Sarah MacLean

“Nick spoke again. "Her legitimacy will be questioned."Gabriel thought for several moments. "If our mother married her father, it means that the marchioness must have converted to Catholicism upon arriving in Italy. The Catholic Church would never have acknowledged her marriage in the Church of England.""Ah, so it is we who are illegitimate." Nick's words were punctuated with a wry smile."To Italians, at least," Gabriel said. "Luckily, we are English.""Excellent. That works out well for us.”

“She did not want to be that woman - the one of whom they spoke. She had never planned to be that woman. Somehow, it had happened, however...somehow, she had lost her way and, without realizing it, she had chosen this staid, boring life instead of a different, more adventurous one.”

“I enjoyed every bit of the evening. I may not drink scotch or smoke a cheroot again, but I shall always cherish the fact that I did those things. The adventure is well worth the disappointing experience.”

“I've spent twenty-eight years doing what everyone around me expected me to do...being what everyone around me has expected me to be. And it's horrid to be someone else's vision of yourself.”

“She tilted her head, considering the sensation. "It is strange."He gave a hiss of laughter at the words. "It only gets stranger, darling. But we shall try for something more.”

“It was a terrifying feeling. And if it was love, he wanted none of it.”

“But she had dreamed of being his for too long. He had quite ruined her for a marriage of convenience. She wanted everything from him: his mind, his body, his name and, most of all, his heart.”

“The most confident of women are those who believe in every scrap of fabric they wear. They are the ones who are as happy wih their drawers as they are with their gowns. You can tell the difference between a woman who wraps herself in beautiful silks and satins and she who wears...otherwise.”

“He was struck dumb at the words though he should not be surprised; his wife kept him in a perpetual state of speechlessness.”

“I had a perfect life in my reach once, and it was a crashing bore. Perfect is too clean, too easy. I don't want perfect any more than I want to be perfect. I want imperfect.”

“What does Éloa mean?”He narrowed his gaze, answered her literally. “It’s the name of an angel.”Penelope tilted her head, thinking. “I’ve never heard of him.”“You wouldn’t have.”“Was he a fallen angel?”“She was, yes.” He hesitated, not wanting to tell her the story, but unable to stop himself. “Lucifer tricked her into falling from heaven.”“Tricked her how?”He met her gaze. “She fell in love with him.”Penelope’s eyes widened. “Did he love her?”Like an addict loves his addiction. “The only way he knew how.”She shook her head. “How could he trick her?”“He never told her his name.”

“Kisses should not leave you satisfied. They should leave you wanting.”

“Fortuitous mostly for me,Lady Holloway," she said, her gaze steadfast on her husband. "For without our being childhgood neighbors, I am certain that my husband woud never have found me."Michael's gaze lit with admiration, and he lifted his glass in her direction. "At some point I would have realized what I was missing, darling. An I would have come looking for you.”

“Chase picked up the card. “I’m happy to share from my personal experience, if you like.”Temple grinned at his hand. “And I.”It was all too much. “I do not need advice. She enjoyed it immensely.”“I hear they don’t all enjoy it right off the bat,” Cross said.“That is true,” Chase said, all expertise.“It’s fine if she didn’t, old man,” Temple offered. “You can try again.”“She enjoyed it.” Bourne’s voice was low and tight, and he thought he might kill the next person who spoke.“Well, one thing is for certain,” Temple said, casually, and Bourne ignored the pang of disappointment that the enormous man was very likely the only one at the table he could not kill.”

“How long has it been since you’ve slept?” Chase asked.“I sleep.” Not much.“How long since you’ve slept more than an hour here and there?”“I do not require a mother.”Chase lifted a brow. “Perhaps a wife, then?”Bourne wished Chase were in the damn ring, too.”

“He missed you just as I did. He worried about you just as I worried. He looked for you. Tried to find you. Just as I did. But you were gone.” She took a step toward him. “You think he left you? It was you who left, Michael. You left us.” Her voice was shaking now, all the anger and sadness and fear she had felt in those months, those years after Michael had disappeared. “You left me.” She put her hands to his chest, pushing him with all her might, with all her anger. “And I missed you so much. I missed you so much. I still do, damn you.”

“Dear Sixpence,I saved them all, you know. Every letter you ever sent, even those to which I never replied. I’m sorry for so many things, my love: that I leftyou; that I never came home; that it took me so long to realize that you were my home and that, with you by my side, none of the restmattered.But in the darkest hours, on the coldest nights, when I felt I’d lost everything, I still had your letters. And through them, in some small way,I still had you.I loved you then, my darling Penelope, more than I could imagine—just as I love you now, more than you can know.MichaelHell House, February 1831”

“..he wanted her.And at another time, as another man, he would have her. Without hesitation. As lover. . . as more.”

“She had wanted more than she could have.She had wanted him, and more... she had wanted him to want her.In the name of something bigger than tradition, bolder than reputation, more important than a silly title.”

