Beatrix And Christopher Quotes

“I fell in love with you, and I knew I could never have you. I couldn't pretend to be Pru any longer. I loved you so much, and I couldn't-"
Her words were abruptly smothered.
He was kissing her, she realized dazedly. What did it mean? What did he want? What... but her thoughts dissolved, and she stopped trying to make sense of anything.
His arms had closed around her, one hand gripping the back of her neck. Shaken to her soul, she molded against him. Taking her sobs into his mouth, he licked deep, his kiss strong and savage. It had to be a dream, and yet her senses insisted it was real, the scent and warmth and toughness of him engulfing her. He pulled her even more tightly against him, making it difficult to breathe. She didn't care. The pleasure of the kiss suffused her, drugged her, and when he pulled his head back, she protested with a bewildered moan.
Christopher forced her to look back at him. "Loved?" he asked hoarsely. "Past tense?"
"Present tense," she managed to say.
"You told me to find you."
"I didn't mean to send you that note."
"But you did. You wanted me."
"Yes." More tears escaped her stinging eyes. He bent and pressed his mouth to them, tasting the salt of grief.
Those gray eyes looked into hers, no longer bright as hellfrost, but soft as smoke. "I love you, Beatrix."
Maybe she was capable of swooning after all.
It certainly felt like a swoon, her knees giving way, her head lolling against his shoulder as he lowered them both to the threadbare carpet. Fitting his arm beneath her neck, Christopher covered her mouth with his again. Beatrix answered helplessly, unable to withhold anything. Their legs tangled, and he let his thigh nuzzle between hers.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Love in the Afternoon

“It rained in Hampshire yesterday, a soft autumn storm that brought down hardly any leaves. The dahlias are no longer in stem, and frost has withered the chrysanthemums, but the air smells divine, like old leaves and wet bark, and ripe apples. Have you ever noticed that each month has its own smell? May and October are the nicest-smelling months, in my opinion.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Love in the Afternoon

“There was also a package wrapped in pale blue paper and tied with a matching ribbon. Picking up a small folded note that had been tucked under the ribbon, Beatrix read:

A gift for your wedding night, darling Bea. This gown was made by the most fashionable modiste in London. It is rather different from the ones you usually wear, but it will be very pleasing to a bridegroom. Trust me about this.
-Poppy

Holding the nightgown up, Beatrix saw that it was made of black gossamer and fastened with tiny jet buttons. Since the only nightgowns she had ever worn had been of modest white cambric or muslin, this was rather shocking. However, if it was what husbands liked...
After removing her corset and her other underpinnings, Beatrix drew the gown over her head and let a slither over her body in a cool, silky drift. The thin fabric draped closely over her shoulders and torso and buttoned at the waist before flowing to the ground in transparent panels. A side slit went up to her hip, exposing her leg when she moved. And her back was shockingly exposed, the gown dipping low against her spine. Pulling the pins and combs from her hair, she dropped them into the muslin bag in the trunk.
Tentatively she emerged from behind the screen.
Christopher had just finished pouring two glasses of champagne. He turned toward her and froze, except for his gaze, which traveled over her in a burning sweep. "My God," he muttered, and drained his champagne. Setting the empty glass aside, he gripped the other as if he were afraid it might slip through his fingers.
"Do you like my nightgown?" Beatrix asked.
Christopher nodded, not taking his gaze from her. "Where's the rest of it?"
"This was all I could find." Unable to resist teasing him, Beatrix twisted and tried to see the back view. "I wonder if I put it on backward..."
"Let me see." As she turned to reveal the naked line of her back, Christopher drew in a harsh breath.
Although Beatrix heard him mumble a curse, she didn't take offense, deducing that Poppy had been right about the nightgown. And when he drained the second glass of champagne, forgetting that it was hers, Beatrix sternly repressed a grin. She went to the bed and climbed onto the mattress, relishing the billowy softness of its quilts and linens. Reclining on her side, she made no attempt to cover her exposed leg as the gossamer fabric fell open to her hip.
Christopher came to her, stripping off his shirt along the way. The sight of him, all that flexing muscle and sun-glazed skin, was breathtaking. He was a beautiful man, a scarred Apollo, a dream lover. And he was hers.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Love in the Afternoon

