2
" She was momentarily distracted by the way he held the book in his hands, his fingertips subtly caressing the kid-leather binding. He had princely hands; they were large and manly, full of strength, yet ineffably elegant. She routed a shivery-sweet memory of those smooth, warm hands gliding up under her skin.
"You wished to see me, my lord?" she asked in a studiedly formal tone, one hand still on the door latch.
" 'Come live with me and be my love,
And we will some some new pleasures prove,
Of golden sands and crystal brooks,
With silken lines and silver hooks.' "
Alice blinked in surprise. "I beg your pardon?"
He slid her a disarming, rather wily smile, and continued in a low, magical singsong:
" 'Thee will the river whispering run,
Warmed by thine eyes more than the sun.
And there the enamored fish will stay,
Begging themselves they may betray.
When thou wilt swim in that live bath,
Each fish, which every channel hath,
Will amorously to thee swim,
Gladder to catch thee, than thou him.' "
A blush crept into her cheeks as pink as the rose he had sent her, but she gave him an arch look. Did the cad really expect her to fall for this? "
― Gaelen Foley , Lord of Fire (Knight Miscellany, #2)
4
" They had crossed the terrace where weeds, ivy, and goldenrod had run amuck in the flowerbeds that lined the weather-beaten stone balustrade. Mounds of blue hydrangeas nearly as tall as Lucien crowded the three mossy steps that led down into the formal garden. He went down them, and Alice followed him toward the circular fountain. As they approached, two doves that had perched on the stately stone fountain urn fluttered away, cooing. Alice stopped beside the fountain pool and gazed down with a faraway expression at the lily pads, driven with dreamlike slowness over the surface of the shallow water like tiny sailing vessels. She studied the scene as though memorizing it, while Lucien gazed at her, watching the wind toy with her clothes and the tendrils of her hair that it had worked free from her neat coif.
Her waving red-gold hair, blue eyes, and ivory skin, and the chaste, faraway serenity of her face, put him in mind of Botticelli's Venus, rising from the sea upon her scallop shell. "
― Gaelen Foley , Lord of Fire (Knight Miscellany, #2)
5
" Closing the distance between them, he had savored the modest allure of her walk and felt his body respond to the graceful sway of her hips as they approached the pool. He had envisioned her taking off her robe and showing him her slender nakedness, but instead, she had just stood there, as though searching for someone. It skipped through his mind that when he caught up to the girl, he would either apprehend or ravish her. He still wasn't sure which it would be as he stood before her, blocking her escape with a dark, slight smile.
As she peered up at him fearfully from the shadowed folds of her hood, he found himself staring into the bluest eyes he had ever seen. He had only encountered that deep, dream-spun shade of cobalt once in his life before, in the stained glass windows of Chartres Cathedral. His awareness of the crowd them dimmed in the ocean-blue depths of her eyes. 'Who are you?' He did not say a word nor ask her permission. With the smooth self-assurance of a man who has access to every woman in the room, he captured her chin in a firm but gentle grip. She jumped when he touched her, panic flashing in her eyes.
His hard stare softened slightly in amusement at that, but then his faint smile faded, for her skin was silken beneath his fingertips. With one hand, he lifted her face toward the dim torchlight, while the other softly brushed back her hood. Then Lucien faltered, faced with a beauty the likes of which he had never seen.
His very soul grew hushed with reverence as he gazed at her, holding his breath for fear the vision would dissolve, a figment of his overactive brain. With her bright tresses gleaming the flame-gold of dawn and her large, frightened eyes of that shining, ethereal blue, he was so sure for a moment that she was a lost angel that he half expected to see silvery, feathered wings folded demurely beneath her coarse brown robe. She appeared somewhere between the ages of eighteen and twenty-two- a wholesome, nay, a virginal beauty of trembling purity. He instantly 'knew' that she was utterly untouched, impossible as that seemed in this place.
