" She bit her lips, concentrating, wishing he'd go and sit on one of the chairs before the fireplace. Or stand at the window and watch the full moon. Anything but sit there so close she could smell the sandalwood soap he used.
Night had brought a shadow of a beard to his face. He no longer looked every inch the earl, but more a coach robber, someone who would march her out to the glen and kiss her until she fell to her knees.
He would show no mercy to her. Instead, he would make her beg. "

― Karen Ranney , The Virgin of Clan Sinclair (Clan Sinclair, #3)