“Christ, he was empty, just a shell of himself. He had nothing to give, not even his seed.”

“She was breathtaking in her beauty and her human spirit, he thought, unable to speak as he gazed upon her. Hers was the sort that would not fade or grow jaded with time and years, but flourish, grow more radiant with life and its experience. Hers was a beauty that no other possessed. A beauty he longed to keep, to hide away, to bask in, himself alone. She had become his. He didn’t know when, whether it had been the moment her fingertips had touched him when he was hurt, or if it had grown, like a seed, slowing spreading until Jane had become the root anchoring the shattered pieces of his heart, pulling them tight together until it resembled the organ it should.”

“...but he was incapable of shame.He had no conscience or soul.No heart, either.That has broken and died years ago.The leftover pieces had petrified in his chest, leaving stone shrapnel in a black, empty place that felt nothing.Just a yawning void of nothing.And he liked it that way...”

“She had his dark hair, his lashes, and from the glimpse he had, she bore his eyes, as well. But the shape of her face, a perfect oval, was her mother’s. She had Anais’s cheeks. Anais’s lovely mouth and proud chin. He kissed her chin, feeling the softest of fluttering against his cheek—baby’s breath. There was nothing sweeter than the feel of an innocent child’s breath against one’s cheek—nothing more wondrous than knowing that the baby was your own flesh and blood.Mina stretched against him, yawning widely and throwing her arms up wide alongside her head. He laughed through his tears and reached for her little fist and brought it to his mouth, kissing her with such love he thought he would die of it. “You will consume me, little Mina, just as your mother has.”-Linsay to his infant daughter.”

“Matty,” Jane whispered, “what are you thinking?”He smiled, kissed her navel before glancing up at her. “Barbaric thoughts.”“You’re very pleased with yourself, aren’t you?”He laughed and slid up the length of her body. “I am. It’s such a powerfulvisual to know that my seed is responsible for the life within you and theincredibly arousing changes in your body.“And, I, of course, have nothing to do with it?”“Jane,” he whispered, “let me have my moment of male glory.”

“Does he lay with you in the grass? Does he stare up at the stars, speaking of his dreams, wishing he could roll over and kiss you and run his fingers along the breasts that tease him beneath the shirt--the shirt he knows he will carry home with him and smell and, God help him, sleep in, just so that he could be close to you?”

“I’m,” he swallowed thickly, unsure of why he wanted-no needed to explain hisbehavior to her. “I am not comfortable amongst the ton. I’m a solitary person, I keep my own counsel, and prefer to do so.”“You’re lonely.”He stopped then, shocked by her words, by her perception of him. He’d madehimself vulnerable, let himself weaken as her soft body melded with his. She saw too much, knew too much.“This,” he said, his voice cracking with desire, with the pain of what he knew he must do. “I can’t….”“Just let me in,” she whispered.“I’m afraid you would not like what you see.”“Trust me,” she said, her tempting mouth only inches away from his.-Blaine and Madeline.”