“My heart only ever had one thought, one want. One need. Despite all, in spite of all...All my heart has ever wanted is you.”
―
Stephanie Laurens,
The Edge of Desire
“Just because I'm not forever by your side doesn't mean that's not precisely where I want to be.” ― Stephanie Laurens, A Rogue's Proposal
“Frowning, she looked up. "You can't want to ravish me every time we meet."Oh, yes, he could. Demon gritted his teeth...” ― Stephanie Laurens, A Rogue's Proposal
“I’m not a gentleman, I’m a nobleman, a distinction I suspect you understand very well.” ― Stephanie Laurens, Devil's Bride
“Climb every mountain , Ford Every streamFollow every rainbow ,'Till you find your dream” ― Stephanie Laurens, A Rake's Vow
“Love wasn't a happening one decided on---to indulge or not, to partake or not. To feel or not. When it came, when it struck, the only decision left to make was how to respond---whether you embraced it, took it in, and made it a part of you, or whether you turned your back and let it die.” ― Stephanie Laurens, The Truth About Love
“You may set your mind at rest, Miss Anstruther-Wetherby." He glanced down, the planes of his face granite-hard. "I'm not marrying you because of any social stricture. That, if you consider it, is a nonsensical idea. Cynsters, as you well know, do not give a damn about social strictures. Society, as far as we're concerned, can think what it pleases—it does not rule us.""But… if that's the case—and given your reputation I can readily believe it is—why insist on marrying me?""Because I want to."The words were delivered as the most patently obvious answer to a simple question. Honoria held on to her temper. "Because you want to?"He nodded."That's it? Just because you want to?"The look he sent her was calculated to quell. "For a Cynster, that's a perfectly adequate reason. In fact, for a Cynster, there is no better reason."He looked ahead again; Honoria glanced at his profile. "This is ridiculous. You only set eyes on me yesterday, and now you want to marry me?"Again he nodded."Why?"The glance he shot her was too brief for her to read. "It so happens I need a wife, and you're the perfect candidate." With that, he altered their direction and lengthened his stride even more."I am not a racehorse."His lips thinned, but he slowed--just enough so she didn't have to run. They'd gained the graveled walk that circled the house. It took her a moment to replay his words, another to see their weakness. "That's still ridiculous. You must have half the female population of the ton waiting to catch your handkerchief every time you blow your nose."He didn't even glance her way. "At least half.""So why me?"Devil considered telling her--in graphic detail. Instead, he gritted his teeth and growled: "Because you're unique.""Unique?"Unique in that she was arguing.” ― Stephanie Laurens, Devil's Bride
“She searched his face. "Why did you do this -- go to all this trouble, indulge in what I'm sure will prove a shockingly hideous expense?He returned he gaze steadily "You like music."It was that simple -- he let her read the truth in his eyes. Then she shivered. He reached for the shawl she'd left over her chair and held it up. She hesitated, then turned so he could drape it over her shoulders. Releasing the fine silk, he closed his hands about her shoulders; leaning closer, he murmured, "As with other pleasures, my reward is your delight.” ― Stephanie Laurens, A Secret Love
“I'm a Cynster--I've been raised to acquire, defend, and protect. My family is the core of my existence--without a family, without children, I'd have nothing to protect, no reason to acquire.” ― Stephanie Laurens, Devil's Bride
“You, me---we're not the same, but we---our lives---somehow fit together.” ― Stephanie Laurens, Where the Heart Leads
“You like my kisses - and I like kissing you. Why deny ourselves such innocent pleasure?” ― Stephanie Laurens, Devil's Bride
“She drew a swift breath, and let it out on the words: "I love you—more than I've ever loved anyone. I love you so profoundly it goes beyond all reason. And I could never let you go—let you be taken from me—that would be the same as letting life itself go, because you are life to me.” ― Stephanie Laurens, Devil's Bride
