“The running pants were tolerable, Drustan decided, relieved. The blue trews had clearly been a torture device and would have strangled a man's seed. Mayhap men were fashioned differently in her time. He hadn't seen one other bulge out there on the street; mayhap they all had wee carrots in their trews.”

“I want purple trews, lass," Drustan called over the door. "No," she said irritably. "And a purple shirt.”

“My trews may be soft, lass, he thoughts, but what's in them isn't.”

“Then you will simply have to see for yourself. Touch me, lass. Feel my ...sock." His silver gaze sizzled with challenge, as he unzipped his zipper.Uh-uh." She shook her head for added emphasis.Then find me a pair of trews that doona threaten to sever my manparts.”

“Daily her tactics grew more sly and underhanded. Last night the audacious wench had picked the lock to hischamber! Because he'd had the foresight to barricade the door with a heavy armoire, she'd then gone to his door inthe corridor and picked that lock. He'd been forced to escape out the window. Halfway down he'd slipped, crashed the last fifteen feet to the ground, and landed in a prickly bush. Since he'd not had time to don his trews, hismanly parts had taken the brunt of his abrupt entry into the bush, putting him in a foul mood indeed.The wench sought to unman him before his long-anticipated wedding night.”

“Finally, someone had seen him.And what had he done? Let her get away. Undermined by his disgusting human anatomy. It had just been made excruciatingly clear to him that the human male brain and the human male c*ck couldn't both sustain sufficient amounts of blood to function at the same time. It was one or the other, and the human male apparently didn't get to choose which one. As a Tuatha Dé, he would have been in complete control of his lust. Desirous yet coolheaded, perhaps even a touch bored (it wasn't as if he could do something he hadn't done before; given a few thousand years, a Tuatha Dé got around to trying everything). But as a human male, lust was far more intense, and his body was apparently slave to it. A simple hard-on could turn him into a bloody Neanderthal.”

“She was tipping her head back to inquire, when two men entered the great hall and the question flew right out of her head. They were simply two of the most gorgeous men she'd ever seen. Twins, though different. They were both tall and powerfully built. One was taller by a few inches, with dark hair that swept just past his shoulders and eyes like shard of silver and ice while the other had long black hair falling in a single braid to his waist, and eyes as gold as Adam's torque. They were elegantly dressed in tailored clothing of dark hues, with magnificent bodies that dripped with raw sex appeal. Oh, my, she marveled, they don't amek men like these in the States. Were these typical Scotsmen? If so, she was going to have to get Elizabeth over here somehow. A connoisseur of romance novels, Elizabeth's favorites were the Scottish ones, and these two men looked as if they'd just stepped straight off one of those covers. "Try not to gape, ka-lyrra. They're only human. Mortal. Puny. And married. Both of them. Happily.”