Vanessa Barnes

“Life gives us choices. You either grab on with both hands and just go for it, or you sit on the sidelines.”
― Christine Feehan, Night Game

“I claim you as my life mate. I belong to you. I offer my life for you. I give to you my protection, my allegiance, my heart, my soul, and my body. I take into my keeping the same that is yours. Your life, happiness, and welfare will be cherished and placed above my own for all time. You are my life mate, bound to me for all eternity and always in my care.”
― Christine Feehan

“You may set your mind at rest, Miss Anstruther-Wetherby." He glanced down, the planes of his face granite-hard. "I'm not marrying you because of any social stricture. That, if you consider it, is a nonsensical idea. Cynsters, as you well know, do not give a damn about social strictures. Society, as far as we're concerned, can think what it pleases—it does not rule us."
"But… if that's the case—and given your reputation I can readily believe it is—why insist on marrying me?"
"Because I want to."
The words were delivered as the most patently obvious answer to a simple question. Honoria held on to her temper. "Because you want to?"
He nodded.
"That's it? Just because you want to?"
The look he sent her was calculated to quell. "For a Cynster, that's a perfectly adequate reason. In fact, for a Cynster, there is no better reason."
He looked ahead again; Honoria glanced at his profile. "This is ridiculous. You only set eyes on me yesterday, and now you want to marry me?"
Again he nodded.
"Why?"
The glance he shot her was too brief for her to read. "It so happens I need a wife, and you're the perfect candidate." With that, he altered their direction and lengthened his stride even more.
"I am not a racehorse."
His lips thinned, but he slowed--just enough so she didn't have to run. They'd gained the graveled walk that circled the house. It took her a moment to replay his words, another to see their weakness. "That's still ridiculous. You must have half the female population of the ton waiting to catch your handkerchief every time you blow your nose."
He didn't even glance her way. "At least half."
"So why me?"
Devil considered telling her--in graphic detail. Instead, he gritted his teeth and growled: "Because you're unique."
"Unique?"
Unique in that she was arguing.”
― Stephanie Laurens, Devil's Bride

“I’m not a gentleman, I’m a nobleman, a distinction I suspect you understand very well.”
― Stephanie Laurens, Devil's Bride