“You also," he said, lowering his voice, "haven't yetthanked me for saving you from sitting in the flower bed."She didn't even look up. "It was entirely your fault that I nearly did. If you hadn't sneaked up on me, I wouldn't have been in any danger of landing in the weeds." She glanced briefly at him, a touch of color in her cheeks. "A gentleman would have coughed or something."Vane trapped her gaze, and smiled—a slow, Cynster smile. "Ah," he murmured, his voice very low. He shifted fractionally closer. "But, you see, I'm not a gentleman. I'm a Cynster." As if letting her into some secret, he gently informed her: "We're conquerors—not gentlemen.” ― Stephanie Laurens, A Rake's Vow
“My heart only have one thought, one want. One néed. Despite all, in spite of all....All my heart has ever wanted is you.” ― Stephanie Laurens
“My brand of persuasion doesn't work well at a distance.” ― Stephanie Laurens, Devil's Bride
“Don't misunderstand, but how dare you risk your life? What the devil did you think, to leap over like that? You could have stayed safe on this side and just helped me over." Even to her ears, her tone bordered on the hysterical.Beneath her fingers, the white lawn started to redden.She sucked in a shaky breath. "How could you risk your life-your life, you idiot!" She leaned harder on the pad, dragged in another breath.He coughed weakly, shifted his head."Don't you dare die on me!"His lips twisted, but his eyes remained closed. "But if I die"-his words were a whisper-"you won't have to marry, me or anyone else. Even the most censorious in the ton will consider my death to be the end of the matter. You'll be free.""Free?" Then his earlier words registered. "If you die? I told you-don't you dare! I won't let you-I forbid you to. How can I marry you if you die? And how the hell will I live if you aren't alive, too?" As the words left her mouth, half hysterical, all emotion, she realized they were the literal truth. Her life wouldn't be worth living if he wasn't there to share it. "What will I do with my life if you die?"He softly snorted, apparently unimpressed by-or was it not registering?-her panic. "Marry some other poor sod, like you were planning to."The words cut. "You are the only poor sod I'm planning to marry." Her waspish response came on a rush of rising fear. She glanced around, but there was no one in sight. Help had yet to come running.She looked back at him, readjusted the pressure on the slowly reddening pad. "I intend not only to marry you but to lead you by the nose for the rest of your days. It's the least I can do to repay you for this-for the shock to my nerves. I'll have you know I'd decided even before this little incident to reverse my decision and become your viscountess, and lead you such a merry dance through the ballrooms and drawing rooms that you'll be gray within two years."He humphed softly, dismissively, but he was listening. Studying his face, she realized her nonsense was distracting him from the pain. She engaged her imagination and let her tongue run free. "I've decided I'll redecorate Baraclough in the French Imperial style-all that white and gilt and spindly legs, with all the chairs so delicate you won't dare sit down. And while we're on the subject of your-our-country home, I've had an idea about my carriage, the one you'll buy me as a wedding gift..."She rambled on, paying scant attention to her words, simply let them and all the images she'd dreamed of come tumbling out, painting a vibrant, fanciful, yet in many ways-all the ways that counted-accurate word pictures of her hopes, her aspirations. Her vision of their life together.When the well started to run dry, when her voice started to thicken with tears at the fear that they might no longer have a chance to enjoy all she'd described, she concluded with, "So you absolutely can't die now." Fear prodded; almost incensed, she blurted, "Not when I was about to back down and agree to return to London with you."He moistened his lips. Whispered, "You were?""Yes! I was!" His fading voice tipped her toward panic. Her voice rose in reaction. "I can't believe you were so foolish as to risk your life like this! You didn't need to put yourself in danger to save me.""Yes, I did." The words were firmer, bitten off through clenched teeth.She caught his anger. Was anger good. Would temper hold him to the world?A frown drew down his black brows. "You can't be so damned foolish as to think I wouldn't-after protecting you through all this, seeing you safely all this way, watching over you all this time, what else was I going to do?” ― Stephanie Laurens, Viscount Breckenridge to the Rescue
