“He lowered his head toward her, so she could feel his breath warm againsther skin, their mouths only inches apart. “You’re panting for it, aren’t you,Princess?” he murmured.”

Suzanne Enoch

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“One can only hope." He took a step toward her, so only a few scant inches separated them. A white cascade of glittering light lit the night above his head and made his eyes sparkle. "Do you mean there is no charity in your heart for a poor, misguided soul such as myself?"You've guided yourself astray," she informed him, backing up, "and my poor brother, as well." Her thoughts and her wits seemed to have scattered, and she fought to keep an affronted expression on her face."Then he is safe," the marquis murmured, "for my path leads straight back to you.”


“Shaw grinned again, wishing mightily that he and she were alone by the fire. “I never claimed to be much of a gentleman. But whether you tote about a parasol or not, you are every inch a lady. Quite possibly the finest I’ve ever met.”“Goodness. If you continue saying such things, I’ll begin to think you’re smitten with me.” “I’d describe it more as being clubbed into submission,” he murmured, aware both that her palm had come to rest just over his heart, and that his men and the Mayfair mob across the fire pit could see it. “But yes, I am rather smitten with you.”


“...He had no breath, no being, but in hers, she was his voice; he did not speak to her. But trembled on her words; She was his sight, For his eye followed hers, and saw hers, Which colored all his objects-he had crease to live within himself; She was his life, The ocean to the river of his thoughts...”


“If you ask me to leave now, I will.” Slowly his mouthcurved into that heart-stopping smile. “And then you’ll miss what comes next.”She shut her eyes for a heartbeat, trying to regain some control over herthoughts and her spread, wanton body. “What comes next?”“You do.” He lowered his head again.”


“Don’t cry,nyonda,” he murmured.Phillipa took a deep breath. “What does that mean, anyway? Nyonda?”His green gaze held hers. “It’s Swahili. It means ‘beloved.’” A small smile touched his mouth, and he brushed her cheek again. “You do know I love you, Phillipa. To an alarming degree.”


“There are rules,” he interrupted, scowling. Before she could move, he had both her hands in his, theirfaces inches apart. “Don’t put me off, Phillipa. I’ve given you my one warning; I am after you. If you wishme to proceed your way, I will. To a point. But if you continue throwing up that damned—blasted—‘youcan’t do that’ protest and still look at me with that same…passion in your eyes, I will put you back in thatphaeton and not stop driving until we reach Gretna Green. Is that clear?”