Grace And Jack Quotes

“With most women he would use flattery and flirtation, appealing to both their vanity and their pleasure. But Grace was no ordinary woman. With her, he knew he would have to take a more subtle approach. Less than half a minute into their acquaintance, he'd sensed her reserve, as well as her insecurity. He surmised she wasn't used to being boldly pursued by men, so any sudden, overt interest on his part would only provoke her suspicions and put her on the alert.
Instead, his approach would require a deft touch and gentle, patient persuasion. A shy doe required proper coaxing, after all. The key was to figure out what kind of inducement she liked best and be there to offer it.”
― Tracy Anne Warren, Seduced by His Touch

“You may not be beautiful in the traditional sense, but that doesn't mean you aren't lovely all the same. Uniquely lovely, with an inner radiance that far transcends what passes for pretty these days. Take your eyes, for example."
"My eyes?"
"Hmmm. Have you ever noticed how they change color with your moods?"
She shook her head.
"Well, they do. When you're happy, they're a pure pristine blue, like twin brushstrokes of sky. And when you're displeased or lost in serious thought, they shift to grey. Silvery, sensual grey, the sort that ripples like dawn mist over a lake. I can think of no other woman with eyes like yours. Magnificent, soul-deep eyes in which a man could drown if he weren't careful.”
― Tracy Anne Warren, Seduced by His Touch

“Nestled into a bed of shiny cream satin lay a heart-shaped pendant on a simple gold chain. The heart itself was created from over a dozen delicate round amethyst stones, while the center held a miniature painted on porcelain. Done in a series of fine, delicate strokes, the artist's rendering depicted a tiny garden, alive with masses of yellow and white hollyhocks.
Right away, they reminded her of the flowers she'd been drawing that long-ago day in Bath. The day of her and Jack's very first kiss.
Her gaze went to his, breath stilled in her chest. "Oh, Jack. It's Sydney Gardens, isn't it?"
"That's right, with those stalky, puff-headed flowers." He gave her a gentle smile. "Do you like it?"
"I love it."
"I chose amethyst, since you said it's your favorite stone. I hope I remembered right?"
"You did. It's so lovely. Thank you. I'll wear it each and every day," she promised. "Your heart tucked against my own."
A peculiar shadow flickered momentarily across his eyes before he reached for the necklace. "Here, let me help you put it on."
"Yes. Please," she said, relieved he'd offered. Her hands were trembling with so much emotion that she doubted she could have managed the task on her own.
Turning slightly, she angled herself so he could place the chain around her neck and fasten the clasp. The slight weight of the gold and stones grew instantly warm against her skin. "There. How does it look?" she asked as she moved to face him again.
"Beautiful," he said.
But when she glanced up, she realized he wasn't looking at the pendant. Instead, he was looking at her.”
― Tracy Anne Warren, Seduced by His Touch

“Yours, I presume?" he said in a rich, deeply modulated voice that put her in mind of hot buttered rum on a cold winter day and the sensual luxury of lying amid warm silken sheets. Inwardly, she quivered. Her reply, whatever it might be, stuck like a stone in her throat; the incapacity only worsened when she lifted her gaze to his.
Bold and intelligent, his eyes shone like a set of imperial jewels, their shade an improbably pure blue that lay somewhere between sapphire and lapis lazuli. He was sinfully handsome, with a refined jaw, a long, straight nose and a mouth that seemed the very embodiment of temptation. His mahogany-dark hair was cut short, the severe style unable to tame the rebellious wave that lent the ends just the faintest hint of curl.
But most enticing of all was his height- his large, muscular, impressive height. She guessed he must be six feet three or four at least, his build broad and powerful enough to make even her feel small.”
― Tracy Anne Warren, Seduced by His Touch

“Of all her rather unremarkable features, her eyes were her strong point, despite being partially hidden behind a pair of spectacles. A gentle blue-grey, their color shifted in the most interesting manner from gentian to pewter depending upon the light. He supposed most people never noticed such subtle variations, thinking her irises to be either plain grey or ordinary blue, but he'd found himself intrigued; more so than he might have expected after such a brief encounter.”
― Tracy Anne Warren, Seduced by His Touch

