A Rake's Vow Quotes

“Climb every mountain , Ford Every stream
Follow every rainbow ,'Till you find your dream”
― Stephanie Laurens, A Rake's Vow

“You also," he said, lowering his voice, "haven't yet
thanked me for saving you from sitting in the flower bed."
She didn't even look up. "It was entirely your fault that I nearly did. If you hadn't sneaked up on me, I wouldn't have been in any danger of landing in the weeds." She glanced briefly at him, a touch of color in her cheeks. "A gentleman would have coughed or something."

Vane trapped her gaze, and smiled—a slow, Cynster smile. "Ah," he murmured, his voice very low. He shifted fractionally closer. "But, you see, I'm not a gentleman. I'm a Cynster." As if letting her into some secret, he gently informed her: "We're conquerors—not gentlemen.”
― Stephanie Laurens, A Rake's Vow

“And remembered—all he'd nearly forgotten, all her wild responses had driven from his mind. This was one seduction he had to, needed to, manage
perfectly—this time, there was meaning beyond the act. Seducing Patience Debbington was too important to rush—conquering her senses, her body,
was only the first step. He didn't want her just once—he wanted her for a lifetime.”
― Stephanie Laurens, A Rake's Vow

“I'm renowned within the ton as being cool under fire- around you, I'm never cool. I'm heated- I seethe- I burn with desire. If I'm in the same room, all I can think about is heat- your heat- and how you'll feel around me."
Patience felt the heat rise, a real force between them.
"I've gained the reputation of being the soul of discretion- now look at me. I've seduced my godmother's niece- and been seduced by her. I share her bed openly, even under my godmother's roof." His lips twisted wryly. "So much for discretion."
He drew a deep breath; his chest brushed her breasts.
"And as for my vaunted, up-until-you 'legendary' control- the instant I'm inside you that evaporates like water on hot steel."
What prompted her Patience never knew. His lips were so close- with her teeth, she nipped the lower. "I told you to let go- I won't break."
The tension, pouring off him in waves, eased, just a little. He sighed, and rested his forehead on hers. "I don't like losing control- it's like losing myself- in you."
She felt him gather himself, felt the tension swell and coalesce about them.
"It's giving myself to you- so that I'm in your keeping."
The words, low and gravelly, rolled through her; closing her eyes, she drew in a shallow breath. "And you don't like doing that."
"I don't like it- but I crave it. I don't approve of it, yet I yearn for it." His words feathered her cheek, then his lips touched hers. "Do you understand? I haven't any choice."
Patience felt his chest swell as he drew a deep breath.
"I love you."
She shivered, eyes shut tight, and felt the world shift about her.
"Losing myself in you- giving my heart and soul into your keeping- is part of that."
His lips brushed hers in an inexpressibly tender caress.
"Trusting you is part of that. Telling you I love you is part of that."
His lips touched hers; Patience didn't wait for more. She kissed him. Letting go of the post, she slid her hands up, framing his face, so she could let him know- let him feel- her response to all he'd said.
He felt it, sensed it- and reacted; his arms locked tight about her. She couldn't breathe, but she didn't care. All she cared about was the emotion that held them, that flowed so effortlessly between them.
Silver and gold, it wound about them, investing each touch with its magic. Silver and gold, it shimmered about them, and quivered in their fractured breaths. It was immediate compulsion and future promise, heavenly delight and earthly pleasure. It was here and now- and forever.”
― Stephanie Laurens, A Rake's Vow