Her face was proud and weary. Her satiny skin glowed in the candlelight, pale and fine, but her soft, luscious lips shot off an effervescent champagne-pop of desire that fizzed more sweetly in his veins than anything he'd felt since his adolescence, which had taken place, if he recalled correctly, some time during the Dark Ages. There was intelligence and valor in her delicate face, courage, and a quivering vulnerability that made him ache with anguish for the doom of all innocent things.
'A noble youth, a questing youth,' he thought, and if she had come to slay dragons, she had already pierced him in his black, fiery heart with the lance of her heaven-blue gaze. "
― Gaelen Foley , Lord of Fire (Knight Miscellany, #2)
6
" Closing the distance between them, he had saved the modest allure of her walk and felt his body respond to the graceful sway of her hips as they approached the pool. He had envisioned her taking off her robe and showing him her slender nakedness, but instead, she had just stood there, as though searching for someone. It skipped through his mind that when he caught up to the girl, he would either apprehend or ravish her. He still wasn't sure which it would be as he stood before her, blocking her escape with a dark, slight smile.
As she peered up at him fearfully from the shadowed folds of her hood, he found himself staring into the bluest eyes he had ever seen. He had only encountered that deep, dream-spun shade of cobalt once in his life before, in the stained glass windows of Chartres Cathedral. His awareness of the crowd them dimmed in the ocean-blue depths of her eyes. 'Who are you?' He did not say a word nor ask her permission. With the smooth self-assurance of a man who has access to every woman in the room, he captured her chin in a firm but gentle grip. She jumped when he touched her, panic flashing in her eyes.
His hard stare softened slightly in amusement at that, but then his faint smile faded, for her skin was silken beneath his fingertips. With one hand, he lifted her face toward the dim torchlight, while the other softly brushed back her hood. Then Lucien faltered, faced with a beauty the likes of which he had never seen.
His very soul grew hushed with reverence as he gazed at her, holding his breath for fear the vision would dissolve, a figment of his overactive brain. With her bright tresses gleaming the flame-gold of dawn and her large, frightened eyes of that shining, ethereal blue, he was so sure for a moment that she was a lost angel that he half expected to see silvery, feathered wings folded demurely beneath her coarse brown robe. She appeared somewhere between the ages of eighteen and twenty-two- a wholesome, nay, a virginal beauty of trembling purity. He instantly 'knew' that she was utterly untouched, impossible as that seemed in this place.
Her face was proud and weary. Her satiny skin glowed in the candlelight, pale and fine, but her soft, luscious lips shot off an effervescent champagne-pop of desire that fizzed more sweetly in his veins than anything he'd felt since his adolescence, which had taken place, if he recalled correctly, some time during the Dark Ages. There was intelligence and valor in her delicate face, courage, and a quivering vulnerability that made him ache with anguish for the doom of all innocent things.
'A noble youth, a questing youth,' he thought, and if she had come to slay dragons, she had already pierced him in his black, fiery heart with the lance of her heaven-blue gaze. "
― Gaelen Foley , Lord of Fire (Knight Miscellany, #2)
8
" Hesitantly, she glanced at her hand, so pale and delicate looking against the sun-bronzed iron of his body. She bit her lip, knowing she was playing with fire, but truly, he was as beautiful as a god. His body was like a fine classical sculpture, while his broody, quicksilver sensitivity registered a thousand different emotions in his chiseled face, or hid them all. Though she didn't dare move even a finger to explore him, she didn't pull her hand away, either. She noticed in fascination the fierce rhythm of his pounding pulse.
"Your heart is racing," she said, sweeping her gaze up to his face.
His eyes burned like stars; his face was shadowed. He stroked her neck, his fingertips coming to rest on her artery. "So is yours. "
― Gaelen Foley , Lord of Fire (Knight Miscellany, #2)
9
" You're no grenadier. Grenadiers are big, stalwart souls, the first into battle, or so I've been told."
