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Craving Him (Love by Design #2) The Arrangement 8 (The Arrangement #8)

Is there a problem? Honoria asked.

His hands slid down her back, one settling at the small of it, the other reaching down to cup her bottom. She felt herself lifted, pressed hard against him, hard against the evidence of his need for her. And although she knew she should be shocked, or at the very least reminded that she should not be here with him, she could only shiver with delight.It was so lovely to be so desired. To have someone want her so desperately. Her. Not some pretty little governess one could back into a corner and paw at. Not the companion of some lady whose nephew thought she ought to be grateful for the attention.

The Proposal (The Proposition #2)

Not even some young girl who was realy just an easy mark.Lord Winstead wanted her. He’d wanted her before he’d even known who she was. That night at Winstead House, when he’d kissed her . . . For all he’d known she was the daughter of a duke, whom he’d be honor bound to marry just for being alone with her in a darkened halway. And maybe that wasn’t so meaningful, because it wasn’t as if they’d shared more than a few sentences, but he still wanted her now, and she didn’t think it was just because he thought he could take advantage of her.But eventualy sanity settled upon her, or maybe it was simply the specter of reality, and she forced herself to pull away from his kiss. You need to get back, she said, wishing her voice was a bit steadier. They will be waiting for you.

The Chosen (Black Dagger Brotherhood #15)

He nodded, and his eyes looked a little wild, as if he didn’t quite know what had just happened within him.Anne understood. She felt precisely the same way.

Stay here, he finaly said. I will send a maid to show you to your room.

She nodded, watching as he headed across the galery, his gait not quite as purposeful as she was used to seeing in him.He looked her straight in the eye. Oh, you poor, poor thing.

Stop! They’re lovely! she protested. She adored her three charges. Harriet, Elizabeth, and Frances might be more high-spirited than most young girls, but theyStop! They’re lovely! she protested. She adored her three charges. Harriet, Elizabeth, and Frances might be more high-spirited than most young girls, but they had good, kind hearts. And they always meant wel.

About a Dragon (Dragon Kin #2)

His eyebrows rose. Lovely, yes. Wel-behaved, not as much.There was some truth to that, and Anne could not suppress a tiny smile. I’m certain they have matured greatly since you were last in their company, she said primly.

He gave her a dubious look, then asked, How did you come to be playing the piano?Ah. There was a world of meaning in that ah. Do convey my wishes for a speedy recovery. Anne was quite sure that Lady Sarah had begun to feel better the moment her mother had excused her from the concert, but she merely nodded and said that she would be sure to do so. Even though she wouldn’t. There was no way she was teling anyone she’d run into the Earl of Winstead.

Does your family know that you have returned? she asked. She regarded him a bit more closely. He realy did look quite like his sister. She wondered if he had the same remarkable eyes—a vividly pale blue, almost lavender. It was impossible to tell for sure in the dim light of the halway. Not to mention that one of his eyes was rapidly sweling shut. Other than Lady Honoria, of course, she added.Not yet. He glanced toward the public area of the house and grimaced. Much as I adore every last soul in that audience for bringing themselves to attend the concert, I’d rather not make such a public homecoming. He looked down at his disheveled state. Especialy not like this.

Of course not, she said quickly. She couldn’t even begin to imagine the commotion were he to walk in on the post-musicale reception bruised and bloodied.He let out a little groan as he shifted position on the floor, then muttered something beneath his breath that Anne was fairly certain she was not meant to hear. I should go, she blurted out. I’m terribly sorry, and . . . ehrm . . .

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