“I mean that robust men such as yourself usually prefer other, more physical pursuits."
The color of his irises intensified. "Physical, hmm? And just what sort of 'physical pursuits' did you have in mind?"
Her cheeks grew warm, subtly aware that she had stumbled into dangerous territory. For some unfathomable reason, images of secluded, romantic rendezvouses and stolen kisses leapt into her head- subjects about which she was sure Jack Byron was an expert.
"Hunting and angling and riding, for instance," she said in a hushed tumble of words.
"Well, I must admit I enjoy a round of hunting and angling every now and again. As for riding..." His gaze lowered to her lips. "I'm always up for a good ride."
Her throat became too tight to swallow. 'Why,' she wondered, 'do I have the impression that he isn't talking about horses?”
― Tracy Anne Warren, Seduced by His Touch

“He'd already gone beyond what he planned for their first true meeting, forgetting himself long enough to trade innuendos a more experienced woman would have recognized for what they were. Instead, Grace Danvers had blushed and looked unsure, of both herself and her reactions.
In those moments, he'd found her adorable.
And kissable.
And far too innocent.”
― Tracy Anne Warren, Seduced by His Touch

“So, what brings you here, of all places? This hardly seems like your sort of diversion."
One mahogany brow arched skyward, an amused glint sparkling in his eyes. "Ah, Miss Danvers, there you go again, deciding what does and does not suit me. Whenever shall you learn?"
She flushed slightly at his amused rebuke.”
― Tracy Anne Warren, Seduced by His Touch

“Almost imperceptibly, he moved closer, the warmth of his body radiating outward, together with his own mesmerizing scent- clean and male and uniquely him. "What fragrance are you wearing?" he asked.
"Nothing. I don't wear perfume, at least not often."
He inched nearer still, his voice lowering to a murmur. "You're just naturally sweet then, are you? Exactly as I expected.”
― Tracy Anne Warren, Seduced by His Touch

“I am sure you are only being modest. Particularly if you like such serious pastimes as botany lectures and books. I can't see the point to either, but dear Grace loves anything that exercises her mind."
Lord Jack turned his head, his jewel-colored eyes meeting Grace's over the top of her aunt's bonnet. "Nothing wrong with a bit of exercise for the mind. Or the body."
Warmth swirled abruptly to life within her. Anxious to extinguish the flame, Grace looked away.”
― Tracy Anne Warren, Seduced by His Touch

“Now, if I am not mistaken, I believe your aunt is about to announce supper. Pray agree to dine with me."
"I am not sure I can, since the place cards may require otherwise."
"Then we shall simply have to switch them so they're arranged to our liking," he said, adding a naughty wink that sent tingles whirling through her system like maddened fireflies.
He stood and offered his arm.
"You wouldn't really switch them, would you?" she asked as she gained her feet.
"What do you think?"
She studied him, his azure eyes unreadable. "I think," she said, "that you are the wickedest man I've ever met."
He choked out a laugh, then leaned over so that his lips were a mere inch from her ear. "You had best take care to avoid me, then, else I cease being a gentleman and decide to lead you astray.”
― Tracy Anne Warren, Seduced by His Touch

“She was just passing through when a long male arm emerged seemingly from out of nowhere, coiling like steel around her waist.
She squealed, the sound reverberating in the air, as she twisted for a moment in Lord Jack's grasp.
"Got you!" he exclaimed, triumph plain in his voice.
"Oh, you scared me!" she said, breathless as she met his gaze. "You're as silent as a breeze."
"And you are as lithe as a gazelle, slipping from row to row as though you were made of fog. For a few moments, I thought I'd lost track of you."
"This is a tricky maze. The center is nearby, though. Shall we both dash to find it?"
A gleam came into his eyes, along with an expression she'd never seen him wear before. He shook his head, his gaze roaming over her face before lowering to her lips.
"No," he murmured in a tone as rough as gravel. "I have what I came to find."
She trembled, abruptly aware that he was still holding her against him. Her heart leapt when he reached up and began untying the bow that anchored her bonnet in place.
"What are you doing, my lord?"
He smiled. "Claiming a forfeit. I caught you. I believe I deserve a reward."
"B-but the game isn't finished."
"You're right about that," he mused aloud, lifting her hat from her head. "The game has only just begun.”
― Tracy Anne Warren, Seduced by His Touch

