Devil's Bride

I’m not a gentleman, I’m a nobleman, a distinction I suspect you understand very well.

You may set your mind at rest, Miss Anstruther-Wetherby." He glanced down, the planes of his face granite-hard. "I'm not marrying you because of any social stricture. That, if you consider it, is a nonsensical idea. Cynsters, as you well know, do not give a damn about social strictures. Society, as far as we're concerned, can think what it pleases—it does not rule us." "But… if that's the case—and given your reputation I can readily believe it is—why insist on marrying me?" "Because I want to." The words were delivered as the most patently obvious answer to a simple question. Honoria held on to her temper. "Because you want to?" He nodded. "That's it? Just because you want to?" The look he sent her was calculated to quell. "For a Cynster, that's a perfectly adequate reason. In fact, for a Cynster, there is no better reason." He looked ahead again; Honoria glanced at his profile. "This is ridiculous. You only set eyes on me yesterday, and now you want to marry me?" Again he nodded. "Why?" The glance he shot her was too brief for her to read. "It so happens I need a wife, and you're the perfect candidate." With that, he altered their direction and lengthened his stride even more. "I am not a racehorse." His lips thinned, but he slowed--just enough so she didn't have to run. They'd gained the graveled walk that circled the house. It took her a moment to replay his words, another to see their weakness. "That's still ridiculous. You must have half the female population of the ton waiting to catch your handkerchief every time you blow your nose." He didn't even glance her way. "At least half." "So why me?" Devil considered telling her--in graphic detail. Instead, he gritted his teeth and growled: "Because you're unique." "Unique?" Unique in that she was arguing.

I'm a Cynster--I've been raised to acquire, defend, and protect. My family is the core of my existence--without a family, without children, I'd have nothing to protect, no reason to acquire.

You like my kisses - and I like kissing you. Why deny ourselves such innocent pleasure?

She drew a swift breath, and let it out on the words: "I love you—more than I've ever loved anyone. I love you so profoundly it goes beyond all reason. And I could never let you go—let you be taken from me—that would be the same as letting life itself go, because you are life to me.

My brand of persuasion doesn't work well at a distance.

he'd slumped beside her. " You can't fear losing me half as much as I fear losing you." It had been a grudging admission; he'd thought her already asleep.

You are riding for a fall, Your Grace," "I'll be riding you before Christmas.

Honoria ground her teeth. "What on earth am I to do with you?" Devil's features hardened, "Marry me." His voice was a frustrated growl. "The rest will follow naturally.

It was not the first time she'd been kissed, yet it was.

They were also invincibly arrogant, a characteristic fueled by the fact that they were, by and large, as talented as they thought themselves, a situation which engendered in less-favored mortals a certain reluctant respect. Not that Cynsters demanded respect - they simply took it as their due

It appeared that his sister, usually an irresistible force, had finally met a sufficiently immovable object.