Quotes from Anna Campbell

He couldn't help approving that she hid herself from every scoundrel who wished to ogle her bosom. He was the only scoundrel allowed to ogle Diana Carrick.

He admitted the truth, even if it made him feel like an awkward schoolboy instead of a worldly man with a history of too many lovers. "I always wanted the chance to talk to you." The disbelief in her short laugh roused another of those unwelcome pangs in his chest. She was so convinced that she was of negligible interest.

He was far and away the most daunting creature she'd ever encountered.

He couldn't get enough of that luscious mouth, of her tangy flavor.

Giles kissed her again, hard and furious. As if he hated her. He'd been in love for years, yet he'd never realized love could be like this. Like someone struck him with a club over and over again. Like fire devouring him. Sweet and terrible. Painful and fierce.

He'd called her a sparrow. If he made the slightest untoward movement, his wild bird would fly away into the forest and he'd never find her again. And the strangest result of the last days was the certainty that if Miss Philippa Sanders left his life, it would be immeasurably poorer.

You don't really believe I intend harm, do you?" If he intended to marry her, she considered that great harm indeed. But Flora the housemaid couldn't say that. Bill rose and gave himself a good shake before he trotted forward to investigate the stranger's boots. Bite him, Bill. Lord Lyle clicked his elegant fingers. And Bill, the rotten traitor, yipped in delight and rolled over to offer his pink belly for a scratch. "Nice

A deeply feminine fear, thick and heavy as tar, coalesced in Sidonie's stomach as she surged up against the headboard. Merrick appeared impossibly large lounging against the door, arms folded across his lean chest. Candlelight flickered over his ruined face, lending him a devilish mien.

Yes. I was such a bumpkin then ... I was as naive a country mushroom as you could meet.

What on earth was wrong with her? One would imagine she'd never been alone with a man, when her duties on the estate had her dealing with males of various degree from morning to night. None made her feel the way she felt dangling off Lord Lyle's elegant hand. She swallowed, her throat so tight that it hurt. Dear heavens, she was in trouble. And for once in her life, she felt helpless to rescue herself. "Watch

She'd begun her story to divert him from his nightmare. Little did she know that what she described created its own nightmares.

The only true liberty a well-bred woman could have was as a widow of independent fortune.

She swallowed, sent him a wild look, and rushed out. The slam of the door echoed through the empty corridor as she collapsed breathless against the wall outside his room. In a futile attempt to quiet her galloping heart, she pressed one trembling hand to her heaving chest. What in Hades must Lyle make of her bizarre behavior? He must think her raving mad. Right now, she was inclined to agree. Charlotte

I don't know what I've done to deserve such kindness." The countess's eyes sparkled, as if she concealed a delightful secret. "Don't you know, my dear? Really?" Campion stared at her, puzzled. "I didn't save your dog." "Perhaps not." The countess smiled. "But I hope that you might save my son." Oh,

He felt like he'd been belted in the head with a cricket bat. Dizzy and breathless and befuddled. He'd expected Charlotte to be pretty. He hadn't expected her to send his whole world reeling. He

I had no idea that you would come up with this mad scheme. How did you enlist your mother in your wickedness? What lies did you tell her?" "None. From the first, my mother has known exactly who you are." His nonchalant reply knotted her stomach with shame and anger. How could he be so careless of her reputation? "Your mistress?" After a fraught pause, Lachlan's voice emerged deep and steady. "The woman I want to marry.

What artist could recreate Sidonie's sensuous beauty? No mere dauber could capture the feminine musk on the air. Or depict the soft, uneven pattern of her breathing. Her skin was flushed. A pulse fluttered in the hollow of her throat. Her lips were full and dark, although he'd hardly kissed her. Over and over in the mirrors, she emerged from the loosened gown like a water lily from a lake. He loomed over her like a nightmare.

Throughout all those years, Gabriel had not forgotten Rowena, the beautiful duchesse de Valère. In fact, there were times he imagined his work was in tribute to her, to avenge the wrongs done to her and her family. But that time in his life was over. He was no longer the French Fox. He had a title—the rumors of his knighthood were true—and he had a little land. Now he wanted to share his life with someone—no, not someone—her. Rowena. "It

Hell," he whispered. He swept her into his arms and leaned down to claim those plump, glistening lips. Her glorious taste thundered through him. Salty and tart like a mixture of green apples and the sea. He discovered without any real surprise that he'd craved the flavor of Charlotte Warren all his life. For

He was as nervous as a boy before his first kiss. He had one chance to win her, to seduce her, to make her love him. He was, once again, hopelessly in love with her.

So, marriage, Miss Warren?" The suspicion that her expression was as vapid as her brainless hound's sparked a revival of spirit. "Is that a proposal?" He laughed comfortably and tucked her closer. The delicious scent of clean male enveloped her. "No." "Good." "When I propose, you'll be in no doubt of my intentions." Even

This gander likes to do his own chasing, Madam Goose.

The Earl of Ravenglass can't marry the woman who's been his mistress for six weeks." "Watch me." She

She straightened her back another degree, even as Merrick's eyelids sank lower. He looked half asleep but he remained alert to everything around him, including her increasingly frail resistance. Good heavens, he didn't have to watch her to confirm her vulnerability. Hadn't she just let him kiss her into a stupor? He hadn't mentioned the kisses. Nor had she. But every time she met his glinting silver eyes, she remembered the shocking intimacy of his tongue in her mouth.