The Virgin of Clan Sinclair Quotes

“She'd dreamed of him. Her imagination, unfettered in her sleep, had featured him. He'd been gloriously naked and her hands had explored the whole of him, delighted to discover that the handsome man was even more magnificent without clothes.
Drumvagen might be set into the Scottish wilderness, but what furnished her with a great deal of knowledge she otherwise might not have had. She listened to the maids discussing their love lives with a frankness they never would have had they known she was eavesdropping. Then, there was the sight of the handsome Scots lads bathing in the sea.
The books she read from Mairi's library had strengthened her imagination, adding details otherwise missing from her personal experience.”
― Karen Ranney, The Virgin of Clan Sinclair

“The morning sun danced on her hair, transforming the brown to gold and reddish glints. An errant sunbeam angled over her face, dusting her long lashes with light, accentuating the perfection of her nose, her cheekbones, and the beauty of her complexion.”
― Karen Ranney, The Virgin of Clan Sinclair

“You will treat me with respect."
He didn't say anything for a moment.
"What does that mean?" he finally asked.
She looked over at him. "Do I need to explain that, your lordship? I would think an earl of your reputed stature would know the meaning of respect.”
― Karen Ranney, The Virgin of Clan Sinclair

“A storm in Scotland was like nothing she'd ever experienced in London. Here, the elements felt alive, sentient. This storm was a raging monster that had grown in fury since yesterday.
Sometimes, she thought Scotland was more than a country, more than a rough and magnificent land with a border created by men, written on a map, and defended for hundreds of years. Scotland was almost a living creature that could turn and bite your hand if you didn't speak about it in fond and loving tones.
When she walked the hills and glens surrounding Drumvagen, she sometimes felt like she was being watched. Not by living inhabitants, but those who'd gone before, proud men and women who hated the English and now hovered over their land to protest her appearance.
For all her imagination, she didn't believe in the hundreds of folktales Brianag told the children. The trees weren't alive; they were simply trees. Brownies didn't do chores for obedient children. Sea creatures in the shape of horses didn't bedevil the coast.
Yet something about this storm was otherworldly, as if God were punishing them.”
― Karen Ranney, The Virgin of Clan Sinclair

“There’s no scandal involved,” she said airily. “I have no connection with you whatsoever. I have nothing to do with you. You are a thimble filled with water next to my ocean. You are a grain of sand to my beach. You are a tiny star in the sky. You’re nothing to me.”
― Karen Ranney, The Virgin of Clan Sinclair

“What kind of love do you want?" he asked gently.
"Once I might have said like Donald and Lady Pamela. But they're imaginary. I want you to adore me like Macrath adores Virginia. Like Logan adores Mairi. I want to make your life better for being in it."
He came to her, bent his head until his lips were against her temple. "You've changed me, Ellice. You've made me whole. I won't live my life without you."
He rested his forehead against hers.
" 'Life has no meaning without you in it. Without the glory of the dawn in the shine of your hair. Without the blue of the skies in your eyes.' "
"I wrote that," she said, pulling back. "I was a bit overblown there, wasn't I?"
He smiled down at her. "Not at all. Donald is a man in love. Men in love say things that sound a bit overblown to anyone else."
"Do they?"
He nodded again. "Things like your eyes are as soft as velvet sometimes. And sometimes as hard as stone. I can always gauge your mood by how your eyes sparkle or if they don't. If you're amused or sad or a dozen other emotions. The rest of your face can be perfectly still, but you can't hide your eyes.”
― Karen Ranney, The Virgin of Clan Sinclair

“I will not be spoken to in that tone," she said to her mother.
Enid's mouth gaped open. For only a moment, however, until she began to protest.
"You've gotten snippy since your marriage, haven't you? I'll not take that behavior from you, child. Your sister would never have disrespected me in such a fashion."
"Enough!" Ellice held up her hand, her gaze never once leaving her mother.
"When have you ever respected me, Mother? I'm only a poor substitute for Eudora." She took a deep breath. "I'm not Eudora," she said. "I'm not your beloved daughter who died. I'm the one who lived. I'm tired of hearing about what my sister did or would have done. I suspect that Eudora would have silenced you long before now."
She grabbed her skirts and walked around her mother, heading for the kitchen. At the door, she stopped and turned.
"Must I die before you begin to value me as well?”
― Karen Ranney, The Virgin of Clan Sinclair

“The room smelled of lemon wax and the perfume she wore, something delicate and unassuming, not truly mirroring the complex woman she was. She would wear something hinting of roses, or more exotic blooms, a scent that teased the senses.
She hated the mirrors, so he had them removed. He found another desk in the attics, one more suited for a study, but she'd been overjoyed when first viewing it. There was enough space in the sitting room, and that's where it rested, beneath the window looking out over Huntly's glen.
He wished this view of the lake. She would have liked the sight of the birds soaring over the trees or the pale light of dawn reflected in the water.”
― Karen Ranney, The Virgin of Clan Sinclair