“In the case of Leo, however, Beatrix assured Christopher that in spite of his sharp tongue, Leo was a caring and loyal brother. "You'll come to like him very well," she said. "But it's no surprise that you feel more comfortable around Cam- you're both foxes."
"Foxes?" Christopher had repeated, amused.
"Yes. I can always tell what kind of animal a person would be. Foxes are hunters, but they don't rely on brute strength. They're subtle and clever. Fond of outwitting others. And although they sometimes travel far, they always like to come back to a snug, safe home."
"I suppose Leo is a lion," Christopher said dryly.
"Oh, yes. Dramatic, demonstrative, and he hates being ignored. And sometimes he'll take a swipe at you. But beneath the sharp claws and the growls, he's still a cat."
"What animal are you?"
"A ferret. We can't help collecting things. When we're awake, we're very busy, but we also like to be still for long periods." She grinned at him. "And ferrets are very affectionate.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Love in the Afternoon

“I shouldn't have spoken to you as I did earlier. For my family, arguing is a sport- we forget that some people tend to take it personally." One of her fingertips drew an intricate little pattern on his thigh. "But I have redeeming qualities," she continued. "I never mind dog hair, for example. And I can pick up small objects with my toes, which is a surprisingly useful talent."
Christopher's numbness started melting like spring ice. And it had nothing to do with the Armagnac. It was all Beatrix.
God, he adored her.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Love in the Afternoon

“Christopher..." Her voice was trembling. "I wish..."
"Yes?"
It was so terribly selfish, and yet she couldn't help from blurting out, "I wish there had been no other women before me."
He looked down at her in a way that made her feel as if she were dissolving in honey. His mouth descended, caressing hers with tender, urgent warmth. "My heart belongs only to you," he whispered. "It was never lovemaking before. This is a first for me, too."
She puzzled over that, staring into his bright, lambent eyes. "Then it's different, when one is in love?"
"Beatrix, dearest love, it's beyond anything I've ever known. Beyond dreams.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Love in the Afternoon

“The scent of him was clean, summery, like hot sun and saffron. Her eyes closed as she felt his body press along hers with an intriguing firmness, his knees digging into the billowing mass of her skirts.
A minute passed, and another. For the rest of her life she would remember lying alone with him in a bright square of sunlight from the window... the delicious weight of him, the intimate heat of his breath collecting against her neck. She would have lived in that moment forever, if it were possible. I love you, she thought. I am madly, desperately, permanently in love with you.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Love in the Afternoon

“Drowning in guilt and fear and desire, she tried to push his caressing hand away from her throat. His fingers delved into her hair with a grip just short of painful. His mouth was close to hers. He was surrounding her, all the strength and force and maleness of him, and she closed her eyes as her senses went quiet and dark in helpless waiting. "I'll make you tell me," she heard him mutter.
And then she was kissing her.
Somehow, Beatrix thought hazily, Christopher seemed to be under the impression she would find his kisses so objectionable that she would confess anything to make him desist. She couldn't think how he had come by such a notion. In fact, she couldn't really think at all.
His mouth moved over hers in supple, intimate angles, until he found some perfect alignment that made her weak all over. She reached around his neck to keep from dropping bonelessly to the floor. Gathering her closer into the hard support of his body, he explored her slowly, the tip of his tongue stroking, tasting.
Her body listed more heavily against his as her limbs became weighted with pleasure. She sensed the moment when his anger was eclipsed by passion, desire changing to white-hot need. Her fingers sank into his beautiful hair, the shorn locks heavy and vibrant, his scalp hot against her palms. With each inhalation, she drew in more of his fragrance, the trace of sandalwood on warm male skin.
His mouth slid from hers and dragged roughly along her throat, crossing sensitive places that made her writhe. Blindly turning her face, she rubbed her lips against his ear. He drew in a sharp breath and jerked his head back. His hand came to her jaw, clamping firmly.
"Tell me what you know," he said, his breath searing her lips. "Or I'll do worse than this. I'll take you here and now. Is that what you want?"
As a matter of fact ...”
― Lisa Kleypas, Love in the Afternoon

