Don’t. Don’t play that game.” His brow pressed to hers. “When I heard you cry out . . . it was like a saber to the gut. I wanted to die.

You think to judge me, MacKinnon? I've littered the ground wi' the corpses of men like you."Iain raised his blade and smiled. "You've never met a man like me.

I would have asked you to let down your hair" turning to regard her with a grin, his teeth a slash of white in his blackened face."But it is not quite long enough anymore.

This was getting bloody ridiculous, he thought savagely. If she became any more adorable, endearing, or delectable, something was going to get broken.Most likely his heart.

Husband-hunting. Always a rousing sport. I suppose you go there dressed to kill.""No, indeed. What good is a dead husband?" She smiled airily. "I go dressed to maim only.

You've always done as you pleased, Princess. I can't change you, nor do I want to. You're strong, a fighter. And I've never wanted another woman as I want you.

Killy arched an eyebrow in disbelief. "Don't be thinkin' you can deceive this old man. I've been makin' a fool of myself over women since before you were born.

How were we so lucky? Two people lost in a world only to find solace and companionship in someone just as fractured as they are. I think destiny has played a hand in our union.

...You, you look -- bien -- exactly what you were, a high-ranking British officer, used to unwavering obedience and with the air of a Greek god, gazing down on us mere mortals.

The soldier in the portrait had been a respected and admired officer...The man he had become was fighting a different battle now. He had his demons, just as she had her ghosts.

She narrowed her gaze. “I don’t trust you to keep your eyes closed.”“Smart woman,” he said. “I wouldn’t trust me, either, if I were you.

Warning: Contains a Norman warrior with a thirst for justice, a Welsh rebel princess with second sight and a steady bow hand, magical prophecies, and a plot of royal proportions.

Devilment showed in his eyes. “Well, since it is a trial, we should practice so that we can perfect our kisses.”“You need no practice. You are clearly an expert.

Svi hoće u visine. Želudac se penje u srce, jetrica u salo, poštenje u džepove, samo je pamet prosjakinja, a nitko joj ne dobacuje ni prebijenog groša.

Čast je često ljudska gizda. Nije čovjek častan ato što mu putovi nisu bili kliski pa nije mogao posrnuti... Častan je samo onaj koji govori istinu...