Kathleen And Devon Quotes

“She strained as he began to kiss along the side of her neck. Her skin was hot from exertion, a little salty, and her scent was divinely arousing: horses, fresh winter air, roses.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Cold-Hearted Rake

“But Kathleen," Cassandra pleaded, "we've had no amusement for so long."
"Of course you haven't," Kathleen said, steeling herself against a stab of guilt. "People aren't supposed to have amusements when they're in mourning."
The twins fell silent, glowering at her.
Devon broke the tension by asking Cassandra lightly, "Permission to go ashore, Captain?"
"Aye," came the sullen reply, "you and the wench can leave by way of the plank."
Kathleen frowned. "Kindly do not refer to me as a wench, Cassandra."
"It's better than 'bilge rat,'" Pandora said in a surly tone. "Which is the term I would have used."
After giving her a chiding glance, Kathleen returned to the graveled walk, with Devon by her side. "Well?" she asked after a moment. "Aren't you going to criticize as well?"
"I can't think of anything to add to 'bilge rat.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Cold-Hearted Rake

“He hated it when women cried. At the first sign of tears, he had always bolted like a hare at a coursing. But as soon as his arms had gone around Kathleen, in one ordinary instant, the world, the past, everything he'd always been certain of had all been obliterated. She had reached for him, not out of passion or fear, but the simple human need for closeness. It had electrified him. No one had ever sought comfort from him before, and the act of giving it had felt more unspeakably intimate than the most torrent sexual encounter. He'd felt the force of his entire being wrap around her in a moment of sweet, raw connection.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Cold-Hearted Rake

“After one last luxurious inhalation of her scent, Devon released her slowly, knowing that for the rest of his life, a single breath of a rose would bring him back to this moment.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Cold-Hearted Rake

“Out of regard for me, if for no other reason, he shouldn't have taken the innocence of a young woman under my protection. It's a matter of respect."
Kathleen hoisted herself more fully over him, staring down into his blue eyes. "This," she mocked gently, "from a man who seduced me in nearly every room, stairwell and hay-nook of Eversby Priory. Where was your regard for innocence then?"
His frown disappeared. "That was different."
"Why, may I ask?"
Devon flipped her over, reversing their positions neatly and surprising a giggle from her. "Because," he said huskily, "I wanted you so much..."
She writhed and laughed as he unfastened her nightgown.
"... and as lord of the manor," he continued, proceeding to strip her naked, "I thought it was time to exercise my droit de seigneur."
"As if I were some medieval peasant girl?" she asked, shoving him onto his back, and climbing over him.
Grabbing his marauding hands, she tried to pin him down with her entire weight.
A deep laugh escaped him. "Love, that won't work. You're no heavier than a butterfly." Clearly enjoying their play, he lay unresisting as she gripped his thick wrists more tightly. "A determined butterfly," he conceded. As he stared up at her, his smile faded, and his eyes darkened to intense blue. "I was a selfish bastard," he said softly. "I shouldn't have seduced you."
"I was willing," Kathleen pointed out, inwardly surprised by his remorse. He was changing, she thought, rapidly gaining maturity as he shouldered the responsibilities that had been forced on him so unexpectedly.
"I would do it differently now. Forgive me." He paused, frowning in self-reproach. "I wasn't raised to be honorable. It's damned difficult to learn."
Kathleen slid her hands over his until their fingers interlaced. "There's nothing to forgive, or regret."
Devon shook his head, not allowing her to absolve him. "Tell me how to atone."
She bent to brush her lips against his. "Love me," she whispered.
With great care, Devon rolled until she was caught beneath him. "Always," he said huskily, and possessed her mouth while his hands slid over her body.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Marrying Winterborne

“How far you've brought us," Kathleen murmured, resting against him, "in such a short time. You've turned us all into a family."
"Don't give me credit for that, love," Devon said, ducking his head to press a crooked grin against the side of her face. "We all did it together."
Kathleen turned in his arms to regard the trio of goldfinches. "I wonder what they'll do," she mused aloud, "now that they're out in the world, in the open air?"
He snuggled her back against him, and nuzzled her cheek. "Whatever they want.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Chasing Cassandra

“Eversby Priory has survived four hundred years of revolutions and foreign wars," he heard Kathleen say contemptuously, "and now it will take but one self-serving rake to bring it all to ruins."
As if he were entirely to blame for the situation. As if he alone would be accountable for the estate's demise. Damn her to hell.
With effort, Devon swallowed back his outrage. Deliberately he stretched out his legs with relaxed indolence and glanced at his brother. "West, are we quite certain that Cousin Theo perished in a fall?" he asked cooly. "It seems far more likely that he froze to death in the marriage bed.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Cold-Hearted Rake

“There has to be another way," Kathleen insisted.
"If there were, I'd have found it." She knew nothing of all the sleepless nights and exhausting days he'd spent searching for alternatives. There was no good solution, only a choice between several bad solutions, and this was the least harmful.
Kathleen stared at him as if she'd just caught him snatching a crust of bread from an orphan. "But-"
"Don't press me on this," Devon snapped, losing his patience. "It's difficult enough without a display of adolescent drama."
Kathleen's face went white. Without another word, she turned and strode from the library.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Cold-Hearted Rake

