“We have to get out of here, Bram. Before they take our bollocks and use them for pincushions.”

“So close. He'd get there. Not today, but soon. He had a task to accomplish here, and the sooner he completed it, the sooner he could rejoin his regiment. He wasn't stopping for anything.Except sheep. Blast it. It would seem they were stopping for sheep.A rough voice said, "I'll take care of them."Thorne joined their group. Bram flicked his gaze to the side and spied his hulking mountain of a corporal shouldering a flintlock rifle."We can't simply shoot them, Thorne."Obedient as ever, Thorne lowered his gun. "Then I've a cutlass. Just sharpened the blade last night.""We can't butcher them, either."Thorne shrugged. "I'm hungry."Yes, that was Thorne--straightforward, practical. Ruthless.”

“Thorne looked to the woolly beast at his [Bram's] knee and and cocked a brow. "You seem to have acquired a lamb, my lord.""The lamb goes home tomorrow.""And if he doesn't?""He's dinner.”

“This isn't food." Bram picked up a lavender-iced cake between thumb and finger and stared at it. "This is...edible ornamentation.”

“A home isn’t only defined by what you need, Bram. It’s also about the people who need you.”

“The Blushing Pansy," his cousin read aloud, in a tone of abject horror. "Tea shop and confectionery."Bram swore. This was going to be ugly.”

“Tonight," he announced, "is the night we take back that village. And we're not going to do it by marching in lines or committing acts of brave idiocy. We're going to do it by being men. Manly men. The kind of men a woman wants to take control." Brows wrinkled in confusion. "But . . ." The blacksmith looked around the group. "We are men. Last I checked, anyhow." "It's not just a matter of having the proper equipment. It's using the equipment properly." Leaping up on a crate, Colin spread his arms wide. "Look at me. Now look at yourselves. Now look back at me. I am the man you want to be like." Dawes crossed his arms. "Why is that, precisely?" "Do you know how many women I've bedded?" When Rufus and Finn perked, he waved at them. "Have a guess, boys." "Seventeen," offered Finn. "More." "Eighteen." "Still more." "Er . . . nineteen?" "Oh, for the love of God," he muttered. "We'll be here all day. Let's just call the number more than you can imagine. Because clearly, that is the case." Under his breath, he added, "Perhaps higher than you know how to count.”