“Entrancing in a gown of vibrant green silk, Grace radiated femininity, but not the frail, tepid sort borne by so many of her sex. She was bold and colorful- her lush red hair providing a perfect foil for the crisp apple green of her dress. Looking over at her, his mouth watered at the thought of taking a big juicy bite.”
― Tracy Anne Warren, Seduced by His Touch

“Gazing at Grace's profile, he skimmed his fingertips along the side of her neck.
She shivered and gave a small shrug to discourage his touch.
With a smile, he paused before moving to toy with a curl at her nape.
"Jack, stop," she said on a hushed undertone.
"Why?" he teased.
"You know why. Now stop."
His lips twitched. Reaching higher, he traced the shell-like edge of her ear, drawing a quiver from her this time.
"Please."
He smiled, slow and intimate. "Please what?"
"We're in a theater."
"Yes, but in this dark corner no one can see."
"What about Aunt Jane?"
She is busy watching the play." Angling his head, he caught her earlobe between his teeth and gave a light, playful nip.
Her eyelashes fluttered and she bit her own lip to hold back a sigh.
"I could do more," he promised in a low, suggestive tone.”
― Tracy Anne Warren, Seduced by His Touch

“He skimmed his knuckles over her jaw before roaming lower to the satiny column of her neck, then back up again. "Surely you could stay for dinner? You said yourself your aunt is away. I can't believe you would prefer eating alone."
Her frown increased. "No, but-"
"Then stay. My cook sets an excellent table. Delicious fare designed to tempt any palate. Tell me your favorites and I'll send word to her to make them especially for you."
Sliding his arm around her back, he bent and pressed his mouth to the base of her throat. "Do you like roast beef?"
"Ahh, I..."
"Too heavy, you're right," he stated, dropping kisses against her skin in a leisurely pattern. "What about venison? Unless you are worried it might be gamey. Hmm, I agree."
Her eyelids fluttered, one hand coming up to catch in the fabric of his coat.
Working his way up, he paused and breathed a gentle gust of warm, brandy-scented air into her ear. She shuddered, a tiny moan escaping her lips.
"Partridge, perhaps? In a sweet vermouth with plump raisins and orange peel. How does that sound?"
"Delightful."
He smiled, wondering if she was referring to the food or his kisses. He definitely hoped the latter.
"Or I know," he whispered, brushing his mouth ever so lightly against hers. "Lobster and oysters. Light and delicate, with a taste as fresh as the sea. Shall we try that? I could feed them to you bite by delectable bite.”
― Tracy Anne Warren, Seduced by His Touch

“Leaning forward, he dusted a kiss over her lips, his touch light and sensuous. Her eyes closed, wonder and delight shimmering through her like faerie dust- dreams wrapping her in their silken hold.
"You love me, Grace." His mouth brushed against hers. "That's what you said last night. You meant it, did you not?"
Her eyes opened, locking on his. "Yes, I meant it," she said in a hushed tone. "Of course, I love you.”
― Tracy Anne Warren, Seduced by His Touch

“Jack kissed her long and deep, with a driving need that radiated all the way to his bones. Pausing, he took an extra moment to breathe in the honeyed fragrance of her skin, to taste the sweet flavor of her tongue as it slid like hot, damp silk against his own.
He shuddered from the pleasure, relishing the sensations as though they were manna from heaven.”
― Tracy Anne Warren, Seduced by His Touch

“Lowering his arm again, he gazed at her through the darkness and caught the subtle shimmer of her red hair, visible even in the low light.
Reaching out, he gathered up a waist-length strand and rubbed the silky ends between his fingers in a slow, measuring glide. Without giving himself time to think, he raised the tress to his nose and inhaled, closing his eyes as Grace's sweet rose-and-honey scent flooded his senses.”
― Tracy Anne Warren, Seduced by His Touch

“Somehow, without her awareness, she'd obviously sought him out during the night, curling around him like a vine while she'd slumbered. Mortified, she tried to pull away. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't realize... that is, I didn't mean to... to..."
"Sleep on me?" he drawled, his words slow and husky.
Opening her mouth, she tried to speak, but nothing came out. She nodded instead.
"Don't worry." He smiled. "You make a very nice blanket.”
― Tracy Anne Warren, Seduced by His Touch

