13 Quotes by Anna Bradley

Charlotte Sutherland was dancing with Cam’s cousin, Julian West. Handsome, charming, irresistible Julian. Damn shame he was such a rake. With every turn of the dance Julian drew closer to the open French doors leading onto the terrace and the dark garden beyond, his quarry caught in his arms. Such a scenario was a bit worrying for the young lady. Someone could get hurt. Or ruined.

Eleanor bit her lip. Camden West appeared remarkably…sturdy. His shoulders were half the length of the mantle, for pity’s sake, and he wasn’t thin or gangly like so many men of such imposing height. Perhaps he padded his coats? Yes, that must be it. The chest and the arms, anyway. Eleanor’s gaze dropped to his tight, buff-colored breeches. He must pad those, as well. Her face heated. My. That was a great deal of padding.

The night they’d made love, Eleanor had given him everything. She’d placed her body and her pleasure in his hands, yes, but she’d given him her trust, too. He’d felt it in every sigh, every gasp, every kiss, and it had devastated him. Humbled him. It was the sweetest pleasure he’d ever known.

Robyn made it a policy to never feel guilty for any of his sins, as it was a short step from guilt to confession. The kiss had been nothing. Or nearly nothing. Very close to nothing. Admit nothing.

Every night afterward, for months, years, he’d think about this moment and wonder what had made him turn. Had he sensed her before he saw her? Or did he catch her scent? Every night afterward, for months, for years, he’d remind himself it didn’t matter why he’d turned. It mattered only he had, and he’d seen her. Nothing was ever the same again, after that.

Something in his chest leapt toward her then. His heart, he thought it was, but it didn’t matter, really. Whatever it was, it was a part of him, and he’d never get it back from her. Didn’t want it back.

She was determined to sever the connection between her brain and her mouth before any unpleasant truths could escape. After all, she didn’t need a brain to flirt, did she?

Oh, how glorious it must be, to care nothing for society’s censure, but how terrible it must be, to care for nothing at all.

His kiss was like being on the back of a runaway horse, soaring over hills and galloping through streams and flying over logs in one spectacular jump after another, heart pounding and hair flying, breathless, exhilarated, and terrified.