“..the family motto, after all, is 'To Have and To Hold'. We were always a warrior breed, but we don't fight solely for lands and material wealth. There's an understanding, drummed into all of us from our earliest years, that success-true success-means capturing and holding , something more. That something more is the future-to excel is very well, but one needs to excel and survive. To seize lands is well and good, but we want to hold them for all time. Which means creating and building a family-defending the family that is, and creating the next generation. Because it's the next generation that's our future. Without securing that future, material success is no real success at all.” ― Stephanie Laurens, Scandal's Bride
“You are riding for a fall, Your Grace,""I'll be riding you before Christmas.” ― Stephanie Laurens, Devil's Bride
“She stared at him, at his face. Simply stared as the scales fell from her eyes. "Oh, my God," she whispered, the exclamation so quiet not even he would hear. She suddenly saw-saw it all-all that she'd simply taken for granted.Men like him protected those they loved, selflessly, unswervingly, even unto death. The realization rocked her. Pieces of the jigsaw of her understanding of him fell into place. He was hanging to consciousness by a thread. She had to be sure-and his shields, his defenses were at their weakest now.Looking down at her hands, pressed over the nearly saturated pad, she hunted for the words, the right tone. Softly said, "My death, even my serious injury, would have freed you from any obligation to marry me. Society would have accepted that outcome, too."He shifted, clearly in pain. She sucked in a breath-feeling his pain as her own-then he clamped the long fingers of his right hand about her wrist, held tight.So tight she felt he was using her as an anchor to consciousness, to the world.His tone, when he spoke, was harsh. "Oh, yes-after I'd expended so much effort keeping you safe all these years, safe even from me, I was suddenly going to stand by and let you be gored by some mangy bull." He snorted, soft, low. Weakly. He drew in a slow, shallow breath, lips thin with pain, but determined, went on, "You think I'd let you get injured when finally after all these long years I at last understand that the reason you've always made me itch is because you are the only woman I actually want to marry? And you think I would stand back and let you be harmed?"A peevish frown crossed his face. "I ask you, is that likely? Is it even vaguely rational?"He went on, his words increasingly slurred, his tongue tripping over some, his voice fading. She listened, strained to catch every word as he slid into semi delirium, into rambling, disjointed sentences that she drank in, held to her heart.He gave her dreams back to her, reshaped and refined. "Not French Imperial-good, sound, English oak. You can use whatever colors you like, but no gilt-I forbid it."Eventually he ventured further than she had. "And I want at least three children-not just an heir and a spare. At least three-if you're agreeable. We'll have to have two boys, of course-my evil ugly sisters will found us to make good on that. But thereafter...as many girls as you like...as long as they look like you. Or perhaps Cordelia-she's the handsomer of the two uglies."He loved his sisters, his evil ugly sisters. Heather listened with tears in her eyes as his mind drifted and his voice gradually faded, weakened.She'd finally got her declaration, not in anything like the words she'd expected, but in a stronger, impossible-to-doubt exposition.He'd been her protector, unswerving, unflinching, always there; from a man like him, focused on a lady like her, such actions were tantamount to a declaration from the rooftops. The love she'd wanted him to admit to had been there all along, demonstrated daily right before her eyes, but she hadn't seen.Hadn't seen because she'd been focusing elsewhere, and because, conditioned as she was to resisting the same style of possessive protectiveness from her brothers, from her cousins, she hadn't appreciated his, hadn't realized that that quality had to be an expression of his feelings for her.Until now.Until now that he'd all but given his life for hers.He loved her-he'd always loved her. She saw that now, looking back down the years. He'd loved her from the time she'd fallen in love with him-the instant they'd laid eyes on each other at Michael and Caro's wedding in Hampshire four years ago.He'd held aloof, held away-held her at bay, too-believing, wrongly, that he wasn't an appropriate husband for her.In that, he'd been wrong, too.She saw it all. And as the tears overflowed and tracked down her cheeks, she knew to her soul how right he was for her. Knew, embraced, and rejoiced.” ― Stephanie Laurens, Viscount Breckenridge to the Rescue