“For one moment, she stood stock-still, drinking in the simple beauty of the marble fountain, the base of its pedestal wreathed in delicate fronds, that stood, glowing lambently in the soft white light, in the center of a small, secluded, fern-shrouded clearing. Water poured steadily from the pitcher of the partially clad maiden frozen forever in her task of filling the wide, scroll-lipped basin.
The area had clearly been designed to provide the lady of the house with a private, refreshing, calming retreat in which to embroider, or simply rest and gather thoughts. In the moonlit night, surrounded by mysterious shadow and steeped in a silence rendered only more intense by the distant sighing of music and the silvery tinkle of the water, it was a hauntingly magical place.
For three heartbeats, the magic held Patience immobile.
Then, through the fine silk of her gown, she felt the heat of Vane's body. He did not touch her, but that heat, and the flaring awareness that raced through her, had her quickly stepping forward. Hauling in a desperate breath, she gestured to the fountain. "It's lovely."
"Hmm," came from close behind.
Too close behind. Patience found herself heading for a stone bench, shaded by a canopy of palms. Stifling a gasp, she veered away, toward the fountain.”
― Stephanie Laurens, A Rake's Vow

“Patience's breath caught. Her lids fell. Wordlessly, she lifted her face, offering her lips.
He took them, took her- as their lips fused, Patience felt his hands slide lower, deliberately tracing the ripe hemispheres of her bottom. He filled his hands, then kneaded- heat spread, prickling over her skin, leaving it fevered. Cupping her firm flesh, he molded her to him, easing her deeper into the V of his braced thighs.
She felt the evidence of his desire, felt the hard, heavy, throbbing reality pressed against her soft belly. He held her there, senses fully awake, fully aware, for one achingly intense instant, then his tongue slowly surged, thrusting deep into the softness of her mouth.
Patience would have gasped, but she couldn't. The evocative caress, his unhurried possession of her mouth, sent heat rolling through her. It pooled, hot and heavy, in her loins. As the kiss drew her in, drew her deeper, a heady languor spread, weighting her limbs, slowing her senses.
But not muting them.
She was achingly aware. Aware of the hardness that surrounded her, of the steely flex of hard muscle about her. Of her tightly furled nipples pressed hard to the wall of his chest; of the softness of her thighs held intimately against him. Of the relentless, driving passion he ruthlessly held back.
That last was a temptation, but one so potently, preeminently dangerous not even she dared prod it.
Not yet. There were other things she'd yet to learn.”
― Stephanie Laurens, A Rake's Vow

“Delicate, hauntingly uncertain music floated out of the house. Vane heard it as he walked up from the stables. The lilting strains reached him, then wrapped about him, about his mind, sinking into his senses. They were a siren's song- and he knew precisely who was singing.
Halting on the graveled drive before the stable arch, he listened to the moody air. It drew him- he could feel the tug as if it was physical. The music spoke- of need, of restless frustration, of underlying rebellion.”
― Stephanie Laurens, A Rake's Vow

“Patience's mental imprecations reached new heights. Mrs. Chadwick had not lied- Vane Cynster was the very epitome of an elegant gentleman. His hair, burnished chestnut several shades darker than her own, glowed softly in the candlelight, wave upon elegant wave sitting perfectly about his head. Even across the room, the strength of his features registered; clear-cut, hard-edged, forehead, nose, jaw, and cheeks appeared sculpted out of rock. Only his lips, long and thin with just a hint of humor to relieve their austerity, and the innate intelligence and, yes, wickedness, that lit his grey eyes, gave any hint of mere mortal personality- all else, including, Patience grudgingly acknowledged, his long, lean body, belonged to a god.”
― Stephanie Laurens, A Rake's Vow

“With a silent mew, Myst stood, stretched, then padded forward to twine about his leg. Vane reached down and rubbed his fingers over the sleek head, then ran his nails down her spine. Myst arched, tail stiffening; the rumble of her purr reached Vane.
It also reached Patience; she glanced down. "Myst!" she hissed. "Stop bothering Mr. Cynster."
"She's not bothering me." Capturing Patience's gaze, Vane added: "I enjoy making females purr.”
― Stephanie Laurens, A Rake's Vow

“The warm stillness within the room was broken only by the rustling of sheets, and soft, urgent murmurs. Then the silence gave way to soft moans, groans, breathless pants, desperate gasps. Culminating in a soft, piercingly sweet scream, dying, sobbing, into a deep guttural groan.”
― Stephanie Laurens, A Rake's Vow