“Yes, she was a scandal.Her brother simply didn’t know it.“I fell in the Serpentine today.”“Yes, well, that doesn’t usually happen to women in London. But it’s not so much of a scandal as it is a challenge.”

“Even as she’d come to know the real Ralston—the Ralston who was not cut from heroic cloth—Callie had failed to see the truth. And, instead of seeing her own heartbreak coming, she had fallen in love, not with her fantasy, but with this new, flawed Ralston.”

“She’d so believed he could—that decades marked by disdain for emotion could have been nothing more than a faint memory in his checkered past. That she could love him enough to prove to him that the world was worth his caring, his trust. That she could turn him into the man of whom she had dreamed for so long.That was perhaps the hardest truth of all—that Ralston, the man she’d pined over for a decade, had never been real. He’d never been the strong and silent Odysseus; he’d never been aloof Darcy; never Antony, powerful and passionate. He had only ever been Ralston, arrogant and flawed and altogether flesh and blood.”

“How could she go on without him? And, at the same time, how could she go on knowing that everymoment of their time together had meant so little to him”

“If I were anyone else…your opera singer…the woman across the hall…would you have apologized?”He looked confused. “No…but you are neither of those women. You deserve better.”“Better,” she repeated, frustrated. “That’s just my point! You and the rest of society believe that it’s better for me to be set upon a pedestal of primness and propriety—which might have been fine if a decade on that pedestal hadn’t simply landed me on the shelf. Perhaps unmarried young women like our sisters should be there. But what of me?” Her voice dropped as she looked down at the cards in her hands. “I’m never going to get a chance to experience life from up there. All that is up there is dust and unwanted apologies. The same cage as hers”—she indicated the woman outside—“merely a different gilt.”

“Before I merely daydreamed about Ralston. Now I find myself actually with him. Actually talking to him. Actually discovering the real Ralston. He is no longer a creature I invented. He is flesh and blood and…now I can’t help wondering…” She trailed off, unwilling to say what she was thinking. What if he were mine?She did not have to say the words aloud; Anne heard them anyway. When Callie opened her eyes and met Anne’s gaze in the looking glass, she saw Anne’s response there. Ralston is not for you, Callie.“I know, Anne,” Callie said quietly, as much to remind herself as to reassure her friend.”

“do not like this taste for adventure you have developed, sister.”“I am afraid I cannot guarantee I shall be rid of it anytime soon.”

“I forbid you from frequenting taverns, public houses, or other establishments of vice.”She snorted in amusement. “Establishments of vice? That’s a rather puritanical view of things, isn’t it? I assure you, I was quite safe.”“You were with Ralston!” he said, as though she were simpleminded.“He was perfectly respectable,” she said, the words coming out before she remembered that the carriage ride home was anything but respectable.“Imagine—my sister and the Marquess of Ralston together. And he turns out to be the respectable one,” Benedick said wryly, sending heat flaring on Callie’s cheeks, but not for the reason he thought. “No more taverns.”

“Benedick looked to the ceiling as though begging for divine patience. Or for the Lord to strike his sister down. Callie couldn’t quite discern which.”

“Why now? Why not wait for a man to come along and…sweep you off your feet?”She gave a short laugh. “If the man you speak of had ever planned on coming, my lord, I’m afraid he has obviously lost his way. And, at twenty-eight, I find I have grown tired of waiting.”

“It didn’t matter the quality of the writing— Callie’s fantasies about her fictional heroes were entirely democratic.”

“If I am an empress, he is the only man worthy of being my emperor.”

“Juliana?” the words were low and far—too calm for her husband, who had found that he rather enjoyed the full spectrum of emotion now that he had experienced it.“Yes?”“What are you doing twenty feet in the air?”“Looking for a book.”“Would you mind very much returning to the earth?”“What are you thinking, climbing to the rafters in your condition?”“I am not an invalid, Simon, I still have use of all my extremes.”“You do indeed—particularly your extreme ability to try my patience—I believe, however, that you mean extremities.”

“You think my feelings toward you apathetic? You think you bore me?”“Don’t I?”He shook his head slowly, continuing toward her, stalking her in the small space.“No.God knows you are infuriating . . And impulsive . . .” Her back came up against the wall, and she gave a little squeak, even as he advanced. “And altogether maddening . . .” He placed one hand to her jaw, carefully lifting her face to his, feeling the leap of her pulse under his fingertips. “And thoroughly intoxicating . . .” The last came out on a low growl, and her lips parted, soft and pink and perfect.He leaned close, his lips a fraction from hers.“No . . . you are not boring.”

“I . . . hit him . . . elsewhere.”“Where?”“In his . . .In his inguine.”“Oh, dear God.” It was unclear whether Ralston’s words were meant as prayer or blasphemy.What was clear was that the woman was a gladiator.“He called me a pie!” she announced, defensively. There was a pause. “Wait. That’s not right.”“A tart?”“Yes! That’s it!” She registered her brother’s fists and looked to Simon. “I see that it is not a compliment.”“No. It is not.”

