Phoebe And West Quotes

“You have a backbone of steel. You went through months of hell looking after a small child, a dying husband and an entire household, with unholy patience. You missed meals and went without sleep, but you never forgot to read Justin a bedtime story and tuck him in at night. When you let yourself cry and fall apart, it was only in private, for a few minutes, and then you washed your face, put your broken heart back together, and went out with a cheerful expression and a half-dozen handkerchiefs in your pockets. And you did all of it while feeling queasy most of the time because you were expecting another child. You never failed the people who needed you. You're not going to fail them now."
Shocked down to her soul, Phoebe could only manage a whisper. "Who told you all that?"
"No one." The smile at the corners of his eyes deepened. "Phoebe... anyone who knows you, even a little, would know these things about you.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter

“As delightful as Dr. Gibson is, she doesn't have the makings of a farmwife."
Ethan's brows lifted. "Are you thinking about taking a wife?"
West shrugged. "The nights can be long and quiet in the country," he admitted. "If I found a woman who was an interesting companion and attractive enough to bed... yes, I'd consider marrying her." He paused. "Better yet if she were educated. A sense of humor would be icing on the cake. Red hair isn't a requirement, but I do have a fatal weakness for it." West's mouth twisted with a self-mocking grin. "Of course, she'd have to be willing to overlook the fact that I was an undisciplined and obnoxious swill-tub until about three years ago." A nearly imperceptible look of bitterness flashed across his face before he masked it.
"Who is she?" Ethan asked softly.
"No one. An imaginary woman." Averting his gaze, West used the toe of his boot to flick a loose pebble to the side of the drive. "Who happens to despise me," he muttered.
Ethan regarded him with sympathetic amusement. "You might be able to change her opinion."
"Only if I could travel back in time and beat my former self to a pulp.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Hello Stranger

“Justin's small form was very still with excitement, his attention riveted on the black feline. "Look, Mama!"
Phoebe glanced at Mr. Ravenel. "Is she feral?"
"No, but she's undomesticated. We keep a few barn cats to reduce the rodent and insect population."
"Can I pet her?" Justin asked.
"You could try," Mr. Ravenel said, "but she won't come close enough. Barn cats prefer to keep their distance from people." His brows lifted as the small black cat made her way to Sebastian and curled around his leg, arching and purring. "With the apparent exception of dukes. My God, she's a snob."
Sebastian lowered to his haunches. "Come here, Justin," he murmured, gently kneading the cat along its spine to the base of its tail.
The child approached with his small hand outstretched.
"Softly," Sebastian cautioned. "Smooth her fur the same way it grows."
Justin stroked the cat carefully, his eyes growing round as her purring grew even louder. "How does she make that sound?"
"No one has yet found a satisfactory explanation," Sebastian replied. "Personally, I hope they never do."
"Why, Gramps?"
Sebastian smiled into the small face so close to his. "Sometimes the mystery is more delightful than the answer.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter

“He seemed every bit as riled and menacing as the bull had a few minutes ago. But Phoebe wasn't about to let him make his injury worse out of pure male stubbornness.
"Forgive me if I'm being tyrannical," she said in her most soothing tone. "I tend to do that when I'm concerned about someone. It's your decision, naturally. But I wish you would indulge me in this, if only to spare me from worrying over you every step of the way home."
The mulish set of his jaw eased. "I manage other people," he informed her. "People don't manage me."
"I'm not managing you."
"You're trying," he said darkly.
An irrepressible grin spread across her face. "Is it working?"
Slowly Mr. Ravenel's head lifted. He didn't reply, only gave her a strange, long look that spurred her heartbeat until she was light-headed from the force of its pounding. No man had ever stared at her like this. Not even her husband, for whom she'd always been close and attainable, her presence woven securely into the fabric of his days. Since childhood, she'd always been Henry's safe harbor.
But whatever it was this man wanted from her, it wasn't safety.
"You should humor my daughter's wishes, Ravenel," Sebastian advised from behind her. "The last time I tried to refuse her something, she launched into a screaming fit that lasted at least an hour."
The comment broke the trance. "Father," Phoebe protested with a laugh, twisting to glance at him over her shoulder. "I was two years old!"
"It made a lasting impression.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter

“Somewhere out there, the perfect man you deserve is probably searching for you."
Phoebe laughed against his mouth. "Let's hurry, then- we can be married before he gets here.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter

“I want you too badly, love. I want you the way dry earth soaks up rain. There may have been a time in my life when I could have seen you like this and still had some hope of self-control. Although I doubt it. I've never seen anything as beautiful as you.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter

“I warned you I'd overstep," he muttered. "I apologize."
"No," Phoebe said curtly, surprising him. "I wanted your opinion. You've made some points worth considering."
West's head lifted, and he looked at her with unconcealed surprise. He'd fully expected her to give him a sharp set-down, or simply turn on her heel and walk off. Instead, Phoebe had set aside her pride long enough to listen to him, which few women of her rank would have done.
"Although next time you might try a gentler manner," she said. "It usually helps criticism go down easier."
Staring into her silver eyes was like drowning in moonlight. West found himself at a complete loss for words.
They were within arms' reach of each other. How had that happened? Had he moved closer, or had she?
His voice was a husk of sound as he managed a reply. "Yes. I... I'll be gentle next time." That hadn't sounded right. "Gentler. With you. Or... anyone." None of that sounded right, either. "It wasn't criticism," he added. "Just helpful hints." Christ. His thoughts were in a heap.
She was breathtaking up close, her skin reflecting light like the silk of butterfly wings. The lines of her throat and jaw were a precise framework of a mouth as full and rich as flowers in deep summer. Her fragrance was subtle and dry and alluring.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter

“You see, I have to keep my promises to my husband," Phoebe said, sounding nearly as distracted as he felt. "I owe it to him."
That rankled far more than it should have, jolting West out of the momentary trance. "You owe the benefit of your judgement to the people who depend on you," he said in a low voice. "Your greater obligation is to the living, isn't it?"
Phoebe's brows rushed down.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter

“Phoebe stared up at Mr. Ravenel with narrowed eyes. He was standing too close to her, his head and shoulders blocking the sunlight. "You should know that looming over me like that doesn't intimidate me," she said curtly. "I grew up with two very large brothers."
He relaxed his posture instantly, hooking his thumbs in his trouser pockets. "I'm not trying to intimidate you. I'm taller. I can't help that."
Hogwash, Phoebe thought. He knew quite well he'd been standing over her. But she was secretly amused by the sight of him trying so hard not to appear overbearing. "Don't think I couldn't cut you down to size," she warned.
He gave her an innocent glance. "Just as long as you do it by hand."
The smart-aleck remark surprised a laugh from her. Insolent rascal.
West Ravenel smiled slightly, his gaze holding hers, and for a moment her throat tinged sweetly at the back, as if she'd just swallowed a spoonful of cool honey.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter

“My lady,
When in difficulty, remember the words of our mutual friend Stephen Armstrong: "You can always swim out of quicksand as long as you don't panic."
Or send for me, and I'll come throw you a rope.
-W. R.

Every time Phoebe had read those words- at least a dozen times since they'd left Eversby Priory- a giddy sensation rushed through her. It had hardly escaped her notice that West had marked sections of the book with x's, just as she had marked Henry's book so long ago. A sly bit of flirtation, those x's- she was welcome to interpret them as kisses, while he could still maintain deniability.
Infuriating, complicated man.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter

“I've been thinking," he said huskily.
A tremulous smile curved her lips. "About what?"
"Trust. When I told you I couldn't count on someone loving me..."
"Yes, I remember."
"I realized that before I can have trust... actually feel it... I'll have to start doing it. Trusting blindly. I'll have to learn how. It's... difficult."
Her beautiful eyes shimmered. "I know, darling," she whispered.
"But if I'm ever going to try it with anyone, it has to be you."
Phoebe inched closer to him. Her eyes were so bright, they were like bottled lightning. "I've been thinking, too."
"About?"
"About surprises. You see, there was no way of knowing how much time Henry and I would have together before his decline started. As it turned out, it was even less time than we'd expected. But it was worth it. I would do it again. I wasn't afraid of his illness, and I'm not afraid of your past, or whatever might leap out at us. That's the chance everyone takes, isn't it? The only ironclad guarantee is that we'll love each other." Her voice thickened with emotion. "And I do, West. I love you so very much.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter

“People always tend to idealize the departed. But I want the boys to understand their father was a wonderful, mortal man with flaws, not an unapproachable saint. Otherwise, they'll never really know him."
"What flaws?" West asked gently.
Her lips pursed as she considered the question thoughtfully. "He was often elusive. In the world, but not of it. Part of that was because of his illness, but he also didn't like unpleasantness. He avoided anything that was ugly or upsetting." She turned to face him. "Henry was so determined to think of me as perfect that it devastated him when I was petty or cross or careless. I wouldn't want-" Phoebe paused.
"What?" West prompted after a long moment.
"I wouldn't want to live with such expectations again. I'd rather not be worshipped, but accepted for all that I am, good and bad.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter

“After years of experience running the club on St. James, Sebastian could talk easily with anyone from royalty down to the most hardened street criminal. Soon he had the men smiling and volunteering information about their work at Eversby Priory.
"Your father has a common touch," came Mr. Ravenel's quiet voice near her ear. He watched Sebastian with a mix of interest and admiration. "One doesn't usually see that in a man of his position."
"He's always mocked the notion that vice runs more rampant among commoners than nobility," Phoebe said. "In fact, he says the opposite is usually true."
Mr. Ravenel looked amused. "He could be right. Although I've seen a fair share of vice among both.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter

“His head bent over hers; she could feel the rush of his unsettled exhalations. The hairs on his chest were not flat and straight, but softly curling. She wanted to brush her nose and lips across them. He smelled of soap, male skin, clean earth and meadow grass, and every breath of him made her feel warm in places that hadn't been warm in years.
When the placket was finally unfastened, Mr. Ravenel raised his arms and let the shirt settle over his head, wincing as the neat row of stitches at his side was strained. Phoebe reached up to tug at the hem of the garment. Her knuckles inadvertently grazed the dark fleece on his chest, and her stomach did an odd little flip. From the surface of her skin down to the marrow of her bones, her entire body was alive with sensation.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter

“What I'd like more than anything," he said quietly, "is for you to listen to an apology."
"You have nothing to apologize for."
"I'm afraid I do." He let out a measured breath. "But first, I have something to give you."
He went to a cabinet in a corner of the room and rummaged through its contents. Finding the object he sought... a small book... he brought it to her.
Phoebe blinked in wonder as she read the gold and black lettering on the battered cloth cover. The title was worn and faded, but still legible.

Stephen Armstrong: Treasure Hunter

Opening the book with unsteady fingers, she found the words written on the inside cover in her own childish hand, long ago.

Dear Henry, whenever you feel alone, look for the kisses I left for you on my favorite pages.

Blinded by a hot, stinging blur, Phoebe closed the book. Even without looking, she knew there were tiny x's in the margins of several chapters.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter

“My father was usually too far in the drink to remember he had children. My mother was half mad and had fewer morals than the barn cat we brought back today. Since none of our relations wanted custody of a pair of impoverished brats, Devon and I were sent to boarding school. We stayed there most holidays. I became a bully. I hated everyone. Henry was especially irritating- skinny, odd, fussy about his food. Always reading. I stole that book from the box under his bed because it seemed to be his favorite."
Pausing uncomfortably, Mr. Ravenel raked a hand through his disordered hair, and it promptly fell back into the same gleaming, untidy layers. "I didn't plan to keep it. I was going to embarrass him by reading parts of it aloud in front of him. And when I saw what you'd written on the inside cover, I could hardly wait to torture him about it. But then I read the first page."
"In which Stephen Armstrong is sinking in a pit of quicksand," Phoebe said with a tremulous smile.
"Exactly. I had to find out what happened next."
"After escaping the quicksand, he has to save his true love, Catriona, from the crocodiles."
A husky sound of amusement. "You marked x's all over those pages."
"I secretly longed for a hero to rescue me from crocodiles someday."
"I secretly longed to be a hero. Despite having far more in common with the crocodiles.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter

“Once as a child, Phoebe had been caught outside in a summer storm, and had seen a butterfly knocked from the air by raindrops. It had fluttered and fallen to the ground, bombarded from every direction. The only choice had been to fold its wings, take shelter and wait.
This man was the storm and the shelter, pulling her into a deep, encompassing darkness where there was too much to feel- hot soft firm sweet hungry rough silken tugging. She strained helplessly in his arms, although she didn't know whether she was trying to escape or press closer.
She had craved this, the hardness and heat of his body against hers, the sensation familiar and yet not at all familiar.
She had feared this, a man with a will and power that matched her own, a man who would desire and possess every last part of her without mercy.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter

“Trembling, Phoebe turned her mouth from his. Her body didn't seem to belong to her. She could hardly stand on her own. She couldn't think. Her forehead leaned on his shoulder as she waited for the wild pumping of her heart to subside.
West buried a quiet curse into the mass of her pinned-up hair. His arms relaxed gradually, one of his hands wandering over her slender back in an aimless, soothing pattern. When he'd managed to moderate his breathing, he said gruffly, "Don't say that was nice."
Phoebe pressed a crooked smile against his shoulder before she replied, "It wasn't." It had been extraordinary. A revelation. One of her hands crept up to his lean cheek and shaped to it gently. "And it must never happen again."
West was very still, considering that. He responded with a single nod of agreement and turned his lips to the center of her palm with urgent pressure.
Impulsively she stood on her toes and whispered in his ear, "There's nothing wicked about you, except your kisses." And she fled the room while she was still able.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter

“What a lovely jaw," she murmured, admiring the clean edge. "I've never properly appreciated it before."
West waited until the blade lifted from his skin before replying. "I was just thinking the same thing about your breasts.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter

“West took a step back, dropped the combs to the floor, and reached out to grasp a handful of shining red hair. He brought a few of the ruddy locks to his face, stroking them over his cheeks and mouth, and kissed them. His face was grave, almost severe, as he stared at her with absolute concentration. "How can you be so beautiful?”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter

“In a few minutes, West had pinned Phoebe against a corner wall of the winter garden, in a sheltered space of stone and feathery leaves. He possessed her with passion-roughened kisses, almost eating at her mouth, greedily drawing in the honeysuckle taste of her. Her skin was milk-white with golden flecks, smoothness quivering at the stroke of his tongue.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter

“Let's set aside the subject of Tom Severin for a moment," West told Cassandra. "Phoebe and I have come up with a plan."
"It's West's plan," Phoebe said.
"You'll recall she has a younger brother named Raphael," West continued. "Tall, unmarried, nice teeth. He's perfect."
"He's not at all perfect," Phoebe said. "And how do you know he's tall and has nice teeth?"
"Your parents are obviously incapable of producing a less than superior human being.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Chasing Cassandra

“Tell me about your children," he said.
"What would you like to know?"
"Anything. How did you decide on their names?"
"Justin was named after my husband's favorite uncle- a dear old bachelor who always brought him books when he was ill. My younger son, Stephen, was named after a character in an adventure novel Lord Clare and I read when we were children."
"What was the title?"
"I can't tell you; you'll think it's silly. It is silly. But we both loved it. We read it dozens of times. I had to send Henry my copy, after-"
After you stole his.
In Henry's view, the worst of West Ravenel's offenses had been stealing his copy of Stephen Armstrong: Treasure Hunter from a box of possessions beneath his bed at school. Although there had never been proof of the thief's identity, Henry had remembered that Ravenel had previously mocked him when he'd seen him reading it. "I know he's the one," Henry had written. "He's probably done something awful with it. Dropped it down the privy. I'd be surprised if the nincompoop can even read."
"Someday when we're big," Phoebe had written in response, full of righteous vengeance, "we'll go thrash him together and take it back from him."
But now she was sitting next to him at dinner.
"-after he lost his copy," she finished awkwardly.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter

“Beef consommé or purée of spring vegetables," she read aloud. "I suppose I'll have the consommé."
"You'd choose weak broth over spring vegetables?"
"I've never had much of an appetite."
"No, just listen: the cook sends for a basket of ripe vegetables from the kitchen gardens- leeks, carrots, young potatoes, vegetable marrow, tomatoes- and simmers them with fresh herbs. When it's all soft, she purées the mixture until it's like silk, and finishes it with heavy cream. It's brought to the table in an earthenware dish and ladled over croutons fried in butter. You can taste the entire garden in every spoonful.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter

“I see there's a choice for the fish course: turbot with lobster sauce, or sole à la Normandie." She paused. "I'm not familiar with the latter."
Mr. Ravenel answered readily, "White sole filets marinated in cider, sautéed in butter, and covered with crème fraîche. It's light, with a tang of apples."
It had been a long time since Phoebe had thought of a meal as anything other than a perfunctory ritual. She had not only lost her appetite after Henry died, she'd also lost her sense of taste. Only a few things still had flavor. Strong tea, lemon, cinnamon.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter

“An estate manager doesn't usually have to work alongside the tenants, does he?" she managed to ask.
"He does if he wants to talk to them. These men and their wives don't have time to set aside their labors for a leisurely cup of tea at midmorning. But they're willing to have a conversation while I help repair a broken fence or take part in brickmaking. It's easier for them to trust a man with a bit of sweat on his brow and calluses on his hands. Work is a kind of language- we understand each other better afterward."
Phoebe listened carefully, perceiving that not only did he respect the estate tenants, he sincerely liked them. He was so very different from what she'd expected. No matter what he had once been, the cruel and unhappy boy seemed to have made himself into someone capable of empathy and understanding. Not a brute. Not a bad man at all.
Henry, she thought ruefully, our enemy is turning out to be awfully difficult to hate.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter

“You're not a possession," he said raggedly. "You can't be passed from one man to another like a painting or an antique vase."
Her voice was faint. "That's not how it is."
"Has he told you he wants you?"
"Not the way you mean. He... he's a gentleman..."
"I want you with my entire body." West dragged his mouth over hers, shaping her lips before settling in for a rough and ardent kiss. He hitched her up against him until her toes barely touched the floor. "You're all I think about. You're all I see. You're the center of a star, and the force of gravity keeps pulling me closer, and I don't give a damn that I'm about to be incinerated." He rested his forehead against hers, panting. "That's what he should tell you.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter

“Too often in the past, I made a public spectacle of myself on the worst possible occasions, in front of the worst possible people. I was an absolute swine. Brawling at parties. Pissing in fountains and vomiting in potted plants. I've slept with other men's wives, I've ruined marriages. It takes years of dedicated effort to discredit one's own name as thoroughly as I did, but by God, I set the bar. There will always be rumors and ugly gossip, and I can't contradict most of it because I was always too drunk to know whether it happened or not. Someday your sons will hear some of it, and any affection they feel for me will turn to ashes. I won't let my shame become their shame."
Phoebe knew if she tried to argue with him point by point, it would only lead to frustration on her part and wallowing on his. She certainly couldn't deny that upper-class society was monstrously judgmental. Some people would perch ostentatiously on their moral pedestals, loudly accusing West while ignoring their own sins. Some people might overlook his blemished reputation if there was any advantage to them in doing so. None of that could be changed. But she would teach Justin and Stephen not to be influenced by hypocritical braying. Kindness and humanity- the values her mother had imparted- would guide them.
"Trust us," she said quietly. "Trust me and my sons to love you.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter

“I thought Lady Helen was going to introduce you to the lady doctor who treated Pandora's shoulder."
"Dr. Gibson? Yes, she's a marvelous woman. As a matter of fact, she came to visit Eversby Priory this summer."
All Phoebe's pleasant feelings abruptly turned disagreeable. "Surely not without a chaperone."
"Garrett Gibson doesn't bother with chaperones," West replied, his lips twitching as if at some private memory. "The usual rules don't apply to her. She brought a patient, Mr. Ethan Ransom, who was injured and needed to recuperate in peace and quiet."
Poisonous jealousy flooded Phoebe. The female doctor was an accomplished and unconventional woman- exactly the kind who would attract his interest. "You must have found her fascinating."
"Anyone would.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter

“You're too handsome to wear a beard," she informed him. "I might allow it someday if you need to conceal a sagging chin, but for now, it has to go."
"At the moment," West said with his eyes still closed, "nothing I have is sagging."
Phoebe glanced downward reflexively. From her vantage point between his splayed legs, she had a perfect view of his lap, where the ridge of a rather magnificent erection strained the fabric of his trousers. Her mouth went dry, and she wavered between uneasiness and intense curiosity.
"That looks uncomfortable," she said.
"I can bear it."
"I meant for me."
The cheeks beneath her fingertips tautened as West tried- unsuccessfully- to hold back a grin. "If it makes you nervous, don't worry. It will disappear as soon as you pick up that damned razor." He paused before adding huskily, "But... it wouldn't be. Uncomfortable, I mean. If we were going to... I would make sure you were ready. I would never hurt you.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter