“He’d never liked tea. It seemed somewhat ridiculous to him, to interrupt his day with miniature cakes and dry, crustless sandwiches, and fragile china that always seemed about to snap in half between his fingers. Tea, Kimber reasoned, was a feminine invention, ruled by females of a certain type: ruffled, beribboned, and iron-willed.”

“Your Royal Grace, Forgive my boldness. If I might inquire: How old are you? —Kimber”

“Whether you like it or not, we are your blood.""Half my blood.""Aye," agreed the marquess, sober. "Although 'twould seem you've gotten the better half by far. All beauty, none of the beast."She blinked at that, crossed her arms. "How charming! Had you planned that for long?""Only since this morning." He shrugged, unabashed. "I'll do better in London.""Please, don't bother.""I'm afraid I cant help myself. I'm charming by nature.”

“I need to keep sharp. But when you're this damned close to me, all I think about is you. I think about your mouth, and I think about your breasts, and I think about your pink tongue and your legs wrapped around me. I think about touching you and you touching me--and then I look at you and you're giving me that look--yes, that one, just there, as if you want me to kiss you--please stop--" He exhaled on a hiss, tipping his head back against the wood and pressing two fingers to the bridge of his nose.”

“But this man...this powerful, lovely man was not afraid of her. He was also a beast, and an earl, which seemed to be something like a prince in this country, and he was not afraid. And he was tender, and he was strong, and he was drakon.”

“In the dark he glimmered with starlight. When they altered directions the swelling hush of the wind filled her ears, but when they glided, when they rode the wings of the air itself, she heard only him. The whispered resonance of his flight, respiration, heartbeat. Quiet. As if the cosmos had never held anything but them, as if above and below, in all the black glittering solitude of the universe, there would never be anyone else but them.”

“My dowry is thirty-five. A year.” His brows climbed. “You’re joking.” “I would never joke about money with a notorious thief. Just imagine, in a mere two years you’re at a profit.” “How I adore a woman who does mathematics in her head.”“I can forge signatures as well.” “Splendid. Exactly the bride I’ve been hoping for.”