242 Quotes by Elizabeth Hoyt

"It was a strange thing, this feeling of empathy. He’d never experienced it before. He realized that what hurt this woman hurt him as well, that what made her bleed caused a hemorrhage of pain within his soul."

"Briefly, he tried to imagine any of his previous, male secretaries daring to comment on his appearance. It was impossible. In fact, he couldn’t think of anyone, save his current female secretary, who made such impertinent comments to him. Oddly, he found her impertinence endearing. Not that he let it show."

"All her life she’d been warned that men were slaves to their desires, that they held their impulses in barely controlled check. A woman – a lady – must be very, very careful of her actions so she did not put spark to the gunpowder that was a man’s libido."

"What do you want?” There was silence, broken only by a faint rustling. When he opened his eyes she was buttoning his banyan over her chemise. “Nothing, I think,” she said to her hands. Then, “My freedom, perhaps.” Freedom. He stared. What did freedom mean to such a wild creature? Did she want to be entirely quit of him? “I’ll not let you go,” he snapped. She glanced up at him and her look was sardonic. “Did I ask you to?” “Artemis –."

"Shh,” he whispered. “You asked me if I loved you. I do. I love you more than life itself. Nothing matters in this world but that you live. Can you do that for me? Can you live?"

"She pulled back and murmured, “I’m still mad at you.” “Are you?” His wounded voice had descended into Stygian depths. He pressed open-mouthed kisses to her jaw. “Yes.” She yanked at his hair in emphasis. He grunted, but her grip didn’t prevent him from lowering his mouth to hers again. He nipped at her lips and then licked at them, softening the sting. “I’ll have to see what I can do to regain your good graces."

"There are no heroes on the battlefield, my lady; there are only survivors."

"What,” she barked, “is that?” “We have a guest for supper tonight,” Miss Stump replied, and as she glanced back at him he thought he saw a mischievous glint in her eye. “Indio’s monster, in fact – though Indio now calls him Caliban.” “Caliban?” Maude narrowed her eyes, cocking her head as she examined him critically. “Aye, I can see that, but is he safe in the theater with us is what I’m wanting to know?” Apollo felt a tug on his hand. He looked down at Indio, who whispered, “She’s nice. Truly."

"He was like a star in the night sky above and she but a sparrow. No matter how high she might try to fly, she’d never reach him."

"He’d forgotten, in those long years in Bedlam, through fear and grief and pain, what it was like to simply be with a pretty woman. To tease and flirt and yes, perhaps steal a kiss. He didn’t know how she felt about that kiss – or if she’d let him kiss her again, but he was certainly going to try. He had lost time to make up – much of life itself to live. He’d spent four years in limbo, simply existing, while others found lovers and friends, even started families. He wanted to live again."