“Still, it was a sad state of the world that people judged others not by the best that they could be but by the worst thought in their own hearts.”

“He treasured her, treasured her tears, treasured her love for others. Her heart might even be big enough to fill that empty space in his own chest. Perhaps she could be his heart as well.”

“Lazarus had never thought of himself as lovable. Therefore it should come as no shock at all that Temperance did not, in fact, love him. No, not a shock... but it would have been nice had she had some small feeling for him.Lazarus pondered his own sickening craving as he guided his black gelding through the London morning throng the day after he'd walked out on Temperance. It appeared that his own nascent emotions had provoked a new desire as well: the urge to be loved. How banal. And yet, banal or not, he could not change the way his heart felt.A corner of his mouth quirked up humorlessly. It seemed he must be like other men after all.”

“He pulled back, staring at her in the dim carriage, his brows still knit. "Megs?"Oh, right. She still hadn't told him. Well, it was his own fault; his mouth was simply delicious."I love you," she said, speaking clearly so that there might be no confusion.”

“Ye know as well as I that I lost whatever heart I once had long ago,” Mick replied without emotion, a simple statement of fact. “If the babe lives, or if she dies, it makes no difference to me. I’ll still eat sweetmeats on the morrow and taste the sugar on me tongue, still f*ck women and feel the pleasure in me bollocks. And, Charlie—mark me well, now—I’ll still kill ye and laugh in yer ugly face as I do it.”

“His face had gone still and for a moment her heart sank and she had to fortify herself for a battle. But then his mouth quirked like that (...) and she knew even before he said anything else that it was all going to be fine--more than fine. It was going to be wonderful.”

“Mickey cursed under his breath, letting his head fall back against the wall. His c*ck still beat angrily against his clothing. Once he would’ve simply sent for a whore. Now that thought was oddly unsatisfying. He could have a willing woman, a woman who would do anything he might request of her, even the most exotic acts of sex, but instead his flesh wanted just one woman.A woman who was as fierce in her maternal love as he had been as a boy in his will to survive.”