189
" The solid lines will be new plantings. The maze will be the centerpiece of the new garden. The pond on one side, the theater on another, so that from the theater one will look across the maze to the pond. There may be viewing places in the theater itself so that visitors may see the maze and those within it. It will be— The pencil finally broke through the paper at this point. He balled his fist, frustrated, the words bottled up inside him. Slim fingers covered his fist, cool and comforting. He looked up. “Beautiful,” she said. “It will be beautiful.” His breath seemed to stop in his lungs. Her eyes were so big, so earnest, so completely captivated by his trifling drawings, his esoteric work. "
― Elizabeth Hoyt , Darling Beast (Maiden Lane, #7)
191
" Still, he watched intently as she began her descent, ready to grab her arm should she waver. “You’re hovering,” she said without turning. “Hovering is my job.” “That’s debatable.” “No, actually, it isn’t,” he said, flatly. “Humph.” They’d reached the ground floor now and she turned to walk toward the back of the house. He grimaced as he took the last step overly hard on his bad leg. She didn’t turn, but he noticed that she slowed her pace for him. "
― Elizabeth Hoyt , Darling Beast (Maiden Lane, #7)
195
" She watched his chest rise and fall and remembered and reflected. All her life things had been taken from her: Apollo, Thomas’s affection, Mama and Papa, her home, her future. No one had ever asked her opinion, garnered her thoughts on what she wanted or needed. Things had been done to her, but she’d never had the chance to do things. Like a doll on a shelf, she’d been moved about, manipulated, flung aside. "
― Elizabeth Hoyt , Duke of Midnight (Maiden Lane, #6)
197
" He made no reply to that, so she continued, gently wiping around his nose, over the broad brow, and up the craggy cheekbones. Not a handsome face. Not pretty or comely. But it was a good face, she thought. Certainly masculine. Certainly one she was attracted to. She paused, swallowing at the thought. She did not know this man. She knew of him—knew that he would without hesitation fling himself into a filthy hole to save her son, knew he was kind to silly dogs and quarrelsome old women, knew he could, with a single, certain look, make her insides heat and melt—but she did not know him. "
― Elizabeth Hoyt , Darling Beast (Maiden Lane, #7)