“He couldn't help approving that she hid herself from every scoundrel who wished to ogle her bosom.He was the only scoundrel allowed to ogle Diana Carrick.”

“Miss Smith, your suspicions wound me,' he said with a smile. He drew her, stiff and unwilling, against his side. Immediately her warmth seeped into his veins. He’d known he’d missed her, but only now did he realize how much. 'I mean no harm.''You lie.''Often,' he agreed amiably, feeling the resistance leaching from her. 'Not this time.''I’m in no fit state to fight you,' she muttered, curving into him as if created to fit his body. 'I know,' he acknowledged ruefully, wondering why of all the women in the world, she was the only one who ignited any glimmer of chivalry in his soul. 'But it’s no fun when you just give in. I’ll wait until you’re up for another bout.'She hid her face in his shoulder. She inhaled on a shudder, as if she hadn’t taken a full breath in days. 'You’re an evil devil, Ranelaw.''Absolutely,' he said softly, firming his hold as she shifted, not away as she should, but closer.”

“The tension drained from her face and she softened in his hold until she was again the fluid, responsive woman who had kissed him within an inch of his life. This time he knew better than to restrain her when she slipped from the bed. He bit back an appeal for her to stay with him. If his life depended on it, he couldn’t say whether he wanted her to stay an hour, a day, or forever.”

“He’d stared into her eyes, dark with confusion and unwilling passion, and for one stark, horrible instant, he’d wished to be that different man. He’d wished to be worthy of her.”

“Her jaw ached with tension. "Surely you don't respond to all women who...invite you this way?""Only strangers who remain anonymous and shrouded from my sight." The snap was still there, astonishing her. Anger was the last reaction she'd expected. "Do you intend to wear your veils when you fuck me, madam?”

“She loved his laughter. She loved that he faced the world with a reckless smile on his scarred face. Her heart crashed against her chest. A revelation descended. A revelation unrelated to the desire heating her blood.”

“He’d always loved how she fought him. He loved the crackle and spark of her wit. Now he discovered he also loved the way she lay against him in what felt like perfect trust. … Antonia was a tall, vital woman, no shrinking miss. Now she felt brittle and vulnerable. He tightened his hold and told himself the surge of protectiveness meant nothing. Again he couldn’t quite believe it.”