“She whimpered as he forced another helpless moan from her lips.
Moments later, he paused and raised his head, meeting her gaze across her recumbent form. "Did you say something?"
'N-no," she whispered, shuddering at the cessation of his caresses.
"Oh. My mistake. Shall I continue?"
Continue tormenting her, he meant. Still, how could she say no?
"Please, Jack."
"Please, what?"
Despite their intimacy, she felt her cheeks flush. "Y-you know."
"I'm sorry. I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific."
She blushed and groaned. "Don't do this."
"Do what?"
"T-torment me."
"Is that what I'm doing? I thought I was pleasuring you."
"You are, but you're not letting me-"
"Letting you what?" he drawled in a devil's voice.
"God, I don't know how much more I can take."
His eyes darkened. "Oh, you can take more. A lot more. Then again, just say the words and I'll give you what you want. Tell me how much you need this from me. Tell me how much you love this from me.”
― Tracy Anne Warren, Seduced by His Touch

“Ranunculus chose that moment to saunter inside, the big orange cat going straight across to Jack to rub against his trouser legs. Clearly unconcerned about any hair the feline might be leaving behind, Jack bent to stroke the cat's striped head and back.
"I see the two of you have already met," she remarked, observing the friendly byplay.
Soft purrs issued from the cat, his eyes closing with contentment as Jack scratched him under his chin. "Indeed," Jack said. "This big fellow introduced himself to me while you were sleeping. He's quite expert at hogging the sofa." His gaze moved to the cat. "Aren't you... Ranunculus, is it not?"
"That's right," she confirmed. Obviously Jack had gleaned additional "interesting details" from the servants.
He stroked the cat's head, his voice lowering. "At least she didn't call you Buttercup, old man."
"You know what ranunculus means?" she said, surprised.
His gaze swung up to meet hers. "I know a great deal more on that subject than you might imagine. Let's just say you... inspired me to learn.”
― Tracy Anne Warren, Seduced by His Touch

“Stepping back, he went to his bedside table. He returned carrying something. Opening his palm, he revealed the heart-shaped pendant he'd given her so many months ago.
"I've kept this," he explained. "You might say it's become a talisman of sorts. I... I carry it everywhere. But I'm going to give it to you again, if you'll take it. Whether you decide ever to wear it or not is up to you."
"Jack," she murmured, as she let him press the jewelry into her hand.”
― Tracy Anne Warren, Seduced by His Touch

“You designed the garden then?"
"Oh no, 'twasn't meself at all. His lordship did all the work. Had drawings and lists of every plant be used and knew exactly where he wanted 'em put. Knew all the Latin names of 'em too. Saw that first plan meself with all his notes and jots before he gave me another copy with the common ones writ out so I could tell what they were. He asked me what I thought and if a lady would like it. Says as I thought the Queen herself would approve."
Breath grew thin in her lungs, her pulse speeding faster in confusion. Jack had done all this? Had arranged for the planting of this garden months ago before she'd even known about the house?
"Yup, even a Queen would like it, I says," she heard the gardener continue. "An' do ye know what he says back?"
"No," she whispered in a faint voice. "W-what did he say?"
He gave her a smile. "He says it doesn't matter if a Queen likes it, 'cause the only woman who matters is his wife. 'If this garden makes her smile,' he told me, 'then my efforts will have been all worthwhile.' "
Her hand shook as she realized that Jack had designed the garden.
For her!”
― Tracy Anne Warren, Seduced by His Touch

“That's when she saw his gaze drift downward, alighting on the heart-shaped pendant clasped around her neck.
"You're wearing it," he said, his words carrying a wondering tone.
Reaching up, she fingered the amethysts, then smoothed her thumb over the flat piece of porcelain in the center with its tiny painted garden. "Yes. Because I realize now that it was given in love."
"It was, even if I was too blind to know it at the time. Something else for which I must beg your forgiveness."
"It's yours." She laid her palm on his chest near his heart. "Did you really carry the pendant around with you when we were apart?"
"Constantly. It made me feel closer to you. Strange, I suppose, considering you wore it for such a brief time."
"Not so strange," she reassured. "I kept a handkerchief of yours, though I never planned to tell you that."
Leaning near, he pressed his lips to hers. "Besotted. The pair of us."
"Definitely.”
― Tracy Anne Warren, Seduced by His Touch