Kimberly

“I agreed to bring you here before I knew what sort of woman you were.” “And what sort is that?” she asked, rising onto her elbows, hoping he would not accuse her of being shallow and loose with her affections. “The kind of woman that a man like me cannot live without,” he replied. “I am in love with you, Larena Campbell. I must take you home with me.”
― Julianne MacLean, Return of the Highlander

“What would you have me do, Darach?” He regarded her with fierce intensity. “Come away with me.” She angrily shook her head. “How can you suggest that? You are asking me to choose between you and my father.” “Aye,” he replied. Growing angrier still, she turned away and strode to the opposite side of the room. “Maybe it’s easier for you. Your father is already dead and you have no family of your own, except for Logan. You abandoned your clan years ago, but I am not built like that. I am loyal to those I love.” “Do not insult me, lass. I am loyal, too,” he said, his footfalls slow across the floor as he approached. “And you would be my family. I would be loyal to you.”
― Julianne MacLean, Return of the Highlander

“What is it?” she asked. “You look pretty, lass.” “Pretty?” she replied with astonishment. “I just woke up.” “Aye, and your hair is tousled, your cheeks are flushed. Good thing it’s dark outside, otherwise you’d be a terrible distraction. I might ride straight into a tree.” She couldn’t help but warm to his words and the friendly, open tone of his voice. She responded in kind. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that flattery will get you nowhere?” “I’m only speaking the truth. And a man can always dream.”
― Julianne MacLean, Return of the Highlander

“As if I would ever discuss that with anyone, least of all you!” As she writhed and began to crawl from his lap, he held her in place easily. “Before you charge away in righteous indignation,” he said, “you might want to refasten your bodice.” “My—” Glancing down at her front, Kathleen saw to her horror that the first few buttons of her dress and the top two hooks of her corset had been undone. She went scarlet. “Oh, how could you?” A flare of amusement lit his eyes. “You weren’t breathing well. I thought you needed oxygen more than modesty.” After watching her frantic efforts to rehook the corset, he asked politely, “May I help?” “No. Although I’m certain you’re quite accomplished at ‘helping’ ladies with their undergarments.” “They’re hardly ever ladies.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Cold-Hearted Rake