“I assume 'elegant gentlemen,' such as you, learn such useful skills very early in life."
"Actually, no." Straight-faced, Vane reached for her pins. "Us rakes-of-the-first-order..." Dropping pins left and right, he set her hair cascading down. With a satisfied smile, he caught her about the waist and drew her hard against him. "We," he said, looking into her eyes, "spend our time concentrating on rather different skills- like letting ladies' hair down. And getting them out of their clothes. Getting them into bed. And other things."
He demonstrated- very effectively.”
― Stephanie Laurens, A Rake's Vow

“Assault!" he croaked.
"The battery might yet follow." The warning- entirely unnecessary from Patience's perspective- came from Vane. One look at his face, as hard as granite and equally unyielding, would have informed any sane person of that fact.”
― Stephanie Laurens, A Rake's Vow

“So," he murmured, his tone deep, "nothing of any moment happened here."
Her gaze transfixed by the long strip of linen, Patience tried to speak and couldn't- she shook her head.
"Good." The word was a feral purr. With a negligent flick, Vane sent the cravat to join his coat. "So there's nothing to distract you."
Patience dragged her gaze up to his face. "Distract me?"
"From the subject we need to discuss."
"You want to discuss something?" She hauled in a breath and tried to steady her giddy head.
Vane trapped her gaze. "You. Me." His face hardened. "Us."
With a supreme effort, Patience raised her brows. "What about 'us'?"
A muscle in his jaw flickered. From the corner of her eye, she saw his fist clench. "I," he declared, "have reached the end of my tether.”
― Stephanie Laurens, A Rake's Vow

“These look rather exotic."
Behind her, Vane studied the way her gown had pulled tight over the curves of her bottom- and didn't argue. Lips lifting in anticipation, he moved in- to spring his trap.
Her heart racing, tripping in double time, Patience straightened, and went to slide around the fountain, to place it between herself and the wolf she was trapped in the conservatory with. Instead, she ran into an arm.
She blinked at it. One faultless grey sleeve enclosing solid bone well covered with steely muscle, large fist locked over the scrolled rim of the basin, it stated very clearly that she wasn't going anywhere.
Patience whirled- and found her retreat similarly blocked. Swinging farther, she met Vane's gaze; standing on the tiled floor, one step below her, arms braced on the rim, his eyes were nearly level with hers. She studied them, read his intent in the silvered grey, in the hardening lines of his face, the brutally sensual line of those uncompromising lips.
She couldn't believe her eyes.
"Here?" The word, weak though it was, accurately reflected her disbelief.
"Right here. Right now.”
― Stephanie Laurens, A Rake's Vow

“Dazed, she glanced around; the dark shapes of huge leaves reared above the denser dark of heavy pots, grouped upon a tiled floor. Moonlight streamed through walls of long windows and panes in the ceiling, silvering paths wending between sends of palms and exotic blooms. The rich scents of earth and the warm humidity of growing things hung on the heavy air.”
― Stephanie Laurens, A Rake's Vow

“He'd drawn her as close as propriety allowed; her green skirts swished against his boots. She was all woman, soft and curvaceous, mere inches away; he grew harder simply at the thought. The breeze, wafting past, lifted her perfume to his face- honeysuckle, roses, and that indefinable scent that evoked every hunter's instinct he possessed.
Abruptly, he cleared his throat. "Nothing happened last evening?" It was an effort to lift his voice from the gravelly depths to which it had sunk.
"Nothing." Patience slanted him a sharp, slightly curious glance. "Distressingly, Edmond and Henry have reverted to their competitive worst. Stolen items, or the disposal of same, seemed exceedingly far from their minds. If either of them are the thief or the Spectre, I'll eat my new bonnet."
Vane grimaced. "I don't think your new bonnet's in any danger." He studied the stylish creation perched atop her curls. "Is this it?"
"Yes," Patience returned, somewhat waspishly. He could at least have noticed.
"I thought it looked different." Vane flicked the cockade perched over her eyebrow- and met her gaze with a far-too-innocent look.”
― Stephanie Laurens, A Rake's Vow

