“She shrugged. "I'm surprised your mother didn't inform you of my presence. Or Belle. She has spoken about you a great deal."His eyes narrowed as his heart sank. "You've become friendly with Belle?" He saw all his hopes for a flirtation with this girl going up in smoke.”

“As his hands moved to his trousers, he saw that she was pulling the bedsheets over her. "Don't," he said, barely recognizing his own voice. Her eyes met his, and he said, "I'll be your blanket".”

“What are you smiling about?" Benedict demanded.She didn't bother to glance up as she replied, "I'm plotting your demise."He grinned-not that she was looking at him, but it was one of those smiles she could hear in the way he breathed.She hated that she as that sensitive to his every nuance. Especially since she had a sneaking suspicion that he was the same way about her."At least it sounds entertaining,"he said."What does?" she asked, finally moving her eyes from the lower hem of the curtain, which she'd been staring at for what seemed like hours."My demise," he said, his smile crooked and amused. "If you're going to kill me, you might as well enjoy yourself while you're at it, because Lord knows, I won't."Her jaw dropped a good inch. "You're mad," she said.”

“I think you're going to break more hearts this spring than I'll be able to count.""It isn't your job to count them," he said, his voice quiet and hard."No, it isn't, is it?" She looked over at him and smile wryly. "But I'm going to end up doing it all the same, won't I?""And why is that?"She didn't seem to have an answer to that, and then, just when he was sure she would say no more, she whispered, "Because I won't be able to stop myself.”

“He rolled his eyes. Why was he surprised about anything having to do with her? Of course she'd be able to lift a large stone. She was Henry. She could probably lift him.”

“He yawned again, this time very loudly, and lazily opened his eyes."I'm sorry I woke you up," she said quickly."Was I sleeping?"She nodded."So there really is a God," he muttered.”

“Forty-five minutes later, Benedict was slouching in his chair, his eyes glazed. Every now and then he had to stop and make sure his mouth wasn't hanging open.His mother's conversation was that boring.The young lady she had wanted to discuss with him had actually turned out to be seven young ladies, each of which she assured him was better than the last.Benedict thought he might go mad. Right here in his mother's sitting room he was going to go stark, raving mad. He'd suddenly pop out of his chair, fall to the floor in a frenzy his arms and legs waving, mouth frothing-"Benedict, are you even listening to me?"He looked up and blinked. Damn. Now he would have to focus on his mother's list of possible brides. The prospect of losing his sanity had been infinitely more appealing.”