“Drustan raked a hand through his hair and fumbled in the dark for the door. When it didn't budge, a part of him was unsurprised. Yet another part of him met the fact with a kind of glad resignation.She wanted battle? Battle she would get. It would be a pleasure to have it out with her finally. Once he'd ripped the door from the framing, he would exact vengeance upon her wee body with gleeful abandon. No more honorable I-won't-touch-you-because-I'm-betrothed. Nay he'd touch her. Any damn place and any damn way he wanted to. As many times as he wanted to. Until she begged and whimpered beneath him. She'd been trying to drive him mad? Well, he was giving in to it. He would act like the animal she made him feel like being. The hell with Anya, the hell with duty and honor, the hell with discipline. He needed to tup. Her. Now.”

“He didn't go down to dinner at all that night, didn't eat, didn't drink, simply thought of his wife, trying to decide what to do with her. He'd wanted her to suffer, and she'd suffered. He'd wanted her to pay for her deceits, and she'd saved his life. He'd wanted to torment her with the knowledge that she would never see him again and had instead created his own private hell. He wanted her to come to him again, giving herself to him as she had that night before her attempted escape, and he wanted to hear words she would never speak. He'd even started lying to himself as he lay sleepless in his bed, reliving each moment of their last night together, telling himself it was real, that she'd meant every word. He was going mad.”

“He ground his teeth together, the torture of it almost more than he could bear.The urge to pull her to him was overwhelming, but to do that would cost him dearly, for no doubt she would run out the door, damning him with every step.This was Lorelei, the artist, and she didn't see him as a man. Right now, he was about as human as the ridiculous fruit she'd painted in the past. And if he played along with her wants, perhaps she'd let him show her his...banana.”

“Let me make love to ye.” “No…” “Aye,” he said, and his hand lifted the damp gown so he could touch her smooth skin. Her softness made him groan. He touched her gently, insane with wanting. “Ye are denying everything ye want, and yer body is the proof.” “It isn’t the first time that my body and my mind didn’t agree.” She pushed against him. “I can’t.” He wanted to teach her to make love to him and to him, to bring her pleasure and to show her how to bring pleasure to him. He knew it would be perfect between them, and he would give her anything she desire… Except marriage.. – Isobella Douglas & Alysandir Mackinnon”

“Bedding her could be anything from tenderness to riot, but to take her when she was a bit the worse for drink was always a particular delight.Intoxicated, she took less care for him than usual; abandoned and oblivious to all but her own pleasure, she would rake him, bite him - and beg him to serve her so, as well. He loved the feeling of power in it, the tantalizing choice between joining her at once in animal lust, or of holding himself-for a time- in check, so as to drive her at his whim.”

“Like a Falcon, she needed the dark to understand who her master was. She would learn to trust him, to rely upon him, to anticipate what he wanted from her. And like any master with his salt, he would reward her for her obedience. He would be exceedingly firm, but he would also be as fair as he could be. He had notchosen the instrument of his revenge at random. He had chosen a beautiful submissive. And what was a submissive if not adaptable -if not a survivor?”