21
" Silence cleared her throat, fearful her voice would come out a croak. “Is she asleep?”
He blinked as if he, too, were waking from a dream, and glanced down at Mary Darling. “Aye, I’m a-thinkin’ she is—she’s stopped fussin’ at me.”
Silence felt a huge smile of relief spread over her face. “She was fussing? Oh, how wonderful!”
He shot her a look, one eyebrow arching. “Ye’ve taught the child to bully me, too, now?”
“Oh, no,” she said hastily, embarrassed. Did he really think she bullied him? What a silly notion! "
― Elizabeth Hoyt , Scandalous Desires (Maiden Lane, #3)
23
" As I said, I don’t expect you to understand—”
“And I don’t,” he cut in. “Ye ask how I can live a life that I know will end with the hangman’s noose. Well, at least I am alive. Ye might as well have climbed inside yer husband’s coffin and let yerself be buried with his corpse.”
Her hand flashed out before she’d thought about it, the smack against his cheek loud in the little courtyard.
Silence had her eyes locked with Michael’s, her chest rising and falling swiftly, but she was aware that Bert and Harry had looked up. Even Mary and Lad had paused in their play.
Without taking his gaze from hers, Michael reached out and grasped her hand. He raised her hand to his lips and softly kissed the center of her palm.
He looked at her, her hand still at his lips. “Don’t take to yer grave afore yer time, Silence, m’love. "
― Elizabeth Hoyt , Scandalous Desires (Maiden Lane, #3)
24
" I must be getting back to my rooms,” Silence said and stood.
Mick frowned with displeasure. “Why?”
“Because of Mary Darling.”
He shrugged. “One o’ the maids is watchin’ her.”
“But if Mary wakes she’ll want me.”
“Why?” he asked again, biting into a sweetmeat. This discussion wasn’t to his fancy, but sparring with her was.
“Because,” she said slowly, looking at him as if he were lack-witted, “she’s only a baby and she loves me.”
“Babies,” Mick pronounced, “are a great trouble.”
She shook her head, not bothering to reply this time, and started marching to the door. "
― Elizabeth Hoyt , Scandalous Desires (Maiden Lane, #3)
32
" Temperance Dews stood with quiet confidence, a respectable women who lived in the sewer that was St. Giles. Her eyes had widened at the sight of Lazarus, but she made no move to flee. Indeed, finding a strange man in her pathetic sitting room seemed not to frighten her at all.
Interesting.
“I am Lazarus Huntington, Lord Caire,” he said.
“I know. What are you doing here?”
He tilted his head, studying her. She knew him, yet did not recoil in horror? Yes, she’d do quite well. “I’ve come to make a proposition to you, Mrs. Dews.”
Still no sign of fear, though she eyed the doorway. “You’ve chosen the wrong woman, my lord. The night is late. Please leave my house.”
No fear and no deference to his rank. An interesting woman indeed.
“My proposition is not, er, illicit in nature,” he drawled. “In fact, it’s quite respectable. Or nearly so.”
She sighed, looked down at her tray, and then back up at him. “Would you like a cup of tea?”
He almost smiled. Tea? When had he last been offered something so very prosaic by a woman? He couldn’t remember.
But he replied gravely enough. “Thank you, no.”
She nodded. “Then if you don’t mind?”
He waved a hand to indicate permission.
She set the tea tray on the wretched little table and sat on the padded footstool to pour herself a cup. He watched her. She was a monochromatic study. Her dress, bodice, hose, and shoes were all flat black. A fichu tucked in at her severe neckline, an apron, and cap—no lace or ruffles—were all white. No color marred her aspect, making the lush red of her full lips all the more startling. She wore the clothes of a nun, yet had the mouth of a sybarite.
The contrast was fascinating—and arousing.
“You’re a Puritan?” he asked.
Her beautiful mouth compressed. “No. "
― Elizabeth Hoyt , Wicked Intentions (Maiden Lane, #1)
34
" Griffin, please,” she whispered.
“Do you want me?” he asked.
“Yes!” She tossed her head restlessly. She’d explode if he didn’t give her release soon.
“Do you need me?” He kissed her nipple too gently.
“Please, please, please.”
“Do you love me?”
And somehow, despite her extremis, she saw the gaping hole of the trap. She peered up at him blindly in the dark. She couldn’t see his face, his expression.
“Griffin,” she sighed hopelessly.
“You can’t say it, can you?” he whispered. “Can’t admit it either. "
― Elizabeth Hoyt , Notorious Pleasures (Maiden Lane, #2)
35
" But he place a gentle palm under her chin and turned her face back to him. “I'm privileged to see you like this,” he said, his eyes fierce. “Wear you social mask at your balls and parties and when you visit your friends out there, but when we are alone, just the two of us in here, promise me this: that you'll show me only your real face, no matter how ugly you might think it. That's our true intimacy, not sex, but the ability to be ourselves when we are together. (Winter Makepeace) "
― Elizabeth Hoyt , Thief of Shadows (Maiden Lane, #4)