Helen And Rhys Quotes

“First, I don't traipse, and second, Helen's- devil take you, that hurts!" Exhausted, he dropped his head to his chest.
Helen regarded him sympathetically, knowing how he hated not being in control. Rhys was always well dressed and in command of himself. His very name connoted success, luxury, and elegance. None of that was consistent with finding himself on the floor, battered, bruised, and forcibly divested of his clothing.
"And second?" she prompted gently, bringing him back to his unfinished thought.
"You're not ruined," he said gruffly, his head still down. "You're perfect."
Helen's heart twisted with painful sweetness. She wanted badly to comfort and cradle him. Instead she had to settle for stroking his black hair very lightly. He pushed his head against the caress, like an affectionate wolf.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Marrying Winterborne

“Taking her left hand, he began to slide the moonstone onto her finger, and hesitated. "How did I propose the first time?" He had been nervous, steeling himself for a possible refusal; he could hardly remember a word he'd said.
Amusement tugged at her lips. "You laid out the advantages on both sides, and explained the ways in which our future goals were compatible."
Rhys absorbed that with chagrin. "No one has ever accused me of being a romantic," he said ruefully.
"If you were, how would you propose?"
He thought for a moment. "I would begin by teaching you a Welsh word. Hiraeth. There's no equivalent in English."
"Hiraeth," she repeated, trying to pronounce it with a tapped R, as he had.
"Aye. It's a longing for something that was lost, or never existed. You feel it for a person or a place, or a time in your life... it's a sadness of the soul. Hiraeth calls to a Welshman even when he's closest to happiness, reminding him that he's incomplete."
Her brow knit with concern. "Do you feel that way?"
"Since the day I was born." He looked down into her small, lovely face. "But not when I'm with you. That's why I want to marry you."
Helen smiled. She reached up to curl her hand around the back of his neck, her caress as light as silk gauze being pulled across his skin. Standing on her toes, she drew his head down and kissed him. Her lips were smoother than petals, all clinging silk and tender dampness. He had the sensation of surrendering, some terrible soft sweetness evading him and rearranging his insides.
Breaking the kiss, Helen lowered back to her heels. "Your proposals are improving," she told him, and extended her hand as he fumbled to slide the ring onto her finger.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Marrying Winterborne

“As her gentle voice continued, Rhys had the sensation of floating, the red tide of fever easing. How strange and lovely it was to lie here half dozing in her arms, possibly even better than fucking... but that thought led to the indecent question of what it might be like with her... how she might lie quietly beneath him while he devoured all that petal softness and vanilla sweetness... and slowly he fell asleep in Lady Helen's arms.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Cold-Hearted Rake

“I can't be a gentleman," he said hoarsely. "Not even for you."
"You don't have to be a gentleman. Only gentle."
No one had ever asked him for such a thing. To his despair, he realized it wasn't in him. His hands gripped the edges of the desk until the wood threatened to crack.
"Cariad... there's nothing gentle about how I want you." He was startled by the endearment that had slipped out, one he had never used with anyone.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Marrying Winterborne

“There's no alternative."
A wordless interval followed, so full of portent that Helen felt her arms prickling beneath her sleeves, all the downy hairs lifting.
"There is."
His face had changed, his eyes predatory. Calculating. This, she understood in a flash of intuition, was the version of Mr. Winterborne that people regarded with fear and awe, a pirate disguised as a captain of industry.
"The alternative," he said, "is to let me bed you.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Marrying Winterborne

“A slender figure emerged from behind an inflorescence of snow-white blooms. Helen's crystalline eyes caught the light, and her pretty lips rounded like a tea rose as she said his name in soundless bewilderment. She moved toward him, stumbling a little as she came around the table too fast. The hint of clumsiness, her obvious haste, electrified him. She had missed him. She had wanted him, too.
Reaching her in three swift strides, Rhys caught her up against him so tightly that her toes left the floor. Momentum turned them in a half-circle. Letting her back down, he dove his face into the warm fragrant skin of her neck and breathed her, absorbed her.
Cariad," he said huskily, "that was the first time I've ever seen you move with less than swanlike grace."
She gave an unsteady laugh. "You surprised me." Her warm, delicate hands came to the cold sides of his face. "You're here," she said, as if trying to make herself believe it.
Breathing unevenly, Rhys nuzzled her, amazed by the silkiness of her skin and hair, the tenderness of her flesh. Something like elation, only stronger, was pouring into his veins, intoxicating him. "I could eat you," he muttered, pushing past her caressing hands to find her lips, feeling her mouth with his. Helen responded eagerly, her fingers sliding into his hair and shaping against his skull.
He murmured rough-soft endearments between kisses, while Helen clung to him.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Marrying Winterborne

“When we were in London, you told me that your world was very small. Well, my world is very large. And you're the most important person in it. You're safe and wanted now, Helen. In time, you'll become used to that, and you won't worry." As she turned her face against his chest, he lowered his mouth to her ear. "We're bound to each other," he whispered, "for as long as the world exists. Remember?"
Helen rubbed her cheek against his velvet robe. "We haven't made our vows yet."
"We did that afternoon, when you came to my bed. That's what it meant." His fingers slid beneath her chin, coaxing her to look at him. Amusement deepened the faint whisks at the outer corners of his eyes. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, but there's no getting rid of me."
Desperately she stared at the face above hers, all strong, stark angles and shadows, a striking framework for those compelling sable eyes. Rhys hid nothing, letting her see the tenderness that was reserved for her alone. She felt the overwhelming pull between them, like the force of gravity between twin stars.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Marrying Winterborne

