Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ

“The entire time I'm burning in Hell, I'll regret each tear I made you weep. But if Hell were the price for twenty days with you, I'd condemn myself again and again.

- Cian MacKeltar ”
― Karen Marie Moning, Spell of the Highlander

“What's under the kilt?"
His smile teased. "Need.”
― Catherine Bybee, Binding Vows

“Ryodan finished filling the gas tank, opens the door, and gets back in.
"Ow! If you sit on me one more time." I growl at him, "I'm going to kill you."
"Good luck with that. Don't fucking move every time I get out. You're on my side of the seat again."
"Watch out for my indent," I say crossly.
"Hummer, Mac. Nothing causes indents. Except grenades."
"I have several of those," Jada says. "Persist with your pointless bickering, I'll share one. Pin out."
I ignore her. "I'm cramped. I need to stretch."
"So, get out when I do."
"I'm afraid you'll leave me behind since you can't see me."
"I'd leave you behind if I could see you."
"Christ, would the two of you just shut up?" Dageus growls. You've been at it for hours. I think I have a headache.”
― Karen Marie Moning, Burned

“She slid her fingers into his thick hair and melted while he kissed her as if there were no tomorrow. He tempted, he seduced, he enticed.

And she willingly followed.”
― Donna Grant, Fire Rising

“She trusted him. Her heart knew him.

And her body wanted him.”
― Donna Grant, Fire Rising

“A word, Sir Jamie. Quickly!"
You may speak freely, Alwyn," Jamie sighed. "You are always making too mcuh of minor incidents."
You're no' going to believe it, Sir Jamie," Alwyn gasped. "But I swear every male Fergusson alive is outside our gate.”
― Johanna Lindsey, A Gentle Feuding

“Are ye always standing like a stallion?"
His low chuckle brought another wave of gooseflesh across her skin.
"Only when Ye're near.”
― Amy Jarecki, Beauty and the Barbarian

“Sammi watched him walk toward her.

He walked like a predator, a conqueror. A king who ruled and commanded all. He was sex and sin, decadence and sensuality.

He was, simply put, spectacular.”
― Donna Grant, Fire Rising

“Don't try to tell me it's because I'm scared, because the truth is the only time I'm not terrified is when I'm with you.”
― Donna Grant, Prince of Desire

“She lifted a shoulder casually and slowly blinked.
"Where do you want to be?"

"With you," he answered without hesitation.”
― Donna Grant, Fire Rising

“I expected you to look... content, happy even, after your alone time with Sammi, not all mopey and depressed. You didn't screw up, did you? Don't all Kings make love perfectly?”
― Donna Grant, Fire Rising

“Nursed in poverty he acquired a hardihood which enabled him to sustain severe privations. As the simplicity of his life gave vigour to his body, so it fortified his mind. Possessing a frame and constitution thus hardened he was taught to consider courage as the most honourable virtue, cowardice the most disgraceful failing.”
― David Stewart, Sketches of the Character, Institutions and Customs of the Highlanders of Scotland

“Were ye sent by the fairy folk? Do no' lie to me.”
― Amy Jarecki, Beauty and the Barbarian

“I do no' think ye should lick me leg.”
― Amy Jarecki, Beauty and the Barbarian

“Are ye hungry?" she asked, her voice soothing.
His stomach growled. "I could cut the heart out of a stag and eat it raw."
She chuckled. "Fortunately, we do no' have to go to such extremes.”
― Amy Jarecki, Beauty and the Barbarian

“Holy fairy feathers, why does he have to be so handsome? Why couldn't a haggard old man have washed ashore?”
― Amy Jarecki, Beauty and the Barbarian

“Learning to pipe isn't easy. At first it always sounds worse than a chicken yard full of squawking adolescent roosters.”
― Amy Jarecki, Beauty and the Barbarian

“The three sisters sat together, Masie in the middle, gazing at the twinkling stars. Wee Masie squeezed her eyes closed; praying hard to the gods a shooting star would magically appear. Please, if ye grant me this one wish, I promise to eat all my cabbage. She wrinkled her nose but her promise was good.”
― Victoria Zak, Beautiful Darkness: Masie

“He rose up like a languid god after devouring a bountiful feast.”
― Paula Quinn, Laird of the Mist

