“As I said, you have mistaken me for another. London is full of drab little peahens, sir. Now, then, I’m leaving,” she said in a huff. “To change?” he asked, unable to stop from goading her. “To write a poem… — Charlotte Featherstone Copy Share Image
“I’m still scared, still wanting to run at times when I look into your eyes and wonder how I will ever be the sort… — Charlotte Featherstone Copy Share Image
“She was breathtaking in her beauty and her human spirit, he thought, unable to speak as he gazed upon her. Hers was the sort that would not fade or grow jaded with time and years, but flourish, grow more radiant with life and its experience. Hers was a beauty that no other possessed. A beauty he longed to keep, to… — Charlotte Featherstone Copy Share
“How will I accomplish such a thing?” he said, and her lashes fluttered closed as his bottom lip scraped gently up the curve of… — Charlotte Featherstone Copy Share Image
“Everywhere you are, I will be. Everywhere you go, I will go. I will follow you into your dreams, stay while you sleep, watch… — Charlotte Featherstone Copy Share Image
“A friend. A companion. A beautiful, passionate lover to spend the days and nights with. A woman to carry my children, a partner to… — Charlotte Featherstone Copy Share Image
“He was drowning, he finally admitted. Drowning in the allure of Lady Jane Westbury.” — Charlotte Featherstone Copy Share Image
“She brought a finger to her mouth, licked it. Salt. A clean scent. Not male sweat rich with the scent of musk and masculine… — Charlotte Featherstone Copy Share Image
“She saw how he was staring at it, the bright red hue beneath her bonnet. She could not bear to see the way he… — Charlotte Featherstone Copy Share Image
“No, by God, you’ve accused me of coldness, but how can you, when you can feel how hot my body is against yours? You’ve… — Charlotte Featherstone Copy Share Image
“But this night is not through. We’ve made love. And now, to the bed, where the f*cking will commence.” — Charlotte Featherstone Copy Share Image
“Slave. Minion. Fiend. The others who have come before me have been called such things, but I prefer to think of myself as a… — Charlotte Featherstone Copy Share Image
“Pressing his forehead to the cool glass, he held her gaze, her palm, his eyes pleading with her. Don’t go. Don’t leave me.” — Charlotte Featherstone Copy Share Image