“The world was a glorious place this morning. The birds were particularly noisy in their greeting to the day. The sky was a cloudless blue, the color of delphiniums.
He'd never before equated the color of the sky to a flower.
This morning he would show Ellice some of the rare volumes in the Forster collection. He hoped she would be impressed at the illuminated scrolls or the Bible he suspected was one of the first Gutenberg volumes. Would she be interested in the Latin poetry he'd found? One of his ancestors had evidently collected erotic poetry.”
― Karen Ranney, The Virgin of Clan Sinclair

“Do you like sandwiches?" he asked.
"At this point, I think I'd eat anything. Other than rabbit. I'm not excessively fond of rabbit."
"Or anything with eyes," he said, charming her by remembering. "I've an appetite for beef, some bread, mustard, and ale."
At her look, he smiled. "I have a schoolboy's tastes. It's what I lived on in England. I still crave it from time to time."
Hustle's staff must have been prepared for his cravings because within a quarter hour they were seated in his sitting room with a large tray on the table between them. She was dressed in one of his blue dressing gowns and he wore a black patterned one.
She tucked her feet beneath her as, one by one, he took the domed lids from a succession of plates, each smelling better than the one before. When he came to the cake, a delicious looking confection filled with nuts and fruit, she glanced up at him.
"I want cake," she said. "Before anything healthful or beneficial."
"Cake it is, then," he said, cutting a piece and handing it to her.
She closed her eyes after the first forkful. The taste was heavenly, light and airy yet filled with nuts and chopped apricots.
When she opened her eyes, it was to find him watching her.
"I love cake," she said, embarrassed. "I love sweets."
"What about rabbit cake?"
"Oh, that would pose a problem for me."
He smiled and she felt it down to her toes.”
― Karen Ranney, The Virgin of Clan Sinclair

“My eyes are brown and my hair is brown."
"Your eyes are the color of warm chocolate," he said, tilting his head to study her. "Your hair isn't brown, but auburn with gold and red threads in it like the finest tapestry.”
― Karen Ranney, The Virgin of Clan Sinclair

“When the smell of her perfume, something that reminded him of faint spicy blossoms and spring, wasn't wreathed in a cloud around him.
Maybe it was magic. Was she one of the creatures from the many Scottish tales his nurse had told him as a child?”
― Karen Ranney, The Virgin of Clan Sinclair

“She bit her lips, concentrating, wishing he'd go and sit on one of the chairs before the fireplace. Or stand at the window and watch the full moon. Anything but sit there so close she could smell the sandalwood soap he used.
Night had brought a shadow of a beard to his face. He no longer looked every inch the earl, but more a coach robber, someone who would march her out to the glen and kiss her until she fell to her knees.
He would show no mercy to her. Instead, he would make her beg.”
― Karen Ranney, The Virgin of Clan Sinclair

“Love is like lightning. You never see it coming. If it strikes you, you know it instantly and it will forever leave its mark.”
― Karen Ranney, The Virgin of Clan Sinclair

“What is being a Scot like?" Ellice heard her mother ask.
'Oh, no.'
"A certain independence of spirit,"she answered before the men could. Or before the girl serving the venison could hear, take notes about Enid's snide remarks, and carry them to Brianag.
"An ability to carry on despite circumstances," she continued. "Perhaps a belief in otherworldly phenomena."
"Do you think we all believe in ghosts?" Gadsden asked.
She glanced at him. Now was not the time to recall the feeling of her breasts pressing against his chest, of his fingers on her skin, his lips trailing kisses along her throat.
Or her earlier image of him unveiling her, inch by inch.
Her cheeks warmed.
"Do you believe in ghosts?" she asked him.
"Not the incorporeal ones," he said. "Only those of memory and mind."
"Are you a haunted man?"
He didn't answer her, merely sat there, his gaze steady on her. To her surprise neither her mother nor Macrath said a word. Or perhaps they did and she didn't hear anything.
She was caught by his gray eyes, snared and netted until she could almost imagine she was at his feet, head bowed, swearing allegiance to him.
He'd raise her up with both hands on her arms until she stood before him, clad only in her gauzy tunic. A slave brought to the man who declared himself her master.”
― Karen Ranney, The Virgin of Clan Sinclair

“What were her abilities? She played the pianoforte passably well even though it didn't interest her. She loved to read and could spend the rest of her life in a library. She'd written a book, and her imagination was such that she could transport herself from the wilds of Scotland to anywhere.”
― Karen Ranney, The Virgin of Clan Sinclair

“Why should she listen to a litany of her flaws when she knew them all so well? She never stood up straight. She always looked down at the ground when she walked. She jutted out her elbows and didn't stand with grace. She never backed up until she felt the chair behind her and then gracefully sank to the cushion like a feather. Instead, she sat like a stone falling to the ground.
When she did laugh, it normally ended in an unladylike snort. She cried much too often when touched by a scene, a flower, a sunset.”
― Karen Ranney, The Virgin of Clan Sinclair