“My God, I want you." Christopher sounded far from pleased by the fact. His thumb swept over her kiss-swollen lips.
"Even though I annoy you?"
"You don't annoy me." Carefully he rebuttoned the placket of her shirt. "I thought you did, at first. But now I realize it was more like the feeling you get when your foot's been asleep. And when you start moving, the blood coming back into it is uncomfortable... but also good. Do you understand what I mean?"
"Yes. I make your feet tingle."
A smile came to his lips. "Among other things.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Love in the Afternoon

“...whenever you find a clearing like this," Beatrix said, leading Christopher to a small, sun-dappled meadow, "it's most likely an ancient field enclosure from the Bronze Age. They knew nothing about fertilizing, so when a patch of land became unproductive, they simply cleared a new area. And the old areas became covered with gorse and bracken and heather. And here-" she showed him the cavity of an oak tree near the clearing- "is where I watched a hobby chick hatch in early summer. Hobbies don't build their own nests, they use ones made by other birds. They're so fast when they fly, they look like sickles cutting through the air."
Christopher listened attentively. With the breeze playing lightly in his dark gold hair, and a slight smile on his lips, he was so handsome that it was difficult not to gape at him. "You know all the secrets of this forest, don't you?" he asked gently.
"There's so much to learn, I've only scratched the surface. I've filled books with sketches of animals and plants, and I keep finding new ones to study.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Love in the Afternoon

“Beatrix kissed and nuzzled the back of his neck, sending a new rush of arousal through him. "I'll take care of you, poor lad," she murmured. "Don't worry. I'll break you in gently."
This was new, this mixture of desire and amusement. Christopher turned and put his arms around her, toppling her into his lap. "Oh, you will take care of me," he assured her, and crushed his mouth over hers.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Love in the Afternoon

“Don't come up behind me," Christopher said roughly. "Ever."
"I of all people should have known that. I won't do it again."
Christopher took a fiery swallow of the liquor. "What do you mean, you of all people?"
"I'm used to wild creatures who don't like to be approached from behind."
He shot her a baleful glance. "How fortunate that your experience with animals has turned out to be such good preparation for marriage to me."
"I didn't mean... well, my point was that I should have been more considerate of your nerves."
"I don't have nerves," he snapped.
"I'm sorry. We'll call them something else." Her voice was so soothing and gentle that it would have caused an assortment of cobras, tigers, wolverines, and badgers to all snuggle together and take a group nap.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Love in the Afternoon

“Christopher contemplated Beatrix, who was sitting a few places away from him. Those eyes... midnight blue, innocent and wise, alarmingly perceptive. What a curious mixture of qualities she possessed. She was capable of extraordinary composure and yet she was willing to play like a child. She was intellectual, instinctive, droll. Talking with her was like opening a treasure box to sort through unexpected delights.
As a man not yet thirty, Christopher was only six years older than Beatrix, and yet he felt the difference between them as a hundred. He wanted, needed, to be close to her, while at the same time he had to close away the worst of what he had seen and done, so that it would never touch her.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Love in the Afternoon

“Taking Beatrix's gloved hand in his, Christopher lifted it and pressed a kiss to the back of her wrist. He wanted to carry her away from the crowded drawing room and have her all to himself.
"Soon," Beatrix whispered, as if she had read his thoughts, and he let his gaze caress her. "And don't look at me like that," she added. "It makes my knees wobbly."
"Then I won't tell you what I'd like to do with you right now. Because you'd topple over like a ninepin.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Love in the Afternoon

“I'm sorry," she said quietly, knowing that he was thinking about Mark Bennett, the friend he hadn't been able to save. "I know why this medal is so odious to you."
Christopher made no reply. From the near-palpable tension he radiated, she understood that all of the dark memories he harbored, this was one of the worst.
"Is it possible to refuse the medal?" she asked. "To forfeit it?"
"Not voluntarily. I'd have to do something illegal or hideous to invoke the expulsion clause."
"We could plan a crime for you to commit," Beatrix suggested. "I'm sure my family would have some excellent suggestions."
Christopher looked at her then, his eyes like silvered glass in the moonlight. For a moment Beatrix feared the attempt at levity might have annoyed him. But then there was a catch of laughter in his throat, and he folded her into his arms. "Beatrix," he whispered. "I'll never stop needing you.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Love in the Afternoon

“Listen," he whispered.
As the thrumming of her own heart quieted, Beatrix heard music. Not instruments, but human voices joined in harmony. Bemused, she went to the window and looked out. A smile lit her face.
A small group of officers from Christopher's regiment, still in uniform, were standing in a row and singing a slow, haunting ballad.