“Helen pictured him as a gangly boy, hurrying through his morning chores with a cache of forbidden marbles in his pocket. A bloom of emotion expanded in her chest, an electrifying happiness that almost bordered on pain.
She loved him. She loved the boy he had been, and the man he was now. She loved the look and smell and feel of him, the brusque charm of his accent, the touchy pride and determined will that had taken him so far in life, and the thousand other qualities that made him so extraordinary.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Marrying Winterborne

“She reached up to trace the firm, tempting curve of his lips with her fingertip. "I'm back to myself now," she told him. "I'm not going to be silly anymore."
As Rhys glanced down at her quizzically, she tried to look solemn, but she couldn't help breaking into giggles. "I'm s-serious," she insisted.
He didn't argue, only began to kiss her nose and cheeks and throat.
Helen squirmed, more giggles slipping out. "That tickles." Her fingers slid into his beautiful hair, the locks thick and vibrant, like heavy black satin. His lips lingered at a tender place beneath her jaw until the nerves thrummed with excitement. Clumsily she guided his head, maneuvering his mouth to hers, and he obliged her with lazy, sensuous patience. She relaxed, moving easily with him as he turned to set his back against the counter, his arms wrapped safely around her.
His head moved over hers, one of his hands coming up to support the back of her neck, massaging even though there was no more pain or tension, and she arched against him, purring in her enjoyment. It was heavenly to be clasped in the embrace of her magnificent lover...”
― Lisa Kleypas, Marrying Winterborne

“Helen was bewildered to find herself surrounded by air as warm as the breath of summer. Slowly she walked into a large gallery, constructed of thousands of flashing, glittering glass panes in a network of wrought-iron ribs.
It was a glasshouse, she realized in bewilderment. On a rooftop. The ethereal construction, as pretty as a wedding cake, had been built on a sturdy brickwork base, with iron pillars and girders welded to vertical struts and diagonal tiers.
"This is for my orchids," she said faintly.
Rhys came up behind her, his hands settling at her waist. He nuzzled gently at her ear. "I told you I'd find a place for them."
A glass palace in the sky. It was magical, an inspired stroke of romantic imagination, and he had built it for her. Dazzled, she took in the view of London at sunset, a red glow westering across the leaden sky. The clouds were torn in places, gold light spilling through the fire-colored fleece.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Marrying Winterborne

“She was gentle but merciless. Her slight weight depressed the side of the mattress, and a slender arm slid behind him. As he was caught in that half-cradling hold, he considered shoving her off the bed. But her hand touched his cheek with a tenderness that somehow undermined his will to hurt her.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Cold-Hearted Rake

“Realizing that he was waiting for an answer, she replied with a touch of impishness, "Aye."
After a blink of surprise, Rhys hauled her up into his lap. His eyes glinted with amusement. "Mocking my accent, are you?"
"No." A breathless giggle escaped her. "I like it. Very much."
"Do you, then?" His tone had deepened. "I'll have to send you inside, now soon. Give me a kiss, cariad. One to make up for all the kisses I would have had from you tonight."
She pressed her mouth to his, and his lips parted, letting her explore him with little flirting tastes. Realizing that he was letting her take the lead, she nudged him more fully open, enjoying the firm silken texture of his mouth. Tentatively she changed the angle of the kiss, and the fit was so lush and delicious that she locked her mouth onto his. She wanted to stay like this forever, caught in his lap with the mass of her skirts bunched all around them, her bottom sinking into the space between his muscular thighs. Gripping his shoulders, she hugged herself closer to the hard contours of his body.
His chest moved in a forceful breath or two, like pumps from fireplace bellows, and he broke the kiss with a groan. A shaken laugh escaped him as her mouth continued to seek his. "No- Helen- ah, how you please me- we have to stop." He leaned his forehead against hers. "Before I take you here in this carriage."
Befuddled, Helen asked, "It can be done in a carriage?"
His color heightened, and he closed his eyes briefly, as if he'd been pushed to the limit of his endurance. "Aye."
"But how-"
"Don't ask me to explain, or I might end up showing you.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Marrying Winterborne

“In this position, she was able to control his depth. What an amazing feeling it was to have all that sinewy power beneath her, his robust body braced between her thighs.
There was a flicker of challenge in his eyes, and his hips nudged upward in playful invitation.
Helen moved carefully, rising and lowering, catching her breath at the hot slide of him within her. He was patient, letting her experiment, while his heart beat like a trip-hammer beneath her flattened palms. She found a gliding back-and-forth motion that sent spasms of heat through her. Judging from his ardent groan, he seemed to enjoy it as well. His mouth caught at the tips of her breasts whenever she moved high enough, and she began to delight in teasing him, sometimes letting him have what he wanted, sometimes withholding. The ribbon had come loose from her hair, the curtain of silvery locks tickling his face and chest.
"You like to torment me," Rhys said, his eyes heavy-lidded with pleasure.
"Yes." In fact, it was fun, enormously exciting fun of a kind she'd never imagined.
The hint of a grin crossed his lips and vanished quickly as she plunged harder, filling herself with him. He began to answer her rhythm in earnest, fisting his hands in the bedclothes. She loved the sight of him lost to passion, his head tilted back and his strong throat exposed, the muscles of his chest sharply delineated. A storm of sensation swept through her, and her shuddering body locked on him. He continued to thrust, the movements becoming jerky and forceful, finishing in a powerful shove that arched his hips and most of his back completely off the bed.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Marrying Winterborne

“You s-said any child of his is demon spawn."
His head jerked up, his eyes fierce. "I didn't mean you. Whatever damned evil thing I might say, it never means you."
"Every time you look at me, you'll remember that I'm half his."
"No." His hand came to the side of her face, his thumbs wiping her tears. "You're all mine." His voice was deep and shaken. "Every hair on your head. Every part of you was made to be loved by me.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Marrying Winterborne