Mr. Impossible (Carsington Brothers, #2)

by Loretta Chase

The word talk, both men knew, was a euphemism for a very broad range of activities.

Shall we proceed, and ought I do so with my knife drawn?” “You’d better keep it where it is for the moment,” he said. “Otherwise you might stab me to death accidentally.” “If I stab you to death,” she said, “it will not be accidental.”

“I would like to be in a dark place with such a man. I would not hurry out.”

There wasn’t a weapon. She was the weapon.

He was experiencing the ghastly sensation he remembered from boyhood: conscience.

He wished wisdom were a garment, that he might put it on so easily.