Were I laid on Greenland's coast,
And in my arms embrac'd my lass;
Warm amidst eternal frost,
Too soon the half year's night would pass.
And I would love you all the day.
Ev'ry night would kiss and play,
If with me you'd fondly stray.
Over the hills and far away...


"Our song," Beatrix whispered, as the sweet strains floated up to them.
"Yes."
Beatrix lowered to the floor and braced her folded arms on the windowsill... the same place where she had lit so many candles for a soldier fighting in a faraway land.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Love in the Afternoon

“I could take you anywhere- Paris, Florence-"
"As I told you before, I want a quiet, snug place." Beatrix pressed impulsive kisses on his face. "Books... wine... long walks... and you. It's the most wonderful place in the world. I'm already sorry to leave."
He chuckled, endeavoring to catch her mouth with his own. "We don't have to leave for two weeks." After he captured her lips in a long, searing kiss, Beatrix melted against him and sighed.
"How could ordinary life possibly compare to this?"
"Ordinary life will be just as wonderful," he whispered. "As long as you're there.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Love in the Afternoon

“Why are you here?" she asked.
"I came to apologize," he said. "I was... discourteous yesterday."
"No, you were rude."
"You're right. I'm truly sorry." At her lack of response, Christopher fumbled for words. He, who had once spoken to women so glibly. "I've been too long in rough company. Since I left the Crimea, I find myself reacting irritably without cause. I... words are too important for me to be so careless with them."
Perhaps it was his imagination, but he thought her face softened a little.
"You don't have to be sorry for disliking me," she said. "Only for being discourteous."
"Rude," Christopher corrected. "And I don't."
"You don't what?" she asked with a frown.
"Dislike you. That is... I don't know you well enough to either like or dislike you."
"I'm fairly certain, Captain," she said, "that the more you discover about me, the more you will dislike me. Therefore, let's cut to the chase and acknowledge that we don't like each other. Then we won't have to bother with the in-between part."
She was so bloody frank and practical about the whole thing that Christopher couldn't help but be amused. "I'm afraid I can't oblige you."
"Why not?"
"Because when you said that just now, I found myself starting to like you."
"You'll recover," she said.
Her decisive tone made him want to smile. "It's getting worse, actually," he told her. "Now I'm absolutely convinced that I like you.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Love in the Afternoon

“It had been a long time since a woman had held him. It felt so good that he couldn't make himself release her just yet. Her body cradled his with supple feminine strength. Those slim, gentle fingers continued to stroke the back of his neck. He had never seen such blue eyes, clear and dark like Bristol blue glass.
Christopher tried to remember the reasons why he shouldn't want her. He even tried to summon thoughts of Prudence, but it was impossible. He closed his eyes and felt her breath striking his chin. He felt her everywhere, with his entire body, her scent in his nose and throat, her warmth sinking into him.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Love in the Afternoon

“Beatrix started as she felt his hand glide from her waist to the side of her ribs in an insolent caress. His breathing deepened as he discovered that she wasn't wearing a corset. His palm moved slowly over her natural shape.
Christopher's lashes half lowered, and his color heightened as he stared at her. His hand came to her breast, lightly shaping the roundness. Beatrix felt her legs threaten to give out beneath her. His thumb and forefinger caught at the rising tip and squeezed gently.
"Last chance," he said in a guttural voice. "Get out, or get in my bed."
"Is there a third option?" Beatrix asked weakly, her breast throbbing beneath his touch.
For answer, Christopher picked her up with stunning ease and carried her to the bed. She was tossed to the mattress. Before she could move, he had straddled her, all that sleek golden power poised above her.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Love in the Afternoon