He raised his eyebrow at her, unsure if he was being insulted.
"No," she concluded, "you must have been captain of the light infantry company. The quick-witted ones, the sharpshooters."
"How ever did you guess?"
"I know these things," she said with a sage look, then turned and walked on, entirely pleased with herself.
Lucien gazed after her with a smile on his face. God help him, he was utterly charmed. "
― Gaelen Foley , Lord of Fire (Knight Miscellany, #2)
11
" Lucien saw all heads turn curiously toward the entrance; then his jaw dropped as a graceful beauty in white walked in, her chin high, a strand of pearls draped artfully over her strawberry-blond hair.
'Alice!'
He stared, flabbergasted, transfixed.
'What the hell is she doing here?' He couldn't believe his eyes. Joy and panic crashed in on him from opposite directions. Oh, God, how he had missed her. 'What the hell is she doing in London?'
Caro sidled into the ballroom beside her. The baroness was dressed in a tight black velvet dress, but Alice commanded the room, poised, slender, and cool. With her airy evening gown of white silk wafting sensually against her skin, she was an aloof marble goddess who had just stepped down to life from atop her pedestal. She seemed an entirely different creature than the serious, shy young thing who had ventured into his library last week and had been so easily charmed by a bit of Donne poetry. Now she was a force to be reckoned with. "
― Gaelen Foley , Lord of Fire (Knight Miscellany, #2)
13
" With a gasp, she yanked her hand out of his light hold as though she had been burned. "You are bold, sir!"
"And you are blushing." He slipped her a narrow, charming little smile and went to answer the door.
Anger and confusion thudded in her temples as she tucked her still-tingling hand in her lap. She scowled, furious at her own bewildering state of arousal. She had never felt such things before. Wet and aching between her legs, she squeezed her knees together firmly under her skirts, trying to remind her body that her head and her morals were in charge. Lucien Knight was not. Lust was hardly a sentiment to which she aspired. She slid a furtive glance his way, wondering why he had not yet opened the door. He just stood there, one hand on the doorknob, his head down. Then she realized he was struggling to bring his magnificent body under control.
As though he felt her gaze on his powerful, V-shaped back and lean, muscled derriere, he slowly looked over his shoulder and met her stare in raw longing. Neither of them spoke for a moment, swept up in a totally unexpected, unsought, unwanted attraction of dizzying power.
"Shall I come to you tonight?" he asked very quietly, "
― Gaelen Foley , Lord of Fire (Knight Miscellany, #2)
15
" Resolved to search the nooks and crannies that lined the cave, Alice pivoted- and crashed right into a man's bare, muscled chest.
Right at her eye level, his loose white shirt hung open, revealing a deep V of velvety skin. At this close range, she could see every sculpted ridge of his stomach, every hard plane of his magnificent chest; could practically taste the salty, vibrant sheen of sweat that glowed on his skin. Her heart leaped into her throat with instant recognition; her wits scattered like chickens with a fox in the henhouse.
'Oh, no,' she thought, choking on her gasp.
Slowly lifting her gaze, Alice tilted her head back and looked into the silvery, mocking eyes of Lucien Knight. "
― Gaelen Foley , Lord of Fire (Knight Miscellany, #2)
16
" Let me go, I say!"
He let out a lusty laugh as her hip chafed his groin. "Mm, I like that," he purred, holding her slender body against him.
"You, horrible- stop it!" she yelled. "You're hurting me!"
"Good." He lowered his face toward hers and looked into her eyes with a menacing glower. "Now, then, my beauty, why don't you and I go somewhere private?"
She stopped fighting suddenly, her blue eyes widening, her lovely face going from flushed to pale. "
― Gaelen Foley , Lord of Fire (Knight Miscellany, #2)
17
" And yet-" His lips hovered by her ear as he ran his hands slowly up her belly. "-I could almost believe a night with you would have been worth it." He lifted her breasts in his palms. She jerked back with a small cry into the hard wall of his chest right behind her, her heart pumping in a tumult of confusion, arousal, and fear.
