Duke of Midnight Quotes

“Your cousin might be a pretty face, but you, my darling, courageous, maddening, seductive, mysterious, wonderful Diana, you are the Duchess of Wakefield. My duchess.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Duke of Midnight

“Now I’ll just have to do without.”

She raised her eyebrows. “I’m sorry?”

Then Maximus did something very strange: he went on one knee before her.

“This isn’t right at all,” he said, continuing to glare as if he found it all her fault.

She sat up. “What are you doing?”

“Artemis Greaves, will you do me the honor of —”

“Are you insane?” she demanded. “What of your father? Your conviction that you must marry for the dukedom?”

“My father is dead,” he said softly. “And I’ve decided the dukedom can go hang.”

“But —”

“Hush,” he snapped. “I’m trying to propose to you properly even without my mother’s necklace.”

“But why?” she asked...

“I know that this is rather disappointing,” he said. “But I intend to make you respectable.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Duke of Midnight

“But…” Both men looked over inquiringly when Maximus spoke. “But I never asked you to help me with Noakes.”

Makepeace nodded, his expression grave. “You didn’t have to.”

“You never had to,” St. John concurred.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Duke of Midnight

“Nothing I have will tempt you?” King Herla murmured.

Lin could only shake her head.

“Then perhaps I should offer myself,” Herla said as he sank to his knees before her. “Wonderful girl, will you have me as your husband?”

“Oh, yes,” Lin said.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Duke of Midnight

“He built a tower to try and be closer to her and walled himself inside.”

She stared at him for a moment as if waiting for something. “And?”

He glanced at her, puzzled. “And, what?”

She widened her eyes. “How does the story end? Did the sorcerer win his Moon Maiden?”

“Of course not,” he said irritably. “She lived on the moon and was quite unattainable. I suppose he must’ve starved or pined away or fallen off the wall at some point.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Duke of Midnight

“When you’ve tired of me,” she said softly, precisely, “Apollo will still be my brother. Will still be there for me.”

“I’ll never tire of you,” he said, knowing with every thread of his soul that he spoke the absolute truth.

“Then prove it.”

He knew what she asked with such an open and vulnerable face. Something within him shriveled and died... he’d been on the rack too long for a penance he wasn’t sure he could ever entirely pay.

“You know…” His voice was hoarse, the croaking of a dying man. He licked his lips. “You know why I cannot.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Duke of Midnight

“His eyes were dark, dangerous, and not at all cold. He burned with an internal inferno she wanted to touch. She stared into the gaze of a tiger and knew, even as she watched the cat retreat into the camouflage of a gentleman: The Duke of Wakefield was the Ghost of St. Giles.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Duke of Midnight

“Holding her gaze, he sheathed his short sword and pulled the gauntlet off his left hand with his teeth. He held out his bare hand to her.

She glanced at the proffered hand before laying her palm in his. Hot strength gripped her tightly as he pulled her upright before him, so close she would’ve had to move only inches to brush her lips across his throat. She watched the pulse of his blood beat there, strong and sure, before she lifted her gaze. His head was cocked almost as if he were examining her—searching for something in her face.

She drew in a breath, parting her lips to ask a question.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Duke of Midnight

“Never sleep anywhere but in my bed.” She might have protested, but he turned her roughly so that she lay on her stomach, her cheek pressed into his pillow. He lay on top of her, his upper body braced on his arms but his hips and legs weighing her down. Trapping and holding her. “You’re mine,” he said, laying his cheek against hers. “Mine and no one else’s.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Duke of Midnight

“She slapped him, quick and hard. His head turned slightly with the blow, but other than that his only reaction was the narrowing of his eyes. Her chest was heaving as if she were running. “No! You must go to London. You must get him out. You must save my brother because if you don’t, I swear upon everything I hold holy that I’ll ruin both you and your illustrious name. I’ll—” “Little bitch,” he breathed, his face turned fiery red, and he slammed his mouth against hers. There was no softness in him. He claimed her lips like a marauder: hard and angry. If she’d once thought him cold as ice, well, that ice was burned away now by the fire of his rage.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Duke of Midnight

“The masculine voice was low but clear, capturing the senses, running along the back of her neck like a caress, making her shiver in delight. Artemis very much feared she was gaping. The Duke of Wakefield had a voice to make angels—or devils—weep. It wasn’t the type of male voice currently admired—for the high, unnatural voice of the musico was the rage of London at the moment—but his was the sort of voice that would always seduce the ear. Sure and strong, with a vibrating masculinity on the low notes. She could sit and listen to a voice like this for hours.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Duke of Midnight

“Behave, Miss Greaves,” he murmured under his breath, his voice husky and deep. “Fine words for a man who runs about St. Giles at night in a mask,” she whispered. He frowned, glancing around. “Hush.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Duke of Midnight

“She stood in profile across the green, her back straight, her stance that of some long ago warrior maiden. As he walked toward her, Miss Greaves drew back her bow briskly, aiming a tad high to account for the wind, and let her arrow fly. Before it had hit the target, she’d notched another and shot it. A third followed just as rapidly. He glanced to the target. All three of her arrows were clustered together at the center of the red circle. Miss Greaves, who “did not shoot,” was a better shot than all the other ladies—and probably the men as well. He glanced from the target to her and saw that she stared back, proud and unsmiling. Artemis. She was named for the goddess of the hunt—a goddess who had slain without remorse her only admirer.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Duke of Midnight

“Maximus,” she whispered, all moonlight and strength. “I love you. Never forget that.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Duke of Midnight