“I knew you wouldn't want letters from me. I knew I wasn't the kind of woman you wanted."
Rolling Beatrix to her side, Christopher brought her against his aroused form. "Does this feel like I don't want you?"
The hard pressure of him, the rampant heat of his body, dazzled her senses... it was like being drunk... like drinking starlight. Closing her eyes, she leaned her face into his shoulder. "You thought I was peculiar," she said in a muffled voice.
His mouth brushed the edge of her ear and settled against her neck. She felt that he was smiling. "Darling love... you are.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Love in the Afternoon

“What do you think of her?" he asked.
Annandale replied without hesitation. "I would marry her myself, were I five years younger."
"Five?" Christopher repeated skeptically.
"Ten, damn you." But a slight smile had appeared on the earl's time-weathered face. "I commend you on your choice. She's a spirited girl. Fearless, Lovely in her own way, and with her charm she has no need of true beauty. You'll need to keep a firm hand on the reins, but the trouble will be worth it." He paused, looking wistful. "Once you've had a woman like that, you can never be content with the ordinary kind."
Christopher had been about to argue over the question of Beatrix's beauty, which in his opinion was unequaled. But that last sentence caught his attention. "You're referring to Grandmother?" he asked.
"No. Your grandmother was the kind of woman I thought I should marry. I was in love with someone else- a far less suitable girl. And I let her go, to my everlasting regret." He sighed, pondering some distant memory. "A lifetime without her..."
Fascinated, Christopher wanted to ask more... but this was hardly the time or place for such a conversation. However, it gave him an unexpected insight into his grandfather. What would it do to a man, to marry a Prudence when one might have had a Beatrix? It would be enough to turn anyone bitter.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Love in the Afternoon

“After bidding her family good-bye, Beatrix went out to the front drive with Christopher. He had changed from his uniform, with its gleaming jangle of medals, and wore simple tweed and broadcloth, with a simple white cravat tied at his neck. She much preferred him this way, in rougher, simpler clothing- the splendor of Christopher in military dress was nearly too dazzling to bear. The sun was a rich autumn gold, lowering into the black nest of treetops.
Instead of the carriage Beatrix had expected, there was a single horse on the drive, Christopher's large bay gelding.
Beatrix turned to give him a questioning look. "Don't I get a horse? A pony cart? Or am I to trot along behind you?"
His lips twitched. "We'll ride together, if you're willing. I have a surprise for you."
"How unconventional of you."
"Yes, I thought that would please you." He helped her to mount the horse, and swung up easily behind her.
No matter what the surprise was, Beatrix thought as she leaned back into his cradling arms, this moment was bliss. She savored the feel of him, all his strength around her, his body adjusting easily to every movement of the horse. He bade her to close her eyes as they went into the forest. Beatrix relaxed against his chest. The forest air turned sweeter as it cooled, infused with scents of resin and dark earth.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Love in the Afternoon

“He turned toward Beatrix and slid his fingers beneath her chin, nudging her to look at him. "What's this?" His voice gentled. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing," Beatrix said, seeing him through a shimmer of tears. "Absolutely nothing. It's just... I spent so many hours in this place, dreaming of being with you someday. But I never dared to believe it could really happen."
"You had to believe, just a little," Christopher whispered. "Otherwise it wouldn't have come true.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Love in the Afternoon

“Pulling her between his spread thighs, he wrapped her in a comforting hug. After a long time, he spoke quietly into her hair. "Beatrix. One of the reasons I haven't made love to you since that afternoon is that I didn't want to take advantage of you again."
"You didn't," she protested. "I gave myself to you freely."
"Yes, I know." Christopher kissed her head. "You were generous, and beautiful, and so passionate that you've ruined me for any other woman. But it wasn't what I had intended for your first time. Tonight I'm going to make amends."
Beatrix shivered at the sensual promise of his tone. "There's no need. But if you insist..."
"I do insist." He smoothed his hand over her back and continued to hold her, making her feel safe. And then he began to kiss his way along the side of her neck, his mouth hot and deliberate, and she began to feel not entirely safe. She drew in a quick breath as he lingered at a sensitive place.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Love in the Afternoon