“Just because I'm not forever by your side doesn't mean that's not precisely where I want to be.” ― Stephanie Laurens, A Rogue's Proposal
“Frowning, she looked up. "You can't want to ravish me every time we meet."Oh, yes, he could. Demon gritted his teeth...” ― Stephanie Laurens, A Rogue's Proposal
“I’m not a gentleman, I’m a nobleman, a distinction I suspect you understand very well.” ― Stephanie Laurens, Devil's Bride
“Climb every mountain , Ford Every streamFollow every rainbow ,'Till you find your dream” ― Stephanie Laurens, A Rake's Vow
“Love wasn't a happening one decided on---to indulge or not, to partake or not. To feel or not. When it came, when it struck, the only decision left to make was how to respond---whether you embraced it, took it in, and made it a part of you, or whether you turned your back and let it die.” ― Stephanie Laurens, The Truth About Love
“You may set your mind at rest, Miss Anstruther-Wetherby." He glanced down, the planes of his face granite-hard. "I'm not marrying you because of any social stricture. That, if you consider it, is a nonsensical idea. Cynsters, as you well know, do not give a damn about social strictures. Society, as far as we're concerned, can think what it pleases—it does not rule us.""But… if that's the case—and given your reputation I can readily believe it is—why insist on marrying me?""Because I want to."The words were delivered as the most patently obvious answer to a simple question. Honoria held on to her temper. "Because you want to?"He nodded."That's it? Just because you want to?"The look he sent her was calculated to quell. "For a Cynster, that's a perfectly adequate reason. In fact, for a Cynster, there is no better reason."He looked ahead again; Honoria glanced at his profile. "This is ridiculous. You only set eyes on me yesterday, and now you want to marry me?"Again he nodded."Why?"The glance he shot her was too brief for her to read. "It so happens I need a wife, and you're the perfect candidate." With that, he altered their direction and lengthened his stride even more."I am not a racehorse."His lips thinned, but he slowed--just enough so she didn't have to run. They'd gained the graveled walk that circled the house. It took her a moment to replay his words, another to see their weakness. "That's still ridiculous. You must have half the female population of the ton waiting to catch your handkerchief every time you blow your nose."He didn't even glance her way. "At least half.""So why me?"Devil considered telling her--in graphic detail. Instead, he gritted his teeth and growled: "Because you're unique.""Unique?"Unique in that she was arguing.” ― Stephanie Laurens, Devil's Bride
“She searched his face. "Why did you do this -- go to all this trouble, indulge in what I'm sure will prove a shockingly hideous expense?He returned he gaze steadily "You like music."It was that simple -- he let her read the truth in his eyes. Then she shivered. He reached for the shawl she'd left over her chair and held it up. She hesitated, then turned so he could drape it over her shoulders. Releasing the fine silk, he closed his hands about her shoulders; leaning closer, he murmured, "As with other pleasures, my reward is your delight.” ― Stephanie Laurens, A Secret Love
“I'm a Cynster--I've been raised to acquire, defend, and protect. My family is the core of my existence--without a family, without children, I'd have nothing to protect, no reason to acquire.” ― Stephanie Laurens, Devil's Bride
“You, me---we're not the same, but we---our lives---somehow fit together.” ― Stephanie Laurens, Where the Heart Leads
“You like my kisses - and I like kissing you. Why deny ourselves such innocent pleasure?” ― Stephanie Laurens, Devil's Bride
“She drew a swift breath, and let it out on the words: "I love you—more than I've ever loved anyone. I love you so profoundly it goes beyond all reason. And I could never let you go—let you be taken from me—that would be the same as letting life itself go, because you are life to me.” ― Stephanie Laurens, Devil's Bride
“You also," he said, lowering his voice, "haven't yetthanked me for saving you from sitting in the flower bed."She didn't even look up. "It was entirely your fault that I nearly did. If you hadn't sneaked up on me, I wouldn't have been in any danger of landing in the weeds." She glanced briefly at him, a touch of color in her cheeks. "A gentleman would have coughed or something."Vane trapped her gaze, and smiled—a slow, Cynster smile. "Ah," he murmured, his voice very low. He shifted fractionally closer. "But, you see, I'm not a gentleman. I'm a Cynster." As if letting her into some secret, he gently informed her: "We're conquerors—not gentlemen.” ― Stephanie Laurens, A Rake's Vow
