“At least you didn't need to change your breeches."He glanced up again instantly, pinning her eyes with his, his own suddenly gone lambent. "Now why didn't I think of that? Would it inspire you to ravish me?”

“hmmm. Didn't they say a man's feet echoed the size of his manhood? Of its own accord, her gaze darted up Gregor's leg to where his deliciously tight breeches caressed his-"Knife."She blinked, her gaze jerking up to his face, her skin flushing. Please, God, don't let him know what I was thinking. "Knife." he said again."Knife?" she repeated dumbly."Good god, Oglivie. I will need a knife if I'm to cut these vegetables.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Kath protested, getting to her feet. Keath was telling her how to kill him.“I just need you to know.” Keath got to his feet too. He reached out and up his hands firmly on her shoulders, looking into her eyes. She wanted to look away but she couldn’t. There was something in Keath’s eyes. He was afraid of something, something he didn't want to tell her, as though he didn't want to scare her anymore.“I want to know that if it I need to be stopped,” Keath continued. “You will be able to stop me. Just promise me that you will, Kathleen.”

“You may set your mind at rest, Miss Anstruther-Wetherby." He glanced down, the planes of his face granite-hard. "I'm not marrying you because of any social stricture. That, if you consider it, is a nonsensical idea. Cynsters, as you well know, do not give a damn about social strictures. Society, as far as we're concerned, can think what it pleases—it does not rule us.""But… if that's the case—and given your reputation I can readily believe it is—why insist on marrying me?""Because I want to."The words were delivered as the most patently obvious answer to a simple question. Honoria held on to her temper. "Because you want to?"He nodded."That's it? Just because you want to?"The look he sent her was calculated to quell. "For a Cynster, that's a perfectly adequate reason. In fact, for a Cynster, there is no better reason."He looked ahead again; Honoria glanced at his profile. "This is ridiculous. You only set eyes on me yesterday, and now you want to marry me?"Again he nodded."Why?"The glance he shot her was too brief for her to read. "It so happens I need a wife, and you're the perfect candidate." With that, he altered their direction and lengthened his stride even more."I am not a racehorse."His lips thinned, but he slowed--just enough so she didn't have to run. They'd gained the graveled walk that circled the house. It took her a moment to replay his words, another to see their weakness. "That's still ridiculous. You must have half the female population of the ton waiting to catch your handkerchief every time you blow your nose."He didn't even glance her way. "At least half.""So why me?"Devil considered telling her--in graphic detail. Instead, he gritted his teeth and growled: "Because you're unique.""Unique?"Unique in that she was arguing.”

“He didn't ask because he didn't wanted to know. If you know, moments die an instant death. She held his hand in hers; hiding them like a pearl; her coral eyes ensconcing his pain.”

“She frowned. Then blurted, "Do you have other females?"As if anyone could measure up to her? "No! Why do you ask?""We haven't layed together and you are a male with obvious... needs. Even now, your body has changed, hardening, growing big."Crap. He'd tried to hide the erection, he really had. "Marissa-""Surely you need to be eased regularly. Your body is phearsom."That didn't sound good. "What?""Potent and powerful. Worthy of entering a female."Butch closed his eye, thinking Mr. Worthy was really rising to the occasion now.”