Her chest heaved, thrusting her breasts more fully into his hands, but her breath had formed a tangled knot in her throat. She could not speak, could only feel the heat of his hands burning through the thin muslin of her gown, igniting bewildering forces in her blood. With his powerful arms wrapped around her, she could feel every inch of his lean, iron body molded against her- the angular jut of his knees nudging the backs of her legs, the slopes of his strong thighs against her buttocks, the sculpted plane of his stomach pressing against her back, and his muscular chest pillowing her head.
"Pity," he whispered. "We fit together perfectly."
A bewildering tremor ran the length of her body at his words; then he moved on, resuming his search. Her heartbeat tripped to a frantic staccato as he lowered himself to a crouched position by her right hip and slid his hands under her skirt.
"What are you doing?" she forced out in a wobbly voice.
"Just this." He ran his touch with leisurely slowness up her stockinged leg and hooked his finger into her garter, tracing it all the way around her thigh. A traitorous shiver coursed through her. Sizzling warmth flooded her lower body, making her burn with mortification. "What's your name?" he murmured, lightly tickling the back of her knee. "
― Gaelen Foley , Lord of Fire (Knight Miscellany, #2)
19
" She jumped when he captured one of her long tresses again and ran the length of it slowly between his fingers like a satin ribbon. Resenting the galling forwardness of his touch, she glanced up at him angrily only to be captivated by his smoldering, hypnotic stare.
When he spoke, his voice was an intimate murmur that could have coaxed the deepest secrets of her heart. "Virginal Alice Montague. Tell me, what do you think of what you've seen here tonight?"
She shook her head and looked away, blushing. "I do not know."
He lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze, diamond-sharp, crystal-clear. "Does it arouse you?"
His eyes flared with shock. She could not find her voice even to tell him that she had no intention of answering such a question, but he cut her off before she could speak.
"Don't lie," he chided in a velvet whisper, holding her chin between his fingertips so she could not look away. He gazed at her as though his keen, crystalline eyes could see into the depths of her heart, things she had never revealed to anyone- the unruliness of her passions, the hunger in the core of her. His gaze seemed to accept it all with dark, satin gentleness. "Tell me," he breathed. "Let me remember how it felt to be as innocent as you." He paused, though she did not reply. "Have you never seen people making love before?"
Wide-eyed, her heart in her throat, she gathered her courage and shook her head after a long moment. His expression softened. He gazed down almost tenderly at her. She had never seen such hunger in a man's eyes before, such stark, hurting loneliness. She quivered in response to it, flooded with the strangest, tingling feelings as he picked up her hand and lifted it to his lips.
He placed a gentle kiss in her palm, then pressed her hand to his chiseled midriff. A soft gasp escaped her lips, not merely that he should do such a thing, but at the feel of his bare skin beneath her palm. It electrified her.
She looked up at him, helpless, trembling. Her voice was a strangled whisper, the weakest of protests. "My lord-"
"Shh, Alice, I can see it in your eyes. Go on. I won't bite. All is allowed in this place. Your curiosity is... quite natural," he finished hoarsely. "
― Gaelen Foley , Lord of Fire (Knight Miscellany, #2)
20
" Good-'bye', my lord," she forced out in bravado. With any luck, she would flee this place tomorrow morning without having to face him again.
He slid his hands in his pockets and leaned his shoulder against the door frame, watching her every move. "Goodnight, chérie."
She turned away, feeling his burning gaze on her body as she followed the guard across the anteroom. When the black-coated man started down the narrow spiral stairs, she glanced back over her shoulder one last time at Lucien. He was still standing there, his tall, powerful figure cloaked in shadows, a gleam of calculation in his light-tricked eyes. "
― Gaelen Foley , Lord of Fire (Knight Miscellany, #2)