“He shouldn't be captivated by the sight of a tear caught on her lashes, or her perfect nose, slightly pink. Those lips were even more intriguing, so he made himself look away, staring out at the forest beyond the gazebo.
He glanced down to find Ellice still looking up at him, her eyes liquid pools of chocolate.
Their gaze caught and held, the seconds ticking by in solemn regularity. He felt drawn to her like a magnet. Pulling away would be a difficult task.
He must for his own safety. This woman with her guileless eyes, soft heart, and lurid imagination was a danger.”
― Karen Ranney, The Virgin of Clan Sinclair

“She laughed. He was right. Her laughter was enchanting. So, too, the sparkle in her eyes as she glanced at him. He'd never seen eyes as darkly brown as hers. With her dark hair she should have been a study in monochrome, but she wasn't. Her cheeks matched her pink lips.”
― Karen Ranney, The Virgin of Clan Sinclair

“His breath halted as he stared at her. Why hadn't he seen it before? The woman in his carriage, the one who'd emerged from his carriage like a Botticelli Venus, was beautiful.
Not in the way Cassandra had been beautiful, with glittering eyes and full, red lips. Cassandra's blond beauty might have faded in time, become handsomeness instead.
This woman's beauty was simple; well-defined cheekbones, a high forehead, slender nose, and stubborn chin. As the years passed she might grow even more attractive.
He suspected that her laugh would captivate, just as her tears would act like a razor to whomever brought them forth. Her smile had already charmed him, and now her silence incited his curiosity. Not about who she was and why she was here, but about more.
Who was the woman behind the smile?”
― Karen Ranney, The Virgin of Clan Sinclair

“The female in his carriage didn't say a word, merely turned and stare at him with doelike brown eyes.
Was she too afraid to speak?”
― Karen Ranney, The Virgin of Clan Sinclair

“Just when she thought she could feel nothing more, he began to increase his pace, strokes that pushed her over the edge.
The storm swallowed her screams of pleasure.
She heard his exultant laughter as she jerked her hands free, gripped his buttocks and pulled him to her, riding out her climax with his.”
― Karen Ranney, The Virgin of Clan Sinclair

“This time he surged into her, until the hair of his groin mingled with hers.
She groaned softly.
When her eyes opened, he asked, "Was that painful?"
She shook her head. "Not at all. It felt very nice."
Well, hell. Nice was not a word he would use to describe what he was feeling. The top of his head was about to blow off.
He paid more attention to her breasts, cupping one while he gently suckled the other. Then he kissed her again, thumbing her nipples, keeping up the stroking rhythm. Her breathing was keeping time. Each time he surged within her, she would gasp. Each time he withdrew, she made a strangle little sound and her hands gripped his arms tighter.
"Is it nice?" he asked against her ear.
"Yes," she said, but that one word seemed to cause her a great deal of trouble.
"How nice?"
She groaned when he began to move a little faster. If he were truly blessed he'd be able to bring her to satisfaction before his own.
But it would be a tight race.
"Oh, Ross."
"Very nice?"
She made a noise in the back of her throat.
She pulled her mouth away from his, her eyes flying open.
"Ross, oh, Ross."
In the next instant, she wrapped her legs around him and raised her hips. Her whole body trembled, her channel gripping him, milking him until he had no choice but to surrender.”
― Karen Ranney, The Virgin of Clan Sinclair

“She wanted to be away, leaving her suite, Drumvagen, and all of its inhabitants behind.
Mostly, she wanted to be away from who she was. She wanted to be someone more courageous, like Mairi. Mairi didn't chafe under the role circumstance had given her. Instead, she molded life to fit her, like Lady Pamela.
Nor was Mairi the only courageous person she knew. Everyone at Drumvagen was strong-willed and memorable: from Virginia, who had challenged society's rules, to Macrath, who created an empire from an idea, to her mother and Brianag.
She was the only one people ignored. 'Oh, yes, Ellice,' people probably said, wrinkling their brows to summon an image of her.
Poor dear girl, she's Enid's daughter, correct? Pity the other one didn't survive. Heard she was a beauty, but this girl?
Brown hair and brown eyes and a completely malleable nature, they would say, describing her. Once, she'd been endlessly chastised for speaking out of turn, for saying what she thought. Years of being castigated had taught her to keep silent.”
― Karen Ranney, The Virgin of Clan Sinclair

“She threw open the window to breathe in the spring air, heavy with the sweet perfume of roses and heather. To her right was the rolling glen beckoning her to come and walk. 'Sit here awhile and dream your thoughts on this flat rock.' How often had she done that?”
― Karen Ranney, The Virgin of Clan Sinclair