Anne Stuart
Anne Stuart is a grandmaster of the genre, winner of Romance Writers of America's prestigious Lifetime Achievement Award, survivor of more than thirty-five years in the romance business, and still just keeps getting better.
Her first novel was Barrett's Hill, a gothic romance published by Ballantine in 1974 when Anne had just turned 25. Since then she's written more gothics, regencies, romantic suspense, romantic adventure, series romance, suspense, historical romance, paranormal and mainstream contemporary romance for publishers such as Doubleday, Harlequin, Silhouette, Avon, Zebra, St. Martins Press, Berkley, Dell, Pocket Books and Fawcett.
She’s won numerous awards, appeared on most bestseller lists, and speaks all over the country. Her general outrageousness has gotten her on Entertainment Tonight, as well as in Vogue, People, USA Today, Women’s Day and countless other national newspapers and magazines.
When she’s not traveling, she’s at home in Northern Vermont with her luscious husband of thirty-six years, an empty nest, three cats, four sewing machines, and one Springer Spaniel, and when she’s not working she’s watching movies, listening to rock and roll (preferably Japanese) and spending far too much time quilting.
Anne Stuart also writes as Kristina Douglas.
“It's going to storm," she said."You've been in Alabama for twenty-four hours and you think you canread the weather?""Then why is it so dark?""It's going to storm."She wanted to hit him. "Then I'd appreciate getting to my car before ithits. I don't like thunderstorms. ""No, I imagine you don't," he said softly. "That's just something elseyou're afraid of. Sex, men, thunderstorms, being poor. Me. Anything else?"Yeah," she said. "I'm afraid of alligators and poisonous snakes, orotherwise I wouldn't be here in this hearse with you.”
“You don't believe in God, Rachel. You don't believe in goodness or loveor mercy, do you?""I haven't seen enough to form an opinion.""But you believe in the devil?""When I'm sitting in a car with him, yes," she said.”
“You can find yourself a decent,honorable man, one to love you, respect you, cherish you. Someone withmorals, with a decent job and a good future. That's what you think youwant, isn't it? Not some white trash from Alabama. Not some ex-conwho's running the scam of a lifetime. You're so good and decent, the verythought of me disgusts you, doesn't it?" His voice was low and seductiveas he pushed the words at her.She met his gaze with what she hoped was a fearless one of her own."Yes," she said."Then tell me, Rachel," he said, letting his hand toy with the looseneckline of her tunic, "why aren't you out somewhere, fucking your littlegentleman's brains out? Why are you here with me, quivering when Itouch you?”
“Please go away, Monsieur le Comte,” she said in a polite voice. “You must have tired of your absurd, inconsequential games by now.”“My games are never inconsequential, as long as they entertain me.”She closed her eyes in frustration for a brief moment. “This house is filled with beautiful women…”“Oh, not quite filled,” he said frankly, leaning back. “The Revels won’t start for another day. At this point there are no more than half a dozen beauties in residence.”“Then why don’t you go bother one of them?”“Because I don’t want one of them, my sweet. I want you.”
“He pulled her back, off balance so that she fell against him, and he took her face in his two hands and held it very still while his eyes looked down into hers. Somber, truthful, painfully honest. "I love you, Chloe," he said. "Which is the most dangerous thing I could do.”
“And telling you I care about you is a waste of time. I wouldn't have crossed the ocean, come out of hiding, tracked you down, if you didn't matter to me.”
“She raised her head finally. He looked the same, but then, he always did. She'd seem him kill twice, and he betrayed no reaction at all. He was a monster, not even human.But he was her monster...”
“I want your innocence. I want your blind, unquestioning devotion toyour father, your acceptance of who and what he is. I want you to look atme the way you look at him, knowing the worst. I want you to trust me,even when your brain tells you you shouldn't, I want you to ignorecommon sense and your lifelong need to protect yourself. I want you togive yourself to me, body and soul.”
“Oh, God," she whispered, sliding her arms around his neck. "Nicholas…" He pushed her away from him. "I find I'm not in the mood,I'm not very good company right now. I kept away for as long as I could, but the amusements of Venice are not to my taste. I'll relieve you of my presence…" She caught his wrist, halting him. "Nicholas,I love you." "Don't," he snapped at her, but he didn't break free. "Don't you understand? Haven't I proved it, time and time again? I'm a monster, not worthy of love, not worthy of anything at all…" "I love you," she said again, catching his other hand, pulling his arms around her, pulling his tall, tension-racked body tight against hers. "I love you.”
“You'll marry me, my dragon, and you'll bear my children, and you'll drive me mad and live in that ramshackle old house with me and I'll even put up with the occasional visit from your sister ifI must. But you'll marry me. Not because you have to. But because I won't let you go.""Why?" she demanded.And he answered the only way he could, in French. "Je't'aime," he said. "I love you.""Je't'aime aussi," she said. "And I will make your life a living hell," she added in the same language.He smiled down at her. "I'm counting on it.”
“She tried to allow herself only one biting remark an hour, and she had already overstepped her allowance.”