“My heart only have one thought, one want. One néed. Despite all, in spite of all....All my heart has ever wanted is you.” ― Stephanie Laurens
“My brand of persuasion doesn't work well at a distance.” ― Stephanie Laurens, Devil's Bride
“Don't misunderstand, but how dare you risk your life? What the devil did you think, to leap over like that? You could have stayed safe on this side and just helped me over." Even to her ears, her tone bordered on the hysterical.Beneath her fingers, the white lawn started to redden.She sucked in a shaky breath. "How could you risk your life-your life, you idiot!" She leaned harder on the pad, dragged in another breath.He coughed weakly, shifted his head."Don't you dare die on me!"His lips twisted, but his eyes remained closed. "But if I die"-his words were a whisper-"you won't have to marry, me or anyone else. Even the most censorious in the ton will consider my death to be the end of the matter. You'll be free.""Free?" Then his earlier words registered. "If you die? I told you-don't you dare! I won't let you-I forbid you to. How can I marry you if you die? And how the hell will I live if you aren't alive, too?" As the words left her mouth, half hysterical, all emotion, she realized they were the literal truth. Her life wouldn't be worth living if he wasn't there to share it. "What will I do with my life if you die?"He softly snorted, apparently unimpressed by-or was it not registering?-her panic. "Marry some other poor sod, like you were planning to."The words cut. "You are the only poor sod I'm planning to marry." Her waspish response came on a rush of rising fear. She glanced around, but there was no one in sight. Help had yet to come running.She looked back at him, readjusted the pressure on the slowly reddening pad. "I intend not only to marry you but to lead you by the nose for the rest of your days. It's the least I can do to repay you for this-for the shock to my nerves. I'll have you know I'd decided even before this little incident to reverse my decision and become your viscountess, and lead you such a merry dance through the ballrooms and drawing rooms that you'll be gray within two years."He humphed softly, dismissively, but he was listening. Studying his face, she realized her nonsense was distracting him from the pain. She engaged her imagination and let her tongue run free. "I've decided I'll redecorate Baraclough in the French Imperial style-all that white and gilt and spindly legs, with all the chairs so delicate you won't dare sit down. And while we're on the subject of your-our-country home, I've had an idea about my carriage, the one you'll buy me as a wedding gift..."She rambled on, paying scant attention to her words, simply let them and all the images she'd dreamed of come tumbling out, painting a vibrant, fanciful, yet in many ways-all the ways that counted-accurate word pictures of her hopes, her aspirations. Her vision of their life together.When the well started to run dry, when her voice started to thicken with tears at the fear that they might no longer have a chance to enjoy all she'd described, she concluded with, "So you absolutely can't die now." Fear prodded; almost incensed, she blurted, "Not when I was about to back down and agree to return to London with you."He moistened his lips. Whispered, "You were?""Yes! I was!" His fading voice tipped her toward panic. Her voice rose in reaction. "I can't believe you were so foolish as to risk your life like this! You didn't need to put yourself in danger to save me.""Yes, I did." The words were firmer, bitten off through clenched teeth.She caught his anger. Was anger good. Would temper hold him to the world?A frown drew down his black brows. "You can't be so damned foolish as to think I wouldn't-after protecting you through all this, seeing you safely all this way, watching over you all this time, what else was I going to do?” ― Stephanie Laurens, Viscount Breckenridge to the Rescue
