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309 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published January 23, 2009
Guests had begun arriving from other engagements, and the parlor was now noisy in addition to crowded. He deliberately sought out Sophie so as to avoid meeting her. Despite the crush, he found her quickly [..] She stood near the middle of the room with his cousin Harry’s wife Margaret, facing the door he’d come in by. Sophie’s dark-lashed eyes were fixed on a woman he’d once have pursued straight to a mattress. Mrs. Peters stood with her back to him, so he could only imagine the quizzical expression on her face from the way her head was tipped to one side. Margaret watched Mrs. Peters with an expression that suggested whatever she was hearing from the woman was not to her liking. Sophie looked as if she’d d just been insulted.
She was a wicked woman now. An immoral woman. And she didn’t much care.
He didn’t want Sophie to be a lover of his. What he wanted was to a permanent, legal relationship duly sanctified by the Church of England. But he knew better than to the raise the subject directly … “If that’s all I’m to have from you Sophie, we’re lovers.”
Anxiety pressed in on Banallt, which annoyed him to no end. What he wanted from this moment was proof she hadn't taken possession of his heart. That his memories of her, of the two of them, were distorted by past circumstance. They had met during a turbulent time in his life during which he had perhaps not always behaved as a gentleman ought. They had parted on a day that had forever scarred him. He wanted to see her as plain and uninteresting. He wanted to think that, after all, he'd been mistaken about her eyes. He wanted his fascination with her to have vanished.
None of that had happened. (p. 2)
She was no beauty. Not at first glance. Not even at second glance. [...] The first time he saw her he'd thought it a pity a woman with eyes like hers wasn't better looking. Not the only time he'd misjudged her; merely the first. (p. 2)
Met they had, and Christ, he'd fallen hard. Precisely, he thought, because she was so unexpectedly the opposite of everything. The opposite of his expectations, the opposite of his desires, the opposite of any woman ever to flit into his imagination. (p. 6)
"Naturally, we met. I thought her---" What was he to say? Heartbreaking. And then intriguing, and at last, utterly beguiling. "---charming." (p. 7)
Just that one look from her and all his pent-up and repressed feelings for her returned in force: his anticipation of her company; his delight in her intellect, her wit, her eyes; the way his body clenched when he was near her. No, nothing at all had changed. (p. 11)
She looked at him, and, as ever, he felt a shock at the beauty of her eyes. Thick, thick lashes framed her almond eyes. And the color, my God, a lucid blue green, an astonishing shade sparked to life by her formidable wits. A man could lose his soul in her eyes. A man had. (p. 13)
"I would not marry a man I did not love. And therefore, if I were married to you, it would be because I was in love. And to a woman in love, faithfulness is the air she breathes, not a meal she chooses. One day this, another that. Changing menus all the time because one grows bored." (p. 84)
Their silence was not uncomfortable. Silence between them never had been, unless she was angry with him. He let the silence continue. What, after all, did a man say to the woman who had refused his heart? Though he would allow that perhaps his had been badly offered. [...] He was aware, damn it all, far too aware, of her dainty figure at his side. He could ignore his response to her. He could. And would. (p. 101)
Her eyes turned dreamy. He imagined gazing into her eyes while she came to passion. Inappropriate, yes, but he was a man, after all, and he was not over her no matter how often he told himself that he was. (p. 106)
Banallt was far too aware of Sophie. He had years of practice in not staring at a woman who interested him if his doing so might arouse suspicion. The skill he'd honed to an art form eluded him now. His present circumstances were fundamentally different than in those days. Before Sophie, his interaction with women had been, in essence, about him. [...] With Sophie, the compulsion to stare came from someplace deep inside him, and he could no more stop himself from looking at her than he could stop breathing. (p. 154)
She was not beautiful, not by any objective standard, and yet somehow her features fit together in a way such that he could not help staring, enraptured. (p. 157)
"You've been in my dreams for so long, now that you're real, my hands are shaking, Sophie." His laugh was a soft and velvet rumble in her ear. "I may never get you undressed."
She turned, pressing her hands to her upper chest to keep her gown from falling away. His eyes pierced her, and the backs of her knees tingled. "You mean that, don't you?"
He hooked a finger in the bodice she held trapped against her body and pulled. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever known. You know that's what I think. Don't pretend you don't."
"Look at me, Banallt, and say that. Really look at me." She ran a finger the length of her unfortunate nose.
"I look at you and see a woman who makes my hands tremble." (p. 166)
She wasn't his. Not legally. He could as yet lay no claim to her heart. He wanted the ceremony that would make her indisputably his. He wanted Sophie to be the mother of his children. He wanted Sophie. He wouldn't ever be whole without her. (p. 180)
He wanted her body under his, wrapped around his. He wanted her breath low and on the edge of control, her voice capable of nothing but a ragged echo of his name. (p. 234)
"The first thing Gwilym, Earl of Banallt, noticed when he rounded the drive was Sophie perched on the ledge of a low fountain. Surely, he thought, some other explanation existed for the hard slow thud of his heart against his ribs. After all, he hadn't seen her in well over a year, and they had not parted on the best of terms. He ought to be over her by now. And yet the jolt of seeing her again shot straight through to his soul.
He was dismayed beyond words."
He ought to be over her by now. And yet the jolt of seeing her again shot straight through to his soul.
He was dismayed beyond words.
"Before Sophie, his interaction with women had been, in essence, about him. His choices. His reactions. His anticipation. Back then, he didn't gaze endlessly at a woman who struck his fancy, because if he did, his seduction of her would have been thwarted by gossip or someone's interference. With Sophie, the compulsion to stare came from someplace deep inside him, and he could no more stop himself from looking at her than he could stop breathing."
"His eyes, flat, nearly dead, fixed on her, but something in her reacted to that lifeless silver."Blech! That was a very poor choice of words. There is a large difference between having guarded or empty eyes and having “lifeless” eyes. We’re not dealing with zombies here, people. Reading about someone’s lifeless eyes in a sex scene that’s supposed to be filled with passion totally kills the mood for me.
"Sometimes I think about it, that giddy feeling in your stomach, feeling as if you'll die if he doesn't smile at you. The part of me that loved Tommy like that leaves me sick." Her voice fell. "I'm nothing but ashes inside. My heart's burnt up. I've nothing to give a marriage, Banallt."