Sarah MacLean Quotes - Page 3

He was struck dumb at the words though he should not be surprised; his wife kept him in a perpetual state of speechlessness.

And... as long as they need me, it's easier to forget that I am alone.

You must be mistaken," Isabel said, unconcerned by the insult that the words carried. "I assure you i am not. Voluptas is nearly always portrayed wrapped in roses. If that were not enough, her faces confirms her identity." "You cannot tell a goddess from a face carved in marble," she scoffed. "You can tell Voluptas by her face." "I've never even heard of this goddess, and you know what she looks like?" "She is the goddess of sensual pleasure." Isabel's mouth fell open at the words. She could not think of a single thing to say in response. "Oh

Un momento con una donna capricciosa vale undici anni di vita noiosa. A single moment with a fiery female is worth eleven years of a boring life.

We are a motley bunch. But we more than make up for it with tenacity." ~ Ralston to Simon

She winced, knowing what was to come, "Calpurnia." She closed her eyes again, embarrassed by the extravagant name - a name with which no one but a helplessly romantic mother with an unhealthy obsession with Shakespeare would have considered saddling a child.

Nick spoke again. "Her legitimacy will be questioned." Gabriel thought for several moments. "If our mother married her father, it means that the marchioness must have converted to Catholicism upon arriving in Italy. The Catholic Church would never have acknowledged her marriage in the Church of England." "Ah, so it is we who are illegitimate." Nick's words were punctuated with a wry smile. "To Italians, at least," Gabriel said. "Luckily, we are English." "Excellent. That works out well for us.

She did not want to be that woman - the one of whom they spoke. She had never planned to be that woman. Somehow, it had happened, however...somehow, she had lost her way and, without realizing it, she had chosen this staid, boring life instead of a different, more adventurous one.

I enjoyed every bit of the evening. I may not drink scotch or smoke a cheroot again, but I shall always cherish the fact that I did those things. The adventure is well worth the disappointing experience.

She tilted her head, considering the sensation. "It is strange." He gave a hiss of laughter at the words. "It only gets stranger, darling. But we shall try for something more.

It was a terrifying feeling. And if it was love, he wanted none of it.

But she had dreamed of being his for too long. He had quite ruined her for a marriage of convenience. She wanted everything from him: his mind, his body, his name and, most of all, his heart.

He raked his fingers through his hair. "She doesn't need me." Ralston smirked. "You are laboring under that mistaken impression that it is their job to need us. In my experience it is almost always the other way around.

If I am an empress, he is the only man worthy of being my emperor.

You plan to be a challenge, do you?" Juliana smiled angelically. "I agreed to remain, my lord. Not to remain silent.

Fortuitous mostly for me,Lady Holloway," she said, her gaze steadfast on her husband. "For without our being childhgood neighbors, I am certain that my husband woud never have found me." Michael's gaze lit with admiration, and he lifted his glass in her direction. "At some point I would have realized what I was missing, darling. An I would have come looking for you.

I've loved him for a decade. And I had him for one day before I made a complete and utter mess of things. Or he did. I'm still not sure about that.

..he wanted her. And at another time, as another man, he would have her. Without hesitation. As lover. . . as more.

She had wanted more than she could have. She had wanted him, and more... she had wanted him to want her. In the name of something bigger than tradition, bolder than reputation, more important than a silly title.

Even as she’d come to know the real Ralston—the Ralston who was not cut from heroic cloth—Callie had failed to see the truth. And, instead of seeing her own heartbreak coming, she had fallen in love, not with her fantasy, but with this new, flawed Ralston.

How could she go on without him? And, at the same time, how could she go on knowing that every moment of their time together had meant so little to him

do not like this taste for adventure you have developed, sister.” “I am afraid I cannot guarantee I shall be rid of it anytime soon.

Benedick looked to the ceiling as though begging for divine patience. Or for the Lord to strike his sister down. Callie couldn’t quite discern which.

You cheated!” He looked at her, wide-eyed with feigned outrage. “I beg your pardon. If you were a man, I would call you out for that accusation.” “And I assure you, my lord, that I would ride forth victoriously on behalf of truth, humility, and righteousness.” “Are you quoting the Bible to me?” “Indeed,” she said primly, the portrait of piousness. “While gambling.” “What better location to attempt to reform one such as you?

It didn’t matter the quality of the writing— Callie’s fantasies about her fictional heroes were entirely democratic.