“Michael wondered what the legal ramifications were for strangling a knight of the realm. Surely nothing he couldn‟t live with.”

“There were only so many ways a man‟s heart could break, and he had a feeling his couldn‟t survive another puncture.”

“and he stopped going to church entirely, because there seemed no point now in even contemplating prayer for his soul. Besides, the parish church near Kilmartin dated to 1432, and the crumbling stones certainly couldn‟t takea direct strike of lightning.And if God ever wanted to smite a sinner, he couldn‟t do better than Michael Stirling.Michael Stirling, Sinner.He could see it on a calling card. He‟d have had it printed up, even—his was just that sort of black sense of humor—if he weren‟t convinced it would kill his mother on the spot.Rake he might be, but there was no need to torture the woman who‟d borne him.”

“Their fathers had been twins, but John‟s had entered the world seven minutes before Michael‟s.The most critical seven minutes in Michael Stirling‟s life, and he hadn‟t even been alive for them.”

“Michael, I am most pleased to see you up and about and looking so fine and healthy.”He inclined his head, thanking her for the compliment.She dabbed the corners of her mouth daintily with her napkin. “But now you must attend to your responsibilities as the earl.”He groaned.“Don‟t be so petulant,” Janet said. “No one is going to hang you up by your thumbs. All I was going to say is that you must go to the tailor and make sure you have proper evening clothes.”“Are you certain I can‟t donate my thumbs instead?”

“Did you wonder?” he whispered. “Did you leave me and wonder what I hadn’t told you?” He leaned in, just so she’d feel his lips move whisper-light against her ear. “Did you want to know what I did when I was wicked? Do you want me to tell you?” he murmured. He felt her jerk slightly in surprise, and he chuckled. “Not about them, Francesca. You. Only you.”-Michael Stirling”

“But he wanted to smile. He would have done, if he'd been able. Surely that had to be the most important thing.The jabbing at his leg stopped for a bit, then started up again. Then there was a lovely, short pause, and then-Damn, that hurt.But not enough to cry out. Although he might have moaned. He wasn't sure. They'd poured hot water on him. Lots of it. He wondered if they were trying to poach his leg.Boiled meat. How terribly British of them.He chuckled. He was funny. Who knew he was so funny?"Oh, my God!" he heard Honoria yell. "What did I do to him?"He laughed some more. Because she sounded ridiculous.Almost as if she were speaking through a foghorn.Oooorrrrhhhh myyy Grrrrrrrrrd.He wondered if she could hear it,too.Wait a moment..Honoria was asking what she'd done to him?Did that mean she was wielding the scissors now?He wasn't sure how he ought to feel about this.On the other hand...boiled meat!He laughed again,deciding he didn't care.God,he was funny.How was it possible no one had ever told him he was funny before?”