“He called me a pie!” she announced, defensively. There was a pause. “Wait. That’s not right.”“A tart?”“Yes! That’s it!”

“You are my siren,” he said, running his hands along her thighs and down her calves, feeling the shape of her even as the silk of her gown kept them both from what they wanted. “My temptress . . . my sorceress . . . I cannot resist you, no matter how I try. You threaten to send me over the edge.”

“Ralston looked down his long, elegant nose at the vile creature at his feet, and said, “You just impugned the honor of my future marchioness. Choose your seconds. I will see you at dawn.”Leaving Oxford sputtering on the ground, Ralston spun on one elegant heel to face Benedick. “When I am done with him, I am coming for your sister. And, if you intend to keep me from her, you had better have an army at your side.”

“Men are not nearly as evolved as women are, nor as intelligent, evidently”

“Let me be clear. Last I was aware you were neither my husband nor my father nor my King. Therefore, any control you may imagine you hold over me is just that- imaginary”

“I do not traditionally speak ill of women, but your governess is a cabbagehead”

“This new world was already turning her into a cabbagehead, and she'd only been a part of it for an evening”

“What do you think of this" he asked, indicating the painting nearby.She gave him an odd look. "I think it's an enormous painting of a dog."He made a show of considering the picture and nodded seriously. "An astute observation.”

“You should see what she’s wearing, Callie. It’s velvet. Canary yellow velvet. Turban to match. She looks like a furry banana.”

“Would you like to cross another item off this list today?""I should like that very much. Which do you propose?""I think it's time to try riding astride"."You can't mean...""Oh, but I do, indeed, mean, Empress.”

“Lord Nicholas St. John was their only hope, and she had been on the roof when he arrived, for heaven's sake. Ladies did not go traipsing about on rooftops.And certainly gentlemen did not frequent the homes of those ladies who did traipse about on roortops. It did not matter if the rooftop in question was in dire need of repair.Or that the lady in question had no choice.”

“{Calpurnia)"My mother…she’s desperate for a daughter she can dress like a porcelain doll. Sadly, I shall never be such a child. How I long for my sister to come out and distract the countess from my person."He joined her on the bench, asking, "How old is your sister?""Eight," she said, mournfully."Ah. Not ideal.""An understatement." She looked up at the star-filled sky. "No, I shall be long on the shelf by the time she makes her debut.""What makes you so certain you’re shelf-bound?"She cast him a sidelong glance. "While I appreciate your chivalry, my lord, your feigned ignorance insults us both." When he failed to reply, she stared down at her hands, and replied, "My choices are rather limited.""How so?""I seem able to have my pick of the impoverished, the aged, and the deadly dull.”

“Ralston didn't care. He turned on his brother as the surgeon knelt next to him and inspected the wound. "She could have been killed!" And what about you?" This time, it was Callie who spoke, her own pent-up energy releasing in anger, and the men turned as one to look at her, surprised that she and found her voice. "What about you and your idiotic pland to somehow restore my honor by playing guns out in the middle of nowhere with OXFORD?" She said the baron's name in disdain. "Like children? Of all the ridiculous, unnecessary, thoughtless, MALE things to do...who even FIGHTS duels anymore?!”

“Ralston stiffened at the reference to the stupid wager that caused so much pain and unhappiness. He ignored Oxford's proffered hand, and instead met the baron's concerned gaze, and said, "Keep the money. I have her. She's all I want.”

“Nick continued, unable to keep the smug smile form his lips. "Shall I tell you what I would do if I discovered I'd been a royal ass and had lost the only woman I'd ever really wanted?"Ralston's eyes narrowed on his brother. "I don't imagine I could stop you." Indeed not," Nick said, "I can tell you I wouldn't be standing in this godforsaken field in this godforsaken cold waiting for that idiot Oxford to shoot at me. I would walk away from this ridiculous, antiquated exercise, and I would find that womand tell her that I was a royal ass. And then I would do whatever it takes to convince her that she should take a chance on me despite my being a royal ass. And once that's done, I would get her, immediatley, to the nearest vicar and get the girl married. And with child.”

“He smiled, setting his forehead to hers. "you are very bad for me. I am trying to turn over a new leaf--I am trying to be more gentlemanly." "But what if I want you to stay a rake?" she teased, her fingers trailing down his neck and chest, fingering the buttons on his waistcoat. "A libertine, even?" she slipped one fastening from its seat and he grabbed her errant hand, bringing it to his lips for a swift kiss. "Callie," he said, his voice thick with warning as she set her free hand to the second button on his coat. "What if I want the rogue, Gabriel?" the question was soft and sweet. "What are you saying?"She kissed across the firm square line of his jaw and whispered to him, shyness in her shaking voice, "Take me to bed, Gabriel. Give me a taste of scandal.”