Me Tanner, You Jane (Evan Tanner #7) Bad Things (Tristan & Danika #1)
I have not, he answered.
If my mother catches you, she shall be mortally wounded. And she, who saved you from a mortal wound.He looked at her with some surprise. She still thinks you’re talented?
The Harlequin (Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter #15)
Every one of us, Honoria confirmed. I think she is a little sad that I am the last of her daughters to perform. But I suppose the torch will soon pass to a new generation. I have many nieces who are practicing their little fingers off on their tiny little violins.No. It just sounds better to describe them that way.He chuckled at that, then fell silent. They were both silent, just standing there in the drawing room, uncharacteristically awkward and, well, silent.
The Darkest Secret (Lords of the Underworld #7)
It was odd. It was not like them at all.Would you care to take a stroll? he asked suddenly. The weather is fine.
No, she said, a little more brusquely than she would have liked. Thank you.
A shadow passed over his eyes and then was gone so quickly she thought she might have imagined it. Very well, he said stiffly.That must have been quite a rat, he murmured. Almost the size of Australia, I should think. He hadn’t been trying to make her smile, but she did, anyway, the tiniest tilt of her lips. His own heart tilted, and it was difficult to understand how such a small change of expression on her part could cause such a large burst of emotion in his.
He had not liked seeing her so upset. He was only now realizing just how much.He watched as she tried to decide what to do. She wasn’t sure whether she could trust him—he could see that much in her face. She peered out the window, but only briefly, then settled back into her seat, still facing forward. Her lips trembled, and finaly, in a voice so quiet and halting it nearly broke his heart, she said, There is someone . . . I don’t wish to see.
The Last Oracle (Sigma Force #5)
Nothing more. No explanation, no elaboration, nothing but an eight-word sentence that brought forth a thousand new questions. He asked none of them, though.He would, just not yet. She wouldn’t have answered him, anyway. He was astonished that she’d said as much as she had.
Let us leave the area, then, he said, and she nodded gratefuly. They headed east on Piccadily—absolutely the wrong direction, but then again, precisely what Daniel had instructed the driver. Miss Wynter needed time to compose herself before she returned to Pleinsworth House.And he was not quite ready to relinquish her company.
Anne stared out the window as the minutes roled by. She wasn’t sure where they were, and honestly, she didn’t realy care. Lord Winstead could be taking her to Dover and she wouldn’t mind, just so long as they were far, far away from Piccadily.Piccadily and the man who might have been George Chervil.
Sir George Chervil, she supposed he was now. Charlotte’s letters did not arrive with the regularity Anne craved, but they were breezy and newsy and Anne’s only link to her former life. George’s father had died the year before, Charlotte had written, and George had inherited the baronetcy. The news had made Anne’s blood run cold. She had despised the late Sir Charles, but she had also needed him. He had been the only thing keeping his son’s vengeful nature in check. With Sir Charles gone, there was no one to talk sense into him. Even Charlotte had expressed concern; apparently George had paid a call on the Shawcrosses the day after his father’s funeral. He had tried to paint it as a neighborly afternoon cal, but Charlotte thought that he had asked far too many questions about Anne.Sometimes she had to remind herself of the person she’d once been.