“Suddenly, the man was thrown off her. Darcy looked around, but saw nothing. She rose up on her elbows to see the man climbing to his feet, shaking his head to clear it. His four comrades were looking up to the sky nervously.
A huge, dark shape descended from the sky, vanishing quickly. Along with one of her attackers. Darcy was afraid to move and be taken as well. She remained still, her chest heaving.
Another shape formed out of the dark sky. She could only stare openmouthed at the dragon coming right for her.
Just before he touched down, the dragon shifted, taking the form of a man—a man that left her breathless and awestruck.
There was no denying she was looking at a Dragon King.
He stood naked, his hands at his sides while his gaze was riveted on the men who accosted her. The shadows kept much of him out of sight, but the streetlamps shed enough light of the hard sinew of his body that she wanted to see more.
His lips peeled back in a snarl as he fought the four remaining men. He moved quickly, as if it were as effortless as breathing.
The men began to throw huge bubbles of magic at the Dragon King. He dodged many of them. The few that hit him barely made an impact other than to infuriate him, if his bared teeth were any indication.
The man—or whatever he was—who had stopped her in the pub was struck down with lethal force by the Dragon King. Darcy almost cheered, but it got lodged in her throat when she saw something out of the corner of her eye.
Had she not turned right then, Darcy would never have seen the second dragon swoop from the sky and wrap its talons around another of the men before flying away, crushing him.
That left just two of her attackers. They and the Dragon King circled each other on the street.
“She’s ours,� one of the red-eyed men said.
The Dragon King merely raised a brow. “Think again, Dark.�
More globes of magic flew from the two Dark, but the Dragon King was too fast. He came up behind one of the Dark and ripped out his spinal column. The same instant the dragon grabbed the other. Both Dark fell lifeless to the ground a moment later.
Darcy hadn’t moved a muscle in the few minutes that had passed. The need that had assaulted her earlier with the Dark was now gone. But she wasn’t alone.
The Dragon King’s gaze turned to her. Darcy watched him standing in the glow of the streetlight, completely mesmerized by the dragon tat that ran from the King’s right shoulder, under his armpit, and down his side to the top of his right thigh.
The dragon’s head was at the front of the man’s shoulder and had his mouth open as if on a roar. He was rearing with his wings up and out. It was his long tail that stopped at the King’s thigh.
The King glistened with sweat that made his muscles gleam in the light. Darcy had the absurd notion to run her hands all over his body, learning the feel of his hard muscles and warm skin.
Her gaze traveled down his wide chest to his washboard stomach and narrow waist. Then lower...”
― Donna Grant, Soul Scorched

“It had seemed entirely sensible at the time. A simple way to test the truth of her claim that she had lain with de Villiers. To show her that lying to him was useless. To make a point.
Instead, he had ignited a desire that burned him like none he had ever felt before.
He had expected Lady Laurien d'Amboise to be a timid little convent mouse. Quiet and passive and pliant. Easily manageable. Instead she was outspoken and strong-willed...and stunning in a way he could not even describe.
An innocent beauty caught up in a deadly game that was none of her making....
Malcolm rose to leave, chuckling.
"And what is there to laugh about?"
Darach gave his jovial friend a dour look.
Malcolm stopped just long enough to do his best imitation of Darach. "'Simple. Kidnap one French lass, hold her for a fortnight, and return her to de Villiers after he meets our demands. Perfectly simple.”
― Shelly Thacker, His Stolen Bride

“Rolling onto his side, he drew her close. "Sleep, milady. I will keep you warm tonight, and safe." He pulled the blanket over her, wrapping one arm around her waist as he settled beside her on the furs. "And for one night, at least, neither of us will be alone.”
― Shelly Thacker, His Stolen Bride

“She clenched her fists. "I believe, milord, that I have endured my full limit of male tyranny."
"I am afraid, milady, that you will have to become accustomed to it. It is the way of things, here in the world beyond your cloister." He turned her forward and nudged her to continue down the stairs. "This world would fall into chaos if women were allowed to do whatever they wished.”
― Shelly Thacker, His Stolen Bride

“He watched her emerald eyes darken with need until they were the color of the Highland hills warmed by the summer sun.”
― Shelly Thacker, His Stolen Bride

“Warm lips met her shoulder where he placed a light kiss. "Doona be afraid of me. I'll always protect you."
Kinsey moved back against him, allowing her shoulder to rub against his bare chest. Heat radiated from him, cocooning her in everything Ryder.”
― Donna Grant, Smoke and Fire

“Please accept my apologies, lass. I should nae have been so forward, but I've been wanting to kiss ye.”
― Victoria Roberts, Snakes in the Garden

“The Highlanders are not without considerable quantities of corn, yet have not enough to satisfy their numbers, and therefore yearly come down with their cattle, of which they have greater plenty, and so traffic with the Lowlanders for such proportions of oats and barley as their families or necessities call for.”
― Thomas Morer, A Short Account of Scotland

“—Lo nuestro [...] es lo mejor que hemos tenido y que tendremos en la vida, mi amor. Sé que no soy fácil de llevar. Sé que tengo que pulir muchas cosas de mi carácter, pero también sé que, si te pierdo, no volveré a ser feliz en mi vida, porque eres la mujer que quiero besar, que quiero mimar, que quiero abrazar, y haré todo lo necesario para recuperar a mi guerrera.”
― Megan Maxwell, Una flor para otra flor

“By the light which the fire afforded, Waverley could discover that his attendants were not of the clan Ivor, for Fergus was particularly strict in requiring from his followers that they should wear the tartan striped in the mode peculiar to their race; a mark of distinction anciently general through the Highlands, and still maintained by those Chiefs who were proud of their lineage, or jealous of their separate and exclusive authority.”
― Walter Scott, Waverley

“Highlanders, driving their "creagh" toward Balquhidder, passed, their moccasin-clad feet leaving as little impress on the mist as they had left in life upon the tussocks of bent-grass. They urged the shadowy cattle with the ponts of their Lochaber axes; and last of all, wrapped in his plaid, his thick hair curling close about his hard-lined features, passed one I knew at once by his great length of arm and red beard, on which the damp hung in a frosty dew, just as it hung upon the coats of the West Highland kyloes that he drove before him on the rode. Though for two hundred years he had slept well in the lone graveyard of the deserted church beside Loch Voil, he seemed to know the road as perfectly as he had known it in his old foraying days. As he passed he moved his target forward and his hand stole to his sword, as if he recognised one of his ancient foes. Then he was swallowed up by the same mist that had protected him so often in his life.”
― R.B. Cunninghame Graham, Faith