“Opening the lid, Beatrix found her neatly folded clothes and a drawstring muslin bag containing a brush and a rack of hairpins, and other small necessities. There was also a package wrapped in pale blue paper and tied with a matching ribbon. Picking up a small folded note that had been tucked under the ribbon, Beatrix read:

A gift for your wedding night, darling Bea. This gown was made by the most fashionable modiste in London. It is rather different from the ones you usually wear, but it will be very pleasing to a bridegroom. Trust me about this.
-Poppy

Holding the nightgown up, Beatrix saw that it was made of black gossamer and fastened with tiny jet buttons. Since the only nightgowns she had ever worn had been of modest white cambric or muslin, this was rather shocking. However, if it was what husbands liked...
After removing her corset and her other underpinnings, Beatrix drew the gown over her head and let a slither over her body in a cool, silky drift. The thin fabric draped closely over her shoulders and torso and buttoned at the waist before flowing to the ground in transparent panels. A side slit went up to her hip, exposing her leg when she moved. And her back was shockingly exposed, the gown dipping low against her spine. Pulling the pins and combs from her hair, she dropped them into the muslin bag in the trunk.
Tentatively she emerged from behind the screen.
Christopher had just finished pouring two glasses of champagne. He turned toward her and froze, except for his gaze, which traveled over her in a burning sweep. "My God," he muttered, and drained his champagne. Setting the empty glass aside, he gripped the other as if he were afraid it might slip through his fingers.
"Do you like my nightgown?" Beatrix asked.
Christopher nodded, not taking his gaze from her. "Where's the rest of it?"
"This was all I could find." Unable to resist teasing him, Beatrix twisted and tried to see the back view. "I wonder if I put it on backward..."
"Let me see." As she turned to reveal the naked line of her back, Christopher drew in a harsh breath.
Although Beatrix heard him mumble a curse, she didn't take offense, deducing that Poppy had been right about the nightgown. And when he drained the second glass of champagne, forgetting that it was hers, Beatrix sternly repressed a grin. She went to the bed and climbed onto the mattress, relishing the billowy softness of its quilts and linens. Reclining on her side, she made no attempt to cover her exposed leg as the gossamer fabric fell open to her hip.
Christopher came to her, stripping off his shirt along the way. The sight of him, all that flexing muscle and sun-glazed skin, was breathtaking. He was a beautiful man, a scarred Apollo, a dream lover. And he was hers.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Love in the Afternoon

“Oh, Beatrix... I fell in love with you by words alone... but I have to admit... I prefer this way of communicating."
She could barely speak, her mind dazzled by sensation. "It's still a love letter," she said, sliding her hand over the golden slope of his shoulder. "Only in bed."
He smiled. "Then I'll try to use proper punctuation."
"And no dangling participles," she added, making him laugh.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Love in the Afternoon

“They emerged from the bed some time later to feast on the delectable cold supper that had been left for them, slices of game pie, salads, ripe black plums, cake soaked in elderflower cordial.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Love in the Afternoon

“Although Beatrix considered Hampshire to be the most beautiful place in England, the Cotswolds very nearly eclipsed it. The Cotswolds, often referred to as the heart of England, were formed by a chain of escarpments and hills that crossed Gloucestershire and Oxfordshire. Beatrix was delighted by the storybook villages with their small, neat cottages, and by the green hills covered with plump sheep. Since wool had been the most profitable industry of the Cotswolds, with profits being used to improve the landscape and build churches, more than one plaque proclaimed, THE SHEEP HATH PAID FOR ALL.
To Beatrix's delight, the sheepdog had a similarly elevated status. The villagers' attitude toward dogs reminded Beatrix of a Romany saying that she had once heard from Cam... "To make a visitor feel welcome, you must also make his dog feel welcome." Here in this Cotswold village, people took their dogs everywhere, even to churches in which pews were worn with grooves where leashes had been tied.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Love in the Afternoon

“You don't expect perfection now. How else could you explain your attraction to me?"
Christopher gently took her face in his hands. "You are my idea of perfection, Beatrix Heloise.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Love in the Afternoon