“Suzette was different, her responses were honest, her need real not feigned to jolly the exercises along, and that passion in her had called out to his own. Feeling her tremble with excitement had excited him, tasting her passion had made his own hunger stretch and roar, and just watching her find her release had nearly brought on his own. He wanted to possess that, and if it took marriage to do it, then dammit, Gretna Green here he came.”

“He knew when he had her, when he brought her to peak for the second time. The sound of his name on her lips made his own release all the more euphoric, and totally consuming.She was his.”

“Her green eyes came unafraid to his. The connection was so intense that it threatened to drain his sense of self. He felt that he had always known her, that she had always been a part of him, that her needs were his needs.”

“The taste of him exploded inside her mouth, filling her senses with an intoxicating warmth and aroma that had nothing to do with the amount of brandy he had consumed. He made sounds-rough, greedy, indistinct sounds that vibrated through her tissues, his lips and teeth and tongue consuming her with his passion.”

“Blackthorne, beside the gates, was still turmoiled by his boundless joy at her reprieve and he remembered how his own will had been stretched that night of his near-seppuku, when he had had to get up as a man and walk home as a man unsupported, and became samurai. And he watched her, despising the need for this courage, yet understanding it, even honoring it.”

“He had preserved the best part of her and made it his own: the principle of her scent.”