“With a curt nod, Vane strode in. And stopped dead.
Patience was in the hall, waiting- the sight literally stole his breath. As his gaze, helplessly, slid over her, over the soft green merino pelisse, severely cut and snugly fitted, its upstanding collar framing her face, over the tan gloves and half boots, over the pale green skirts peeking beneath the pelisse's hem, Vane felt something inside him tighten, click, and lock.
Breathing was suddenly more difficult than if someone had buried a fist in his gut.
Her hair, glinting in the light streaming in through the door, was coiffed differently, to more artfully draw attention to her wide golden eyes, to the creaminess of her forehead and cheeks, and the delicate yet determined line of her jaw. And the soft vulnerability of her lips.”
― Stephanie Laurens, A Rake's Vow

“Steel shards, his eyes held hers. Breathless, Patience blinked up at him. His face was hard, a warrior's mask. Waves of anger and aggression lapped about her.
"When it comes to distraction," he informed her through clenched teeth, "nothing in this world could top you."
His words were invested with meaning- a meaning she didn't understand.”
― Stephanie Laurens, A Rake's Vow

“Why are you here?"
Her words were a thread of silver in the moonlight. His answer was deep as the deepest shadows.
"You offered to be my inamorata, remember?”
― Stephanie Laurens, A Rake's Vow

“What's your enterprise of choice?"
Vane grinned. "Hops."
Patience blinked. "Hops?"
"A vital ingredient used to flavor and clarify beers. I own Pembury Manor, an estate near Tunbridge in Kent."
"And you grow hops?"
Vane's smile teased. "As well as apples, pears, cherries, and cob nuts."
Drawing back in her saddle, Patience stared at him. "You're a farmer!"
One brown brow rose. "Among other things."
Recognizing the glint in his eyes, she swallowed a humph.”
― Stephanie Laurens, A Rake's Vow

“Beyond his volition, Vane's gaze lowered to her lips, to the soft rose-tinted curves he now knew so well. Their shape was etched in his mind, their taste imprinted on his senses.
Patience's lids fluttered down. She stretched upward on her toes.
Vane couldn't have drawn back from the kiss- couldn't have avoided it- had his life depended on it.
Their lips touched, without the heat, without the driving compulsion that remained surging in their souls. Both held it back, denying it, content for one timeless moment simply to touch and be touched. To let the beauty of the fragile moment stretch, to let the magic of their heightened awareness wash over them.
It left them quivering. Yearning. Curiously breathless, as if they'd been running for hours, curiously weak, as if they'd been battling for too long and nearly lost.”
― Stephanie Laurens, A Rake's Vow

“He'd finally found her alone and in the perfect location. The stillroom, tucked away on the ground floor of one wing, was private, and contained no daybed, chaise, or similar piece of furniture.
In his present state, that was just as well. A gentleman should not, after all, go too far with the lady he intended making his wife before informing her of that fact. The absence of any of the customary aids to seduction should make coming to the point easy, after which they could retire to some place of greater comfort, so he could be comfortable again.
The thought- of how he would ease the discomfort that had dogged him for the past days- wound his spring a notch tighter.”
― Stephanie Laurens, A Rake's Vow