“What are you doing?" she asked in bemusement.
Lights from hundreds of tiny candles danced in his eyes. "I have a gift for you."
Disconcerted, she said, "Oh, but... the family will exchange presents tomorrow morning."
"Unfortunately the presents I brought from London were lost in the accident." Reaching into his coat pocket, he said, "This is the one thing I managed to keep. I'd rather give it to you privately, since I have nothing for the others."
Hesitantly she took the object from his open palm.
It was a small, exquisite black cameo rimmed with pearls. A woman on a horse.
"The woman is Athena," Devon said. "According to myth, she invented the bridle and was the first ever to tame a horse."
Kathleen looked down at the gift in wonder. First the shawl... now this. Personal, beautiful, thoughtful things. No one had ever understood her taste so acutely.
Damn him.
"It's lovely," she said unsteadily. "Thank you."
Through a glaze of incipient tears, she saw him grin.
Unclasping the little pin, she tried to fasten it to the center of her collar. "Is it straight?"
"Not quite." The backs of his fingers brushed her throat as he adjusted the cameo and pinned it. "I have yet to actually see you ride," he said. "West claims that you're more accomplished than anyone he's ever known."
"An exaggeration."
"I doubt that." His fingers left her collar. "Happy Christmas," he murmured, and leaned down to kiss her forehead.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Cold-Hearted Rake

“Helen will never admit what she wants. She's spent her entire life trying not to be a bother to anyone. She'd marry the devil himself if she thought it would help the family- and she's well aware that Eversby Priory would stand to benefit."
"She's not a child. She's a woman of one-and-twenty. Perhaps you didn't notice just now that she behaved with far more composure than you or I." On a callous note, he added gently, "And although it might surprise you, a lifetime of living under your thumb may not appeal to her.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Cold-Hearted Rake

“Darling," Kathleen whispered near his ear with anguished worry, "please let go of me."
He responded with an indecipherable sound, his arms cinching harder around her... and he began to fall as he lost consciousness.
Thankfully, the footmen were right there to grab Devon before he crushed Kathleen under his solid weight. As they pulled him away from her and lowered him to the stretcher, her dazed brain comprehended the word he'd said.
Never.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Cold-Hearted Rake

“My life... didn't pass before my eyes. All I saw was you." His lashes fell and his hand slipped from her face. He managed one more whisper before he fell asleep. "The last moment, I thought... I would die wanting you.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Cold-Hearted Rake

“After the last long, helpless shudders had faded, Kathleen fell back on the velvet cushions like a rag doll that someone had tossed aside. Devon kept his mouth on her, easing the pleasure into relaxation. She summoned just enough strength to reach out and caress his hair.
That might have been worth going to hell for, she thought, and didn't realize she had mumbled it aloud until she felt him smile.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Cold-Hearted Rake

“I used to wish I'd been born a boy. I thought he might have taken an interest in me then. Or perhaps if I were prettier or cleverer."
Devon cupped the side of her face, compelling her to look at him. "You're already too pretty and clever by half, darling. And it wouldn't have mattered if you were a boy. That was never the problem. Your parents were a pair of selfish lackwits." His thumb caressed her cheek. "And whatever flaws you might have, being unlovable is not one of them."
During that last extraordinary sentence, the quiet volume of his voice fell to a near whisper.
She stared at him, transfixed.
He hadn't meant to say it, she thought. He undoubtedly regretted it.
But their shared gaze remained unbroken. Looking into his dark blue eyes was like drowning, sinking into unfathomable depths from which she might never resurface.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Cold-Hearted Rake

“Devon was madly in love with Kathleen, and along with that came all the jealousy and possessiveness that had plagued generations of Ravenels. While Devon was somewhat more reasonable than the past few earls, that wasn't saying much. Any man who frightened or offended Kathleen would earn his eternal wrath.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Marrying Winterborne

“There's much to do," she said. "The funeral will be in Ireland." She gave Helen a stricken glance. "I haven't been there since I was a child."
"You don't have to make decisions right now," Helen said. "Perhaps you should go upstairs and lie down."
"I can't, there are things I must-" Kathleen stopped as Devon entered the room.
His intent gaze swept over her, coming to rest on her bleached white face. "What is it, love?" he asked gently.
"My father's gone." She tried very hard to sound prosaic. "It's not a surprise, of course. We knew that he was in ill health."
"Yes." Devon came forward and took her rigid form against his, wrapping her in his arms.
"I'm perfectly calm," she said against his shoulder.
"Yes." Devon kissed her temple. His face was taut with concern, the blue eyes hazed with tenderness.
"I'm not going to cry." Her tone was matter-of-fact. "He certainly wouldn't have wanted my tears."
Devon smoothed her hair, his hand covering half her small head. "Give them to me, then," he said softly.
Kathleen hid her face in his shirtfront, her slight form seeming to wilt. In a few seconds, a low, broken keening sound began to emerge without stopping. Her husband laid his cheek on her head and cradled her closer against the solid reassurance of his body.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Marrying Winterborne