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Read through the most famous quotes by topic #highland
Are you decent?" a woman's voice called, pushing the door cautiously ajar. "Nay, but we're clothed," Cian purred. ↗
#funny #highlander #karen-marie-moning #spell-of-the-highlander #funny
Propping the mirror against the wall near the door, he waved a hand at it and clipped, "Drustan: Cian MacKeltar. Cian: Drustan MacKeltar." "Dageus," Drustan's voice was soft as velvet, never a good sign, "why are you introducing me to a mirror? ↗
The smile, the look, tugged at Eleanor's heart. Even in the fleeting glance, she'd seen great love in Ian's eyes, his determination to finish this letter and send it to Beth so she could enjoy decoding it. A way to tell her sweet nothings that no one else could understand. Private thoughts, shared between husband and wife. ↗
#love
I've no' yet tried it beneath the bed, lass," a deep Scots burr purred behind her, "but if 'tis your preference...and the rest of you is half as lovely as what I'm seeing...I might be persuaded to oblige." Dageus to Chloe ↗
That part of his body was simply uncontrollable, apparently functioning in accordance to a single law of nature: She existed--he got a hard-on. ↗
Her eyes heated with the anger and hurt that had been held inside her for too long. "Your trips to the village have not gone unnoticed." A look of confusion crossed his too-handsome face. "What does my going to the village have to do with us?" "I know there are women--" He swore and gripped her arm, jerked her up against his chest. "Who put such nonsense in your head?" She didn't say anything, her throat hot and tight from the ball of tears constricting it. "Finlay," he said flatly. She looked at him in surprise. " 'Tis no secret that he despises me, but I am surprised that you listened to his venom." "It's not too difficult to believe. You are a man." "Aye," he said softly. "But I've not had another woman, Elizabeth." Her heart faltered. Her eyes shot to his, not daring to believe ... He cradled her cheek tenderly in his big hand. "How can I when I want someone else?" He hasn't been with a woman ... he wants me. ↗
All eyes flew to the entrance. A great gray stallion reared up in the doorway, its breath frosting the air with puffs of steam. It was a scene from every fairy-tale romance she'd ever read: the handsome prince bursting into the castle astride a magnificent stallion, ablaze with desire and honor as he'd declared his undying love before all and sundry. Her heart swelled with joy. Then her brow puckered as she scrutinized her "prince." Well, it was almost like a fairy tale. Except this prince was dressed in nothing but a drenched and muddy tartan with blood on his face and hands and war braids plaited at his temples. Although determination glittered in his gaze, a declaration of undying love didn't appear to be his first priority. "Jillian!" he roared. Her knees buckled. His voice brought her violently to life. Everything in the room receded and there was only Grimm, blue eyes blazing, his massive frame filling the doorway. He was majestic, towering, and ruthless. Here was her fierce warrior ready to battle the world to gain her love. He urged Occam into the crowd, making his way toward the altar. "Grimm," she whispered. ↗
#jillian #kare-marie-moning #to-tame-a-highland-warrior #life
Mister MacKeltar," Drustan corrected for the umpteenth time, with a this-is-really-wearing-thin-but-I'm-determined-to-be-patient smile. No matter how many times he told Farley that he was not a laird, that he was simply Mr. MacKeltar, that it was Christopher (his modern-day descendant who lived up the road in the oldest castle on the land) who was actually laird, Farley refused to hear it. The eighty-something-year-old butler, who insisted he was sixty-two and who had obviously never before buttled in his life until the day he'd arrived on their doorstep, was determined to be a butler to a lord. Period. And he wasn't about to let Drustan interfere with that aspiration. ↗
Nope,” she managed. “No other questions.” Eleven centuries of captivity. Hung on his hated enemy’s study wall. Eleven centuries of not touching. Not eating. Not loving. Had he had anyone to talk to? Her face must have betrayed her thoughts, for he startled her by saying softly, “ ’Tis no longer of consequence, lass, but thank you for the compassion. ’Tis nigh over. Seventeen more days, Jessica. That’s all.” For some reason his words brought a sudden hot burn of tears to the backs of her eyes. Not only hadn’t eleven centuries turned him into a monster, he was trying to soothe her, to make her feel better about his imprisonment. “You weep for me, woman?” She turned away. “It’s been a long day. Hell, it’s been a long week.” “Jessica.” Her name was a soft command. She disobeyed it, staring out the window at the rolling hills. “Jessica, look at me.” Eyes bright with unshed tears, she whipped her head around and glared at him. “I weep for you, okay?” she snapped. “For eleven centuries stuck in there. Can I start driving again or do you need something else?” He smiled faintly, raised his hand, and splayed his palm against the inside of the silvery glass. Without an ounce of conscious thought, her hand rose to meet his, aligning on the cool silver, palm to palm, finger to finger, thumb to thumb. And though she felt only a cold hardness beneath her palm, the gesture made something go all warm and soft in her heart. Neither of them spoke or moved for a moment. ↗
He had a come-and-get-me-baby-I'm-pure-trouble-and-you're-gonna-love-it kind of attitude. ↗
#attitude #gabby #karen-marie-moning #the-immortal-highlander #attitude