“That kiss was a revelation- Patience had never imagined a simple kiss could be so bold, so heavily invested with meaning. His lips were hard; they moved over hers, parting them further, confidently managing her, ruthlessly teaching her all she was so eager to learn.
His tongue invaded her mouth with the arrogance of a conquerer claiming victory's spoils. Unhurriedly, he visited every corner of his domain, claiming every inch, branding it as his- knowing it. After a lengthy, devastatingly thorough inspection, he settled to sample her in a different way. The slow, languid thrusting seduced her willing senses.
She'd yielded, yet her passive surrender satisfied neither of them. Patience found herself drawn into the game- the slide of lips against lips, the sensual glide of hot tongue against tongue. She was more than willing. The promise in the heat rising, steadily building between them, and even more the tension- excitement and something more- that surged like a slow tide behind the warm glow, drew her on. The kiss stretched and time slowed- the drugging effect of shared breaths sent her wits to a slow spin.”
― Stephanie Laurens, A Rake's Vow

“He wanted her- all of her. Not just the physical her, but her devotion, her love, her heart- all the essential her, the tangible intangible of her being, her self. He wanted it all- and he wasn't going to be satisfied with anything less.
He knew why he wanted her, too. Why she was different. But he wasn't going to think about that.
She was his. He'd known it the instant he'd held her in his arms, that first evening with the storm lowering about them. She'd fitted- and he'd known, instinctively, immediately, at some level deeper than his bones. He hadn't come by his name by accident; he had a gift for recognizing what scent was on the breeze. An instinctive hunter, he responded to shifts in the mood, the atmosphere, taking advantage of whatever current was flowing without a conscious thought.
He'd known from the first just what was in the wind- known from the instant he'd held Patience Debbington in his arms.”
― Stephanie Laurens, A Rake's Vow

“If I'd made it to the back parlor, I'd have been safe."
Straightening, Vane met her gaze. "Safe from what? There's a daybed there, too."
Her gaze trapped in his, Patience tried hard not to let the likely outcomes take shape in her mind. Determinedly, she blotted out all thought of what might have transpired had Angela not arrived as she had. If she thought too much of that, she'd very likely throttle Angela, too. The ranks of her potential victims were growing by the hour.
"Anyway..." -Vane's gaze flicked to Angela and Mrs. Chadwick. He stooped slightly; Patience felt the tug as he worked the knotted scarf free- "you said you were bored." The knot gave, and he straightened. His lips curved, too knowingly. One brown brow arched, subtly wicked. "Isn't that what usually distracts ladies?"
He knew very well what ladies found most distracting- the look in his eyes, the sensual curve of his lips said as much, screamed as much.”
― Stephanie Laurens, A Rake's Vow

“I've grown sick of the upstairs parlor." The parlor he'd arranged for her. "I'm bored there."
Vane glanced at her as he juggled her to open the door. "Bored?"
Patience looked into his eyes and wished she'd used some other word. Bored was, apparently, a red rag to a rake. "It's not long to dinner, perhaps you should just take me to my room."
The door swung wide. Vane stepped through, then kicked it shut behind them. And smiled. "There's more than an hour before you need to change. I'll carry you to your room- later."
His eyes had narrowed, silvery with intent. His voice had changed to his dangerous purr. Patience wondered if any of the other three would have the courage to follow- she couldn't believe they would. Ever since Vane had so coldly annihilated their senseless accusations of Gerrard, both Edmond and Henry treated him with respect- the sort of respect accorded dangerous carnivores. And Penwick knew Vane disliked him- intensely.
Vane advanced on the daybed. Patience eyed it with increasing misgiving. "What do you think you're doing?"
"Tying you to the daybed."
She tried to humph, tried to ignore the premonition tickling her spine. "Don't be silly- you just said that as a threat." Would it be wise to wind her arms about his neck?
He reached the back of the bed, and stopped. "I never issue threats." His words floated down to her as she stared at the cushions. "Only warnings."
With that, he swung her over the wrought-iron back and set her down with her spine against it. Patience immediately squirmed, trying to twist around. One large palm, splayed across her midriff, kept her firmly in place.
"And then," Vane continued, in the same, dangerous tone, "we'll have to see what we can do to... distract you."
"Distract me?" Patience stopped her futile wriggling.
"Hmm." His words feathered her ear. "To alleviate your boredom.”
― Stephanie Laurens, A Rake's Vow