“Overhead the moon guided him, his fair mistress, his unattainable lover.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Duke of Midnight

“He immediately took her in his arms and cut off her stays. She didn’t move. He shook her. “Artemis.” Her head flopped back and forth limply. Makepeace laid a hand on his arm. “Your Grace.” He ignored the other man. “Diana.” “Your Grace, I’m sorry—” He swung back his arm and slapped her face, the sound echoing across the water. She choked. Immediately he flipped her so that her face was over the gunwale of the boat. She coughed and a great stream of dirty water fountained out of her mouth. He’d never seen such a wonderful sight in his life.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Duke of Midnight

“Darling,” she said and caught his face between her hands, making him meet her eyes. He didn’t want to. He didn’t like the look in her eyes—a grim determination. “I love you,” she whispered and his soul soared until she uttered her next words. “But I must leave you.” “No.” He clutched at her hips as if he were a child of three refusing to give up his toy sword. “No.” “Yes,” she replied.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Duke of Midnight

“This is my brother we’re talking about, Maximus.” “You’ll take his part before mine?” Oh, he knew it was a mistake even before the words left his lips. Her shoulders squared. “If I must. We shared a womb. We’re flesh and blood, tied together forever, both physically and spiritually. I love my brother.” “As you don’t me?” She stopped, her chemise in her hands before her. For a moment her shoulders slumped and then she raised her head. His goddess. His Diana. “When you’ve tired of me,” she said softly, precisely, “Apollo will still be my brother. Will still be there for me.” “I’ll never tire of you,” he said, knowing with every thread of his soul that he spoke the absolute truth.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Duke of Midnight

“What do you want?” There was silence, broken only by a faint rustling. When he opened his eyes she was buttoning his banyan over her chemise. “Nothing, I think,” she said to her hands. Then, “My freedom, perhaps.” Freedom. He stared. What did freedom mean to such a wild creature? Did she want to be entirely quit of him? “I’ll not let you go,” he snapped. She glanced up at him and her look was sardonic. “Did I ask you to?” “Artemis—”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Duke of Midnight

“I’m not a maiden. You took that.” “And I would again,” he growled. “I’d steal you away and keep you in a castle far from here. Far from any other man. I’d guard you jealously and every night come to your bed and put my cock into your cunny and fuck you until dawn.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Duke of Midnight

“Diana,” he whispered. “My Diana.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Duke of Midnight

“He pulled back, his chest heaving, and looked at her angrily. “Don’t start something you mean to stop.” She met his gaze squarely. “I don’t mean to stop.” His eyes narrowed. “I cannot give you marriage.” She’d known. She’d never thought he could—she would’ve sworn so had she been asked a minute earlier—but his blunt words were an arrow of pain piercing her heart nonetheless. She bared her teeth in a smile. “Have I asked you to?” “No.” “And I never shall,” she vowed.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Duke of Midnight

“Very well.” Artemis blinked, her sweet lips parting as if she didn’t believe what she’d heard. “What?” “I’ll do it.” He turned to go, his mind already making plans, when he felt her fingers clutch at his sleeve. “You’ll take him from Bedlam?” “Yes.” Perhaps his decision had already been made from the moment he’d seen tears in her eyes. He had a weakness, it seemed, a fault more terrible than any Achilles’s heel: he couldn’t stand the sight of her tears.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Duke of Midnight

“He inhaled and spoke without thinking, ignoring their audience. “What has happened?” “You know full well, Your Grace, for what—who—I fight.” Her eyes were glittering and he couldn’t believe it, but the evidence was clear. Tears. His goddess should never weep. He took her arm. “Artemis.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Duke of Midnight

“She couldn’t very well get up and leave him without causing a scene, but she dearly wanted to. “Well, then, in the interests of fairness, perhaps you ought to know, Your Grace, that I have no intention of yielding the field to you.” Beside her he inclined his head a fraction of an inch. “Then en garde, Miss Greaves.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Duke of Midnight

“Maximus turned to the house, thinking. He had no idea how he would do it yet, but he meant to best her. He’d show her that he was the master, and when she’d admitted his victory… well, then he’d have her. And he’d hold her, by God. His huntress. His goddess.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Duke of Midnight

“Diana,” he murmured in her ear, licking. “Diana, you are everything I’ve ever wanted and shall never have.”

Tears pricked at her eyes and she opened her mouth to sob.

“That’s it,” he said. “Weep for me. Bear my pain. Take my come. For I can give you nothing else.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Duke of Midnight

“What are you looking for?” she asked abruptly. “It’s rather rude for a gentleman to enter a lady’s room without permission.”

“I’m not a gentleman.”

“Really? I thought otherwise.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Duke of Midnight

“He thought he saw her smile waver when she read it, then she was hugging him tightly. “You’re the one who needs to take care of yourself. Your escape is still all the news. They’ll be searching for you.” She drew back to look at him, and to his consternation he saw that she had tears in her eyes. “I couldn’t bear to lose you again.” He bent and kissed her forehead. Even if he could speak there was nothing he could say to comfort her.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Duke of Midnight

“Of course I put a chain on him—he’s recovering fast and he’s quite muscular.” He frowned on a thought. “You shouldn’t be visiting him now that he can move about—he might grab you.” She gave him an incredulous look. He grimaced. “I can find a suitable place for him, perhaps a room with a barred door—” “You mean a cage.” “We’ve already discussed this: I’ll not let a madman near you.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Duke of Midnight