Sublime

“Mrs. Abbot, I’m going to the kitchen to wash. You’ll want to warn the housemaids to shield their eyes from the sight of my manly torso.” Kathleen, Lady Trenear, came to Garrett. “Whose housemaids would he be referring to?” she asked dryly. “Ours will be crowding into the scullery to obtain the best possible view.”

Her

“It’s time for lunch.” “You’re my lunch.”

The skirts descended in a pretty fall of folds and pleats, with a large decorative bow placed high on her posterior. To her vexation, Rhys wouldn’t leave the bow alone. He was positively mesmerized by it. Every time she turned her back to him, she could feel him playing with it. “Rhys, don’t!” “I can’t help it. It calls to me.”

“Rafe, these rooms are unbelievable. You have to see this chamber pot. I’ve eaten from plates that weren’t this clean.” “Montague . . .” “I’m in earnest. I’d lick this.” He turned the glazed pot over in his hands. “Dare me to?” “No.” “Because I’ll do it.” “Don’t.” Rafe and Clio spoke the word in unison. A mutual, primal cry of desperation.