“His rake's smile returning, Vane stood and strolled toward her. "Speaking of performance, would you like me to carry you to lunch?"
She wouldn't- narrowing her eyes at him, Patience would have given half her fortune to avoid the sensation of being scooped so easily into his arms, and carried away so effortlessly. His touch was unnerving, distracting; it made her think of things she really should not. And as for the sensation of being helpless in his arms, trapped, at his mercy, a pawn to his whim- that was even worse.
Unfortunately, she had no choice. Cooly, inwardly girding her loins, she inclined her head. "If you would."
He grinned- and did.”
― Stephanie Laurens, A Rake's Vow

“She should, of course, feel scandalized, or at the very least, shocked. Yet whenever she allowed herself to recall all that had happened, sweet pleasure washed through her, leaving her skin tingling and her breasts deliciously warm. Her "shock" was exciting, thrilling, an enticing reaction, not one of revulsion. She should feel guilty, yet whatever guilt she possessed was swamped beneath a compulsion to know, to experience, and an intense recollection of how much she'd enjoyed that particular experience.
Lips firming, she set a stitch. Curiosity- it was her curse, her bane, the cross she had to bear. She knew it. Unfortunately, knowing didn't quell the impulse. This time, curiosity was prompting her to waltz with a wolf- a dangerous enterprise. For the last two days, she'd watched him, waiting for the pounce she'd convinced herself would come, but he'd behaved like a lamb- a ridiculously strong, impossibly arrogant, not to say masterful lamb, but with a guileless newborn innocence, as if a halo had settled over his burnished locks.”
― Stephanie Laurens, A Rake's Vow

“Vane strolled in. The smile on his face, curving those fascinating lips, was more than enough to make Patience inwardly swear that she would not, not for anything, give him the pleasure of knowing how flustered she felt. "What's the time?" Nonchalance laced her tones.
"Lunchtime," replied the wolf.
Feeling very like Red Riding Hood, Patience smothered a feigned yawn, then held up her arms and waved him closer. "You may carry me down then."
Vane's smile deepened. With elegant ease, he lifted her into his arms.”
― Stephanie Laurens, A Rake's Vow

“Gasping desperately, she clenched her hands on his shoulders, fingers sinking deep. His lips firmed, he suckled gently- Patience felt the earth quake. The heat of his mouth shocked her- the wet sweep of his tongue scalded her. She gave a strangled cry.
That sound, keenly feminine, acutely evocative, caught and focused Vane's attention. Focused every hunter's instinct. Desire heightened, need escalated. His demons turned frenzied- her siren's song lured them on. Urged him on. Compulsion swelled- tense, turbulent, powerful. Desire seethed hotly. He drew a ragged breath-
And remembered- all he'd nearly forgotten, all her wild responses had driven from his mind. This was one seduction he had to, need to, manage perfectly- this time, there was meaning beyond the act. Seducing Patience Debbington was too important to rush- conquering her senses, her body, was only the first step. He didn't want her just once- he wanted her for a lifetime.
Dragging in a shuddering breath, Vane caught hold of his reins and hauled his impulses up short. Something in him wailed with frustration. He shut his mind to the relentless pounding of his arousal.
And set himself to soothe hers.
He knew how. There were planes of warm desire on which women could float, neither driven, nor quiescent, but simply buoyed on a sea of pleasure. With hands and lips, mouth and tongue, he soothed her fever flesh, took the sting from her aches, the edge from her passion, and eased her into that pleasured sea.
Patience was beyond understanding- all she knew was the peace, the calm, the profound pleasure that welled and washed through her. Content, she flowed with the tide, letting her senses stretch. The whirling that had disoriented her slowed; her mind steadied.
Full consciousness, when it came, was no shock; the continuing touch of Vane's hands, the artful caress of his lips, his tongue, were familiar- no threat.”
― Stephanie Laurens, A Rake's Vow