred years of revolutions and foreign wars," he heard Kathleen say contemptuously, "and now it will take but one self-serving rake to bring it all to ruins." As if he were entirely to blame for the situation. As if he alone would be accountable for the estate's demise. Damn her to hell. With effort, Devon swallowed back his outrage. Deliberately he stretched out his legs with relaxed indolence and glanced at his brother. "West, are we quite certain that Cousin Theo perished in a fall?" he asked cooly. "It seems far more likely that he froze to death in the marriage bed.”

Quote by Lisa Kleypas

Work

Cold-Hearted Rake

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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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“There has to be another way," Kathleen insisted. "If there were, I'd have found it." She knew nothing of all the sleepless nights and exhausting days he'd spent searching for alternatives. There was no good solution, only a choice between several bad solutions, and this was the least harmful. Kathleen stared at him as if she'd just caught him snatching a crust of bread from an orphan. "But-" "Don't press me on this," Devon snapped, losing his patience. "It's difficult enough without a display of adolescent drama." Kathleen's face went white. Without another word, she turned and strode from the library.”

“What are you doing?" she asked in bemusement. Lights from hundreds of tiny candles danced in his eyes. "I have a gift for you." Disconcerted, she said, "Oh, but... the family will exchange presents tomorrow morning." "Unfortunately the presents I brought from London were lost in the accident." Reaching into his coat pocket, he said, "This is the one thing I managed to keep. I'd rather give it to you privately, since I have nothing for the others." Hesitantly she took the object from his open palm. It was a small, exquisite black cameo rimmed with pearls. A woman on a horse. "The woman is Athena," Devon said. "According to myth, she invented the bridle and was the first ever to tame a horse." Kathleen looked down at the gift in wonder. First the shawl... now this. Personal, beautiful, thoughtful things. No one had ever understood her taste so acutely. Damn him. "It's lovely," she said unsteadily. "Thank you." Through a glaze of incipient tears, she saw him grin. Unclasping the little pin, she tried to fasten it to the center of her collar. "Is it straight?" "Not quite." The backs of his fingers brushed her throat as he adjusted the cameo and pinned it. "I have yet to actually see you ride," he said. "West claims that you're more accomplished than anyone he's ever known." "An exaggeration." "I doubt that." His fingers left her collar. "Happy Christmas," he murmured, and leaned down to kiss her forehead.”

“Helen will never admit what she wants. She's spent her entire life trying not to be a bother to anyone. She'd marry the devil himself if she thought it would help the family- and she's well aware that Eversby Priory would stand to benefit." "She's not a child. She's a woman of one-and-twenty. Perhaps you didn't notice just now that she behaved with far more composure than you or I." On a callous note, he added gently, "And although it might surprise you, a lifetime of living under your thumb may not appeal to her.”

“Darling," Kathleen whispered near his ear with anguished worry, "please let go of me." He responded with an indecipherable sound, his arms cinching harder around her... and he began to fall as he lost consciousness. Thankfully, the footmen were right there to grab Devon before he crushed Kathleen under his solid weight. As they pulled him away from her and lowered him to the stretcher, her dazed brain comprehended the word he'd said. Never.”

“After the last long, helpless shudders had faded, Kathleen fell back on the velvet cushions like a rag doll that someone had tossed aside. Devon kept his mouth on her, easing the pleasure into relaxation. She summoned just enough strength to reach out and caress his hair. That might have been worth going to hell for, she thought, and didn't realize she had mumbled it aloud until she felt him smile.”

“I used to wish I'd been born a boy. I thought he might have taken an interest in me then. Or perhaps if I were prettier or cleverer." Devon cupped the side of her face, compelling her to look at him. "You're already too pretty and clever by half, darling. And it wouldn't have mattered if you were a boy. That was never the problem. Your parents were a pair of selfish lackwits." His thumb caressed her cheek. "And whatever flaws you might have, being unlovable is not one of them." During that last extraordinary sentence, the quiet volume of his voice fell to a near whisper. She stared at him, transfixed. He hadn't meant to say it, she thought. He undoubtedly regretted it. But their shared gaze remained unbroken. Looking into his dark blue eyes was like drowning, sinking into unfathomable depths from which she might never resurface.”