“..the family motto, after all, is 'To Have and To Hold'. We were always a warrior breed, but we don't fight solely for lands and material wealth. There's an understanding, drummed into all of us from our earliest years, that success-true success-means capturing and holding , something more. That something more is the future-to excel is very well, but one needs to excel and survive. To seize lands is well and good, but we want to hold them for all time. Which means creating and building a family-defending the family that is, and creating the next generation. Because it's the next generation that's our future. Without securing that future, material success is no real success at all.” ― Stephanie Laurens, Scandal's Bride
“You are riding for a fall, Your Grace,""I'll be riding you before Christmas.” ― Stephanie Laurens, Devil's Bride
“She stared at him, at his face. Simply stared as the scales fell from her eyes. "Oh, my God," she whispered, the exclamation so quiet not even he would hear. She suddenly saw-saw it all-all that she'd simply taken for granted.Men like him protected those they loved, selflessly, unswervingly, even unto death. The realization rocked her. Pieces of the jigsaw of her understanding of him fell into place. He was hanging to consciousness by a thread. She had to be sure-and his shields, his defenses were at their weakest now.Looking down at her hands, pressed over the nearly saturated pad, she hunted for the words, the right tone. Softly said, "My death, even my serious injury, would have freed you from any obligation to marry me. Society would have accepted that outcome, too."He shifted, clearly in pain. She sucked in a breath-feeling his pain as her own-then he clamped the long fingers of his right hand about her wrist, held tight.So tight she felt he was using her as an anchor to consciousness, to the world.His tone, when he spoke, was harsh. "Oh, yes-after I'd expended so much effort keeping you safe all these years, safe even from me, I was suddenly going to stand by and let you be gored by some mangy bull." He snorted, soft, low. Weakly. He drew in a slow, shallow breath, lips thin with pain, but determined, went on, "You think I'd let you get injured when finally after all these long years I at last understand that the reason you've always made me itch is because you are the only woman I actually want to marry? And you think I would stand back and let you be harmed?"A peevish frown crossed his face. "I ask you, is that likely? Is it even vaguely rational?"He went on, his words increasingly slurred, his tongue tripping over some, his voice fading. She listened, strained to catch every word as he slid into semi delirium, into rambling, disjointed sentences that she drank in, held to her heart.He gave her dreams back to her, reshaped and refined. "Not French Imperial-good, sound, English oak. You can use whatever colors you like, but no gilt-I forbid it."Eventually he ventured further than she had. "And I want at least three children-not just an heir and a spare. At least three-if you're agreeable. We'll have to have two boys, of course-my evil ugly sisters will found us to make good on that. But thereafter...as many girls as you like...as long as they look like you. Or perhaps Cordelia-she's the handsomer of the two uglies."He loved his sisters, his evil ugly sisters. Heather listened with tears in her eyes as his mind drifted and his voice gradually faded, weakened.She'd finally got her declaration, not in anything like the words she'd expected, but in a stronger, impossible-to-doubt exposition.He'd been her protector, unswerving, unflinching, always there; from a man like him, focused on a lady like her, such actions were tantamount to a declaration from the rooftops. The love she'd wanted him to admit to had been there all along, demonstrated daily right before her eyes, but she hadn't seen.Hadn't seen because she'd been focusing elsewhere, and because, conditioned as she was to resisting the same style of possessive protectiveness from her brothers, from her cousins, she hadn't appreciated his, hadn't realized that that quality had to be an expression of his feelings for her.Until now.Until now that he'd all but given his life for hers.He loved her-he'd always loved her. She saw that now, looking back down the years. He'd loved her from the time she'd fallen in love with him-the instant they'd laid eyes on each other at Michael and Caro's wedding in Hampshire four years ago.He'd held aloof, held away-held her at bay, too-believing, wrongly, that he wasn't an appropriate husband for her.In that, he'd been wrong, too.She saw it all. And as the tears overflowed and tracked down her cheeks, she knew to her soul how right he was for her. Knew, embraced, and rejoiced.” ― Stephanie Laurens, Viscount Breckenridge to the Rescue
