Evie And Sebastian Quotes

“If your concern is that I may be overcome with manly ardor and ravish you in a moment of weakness…I may. If you ask nicely.”

Evie clamped her teeth on the sweet, pulpy grape and maneuvered the seeds out with her teeth and tongue. As he watched her mouth working on the fruit, Sebastian’s smile faded slightly, and he leaned back. “At the moment you’re too much of a novice to be worth the bother,” he continued coolly. “Perhaps I’ll seduce you in the future, after some other men have taken the trouble to educate you.”

“I doubt it,” she said sullenly. “I would never be so bourgeois as to sleep with my own husband.”

A catch of laughter escaped him. “My God. You must have been waiting for days to use that one. Congratulations, child. We haven’t yet been married a week, and you’re already learning how to fight.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil in Winter

“Evie touched the surface of Cam’s coat sleeve. “Is my father awake now?” she asked anxiously. “May I go up to see him?”
“Of course.” The Gypsy took both her hands in a light grip, the gold rings warmed by the liberal heat of his fingers. “I will see to it that no one interferes.”
“Thank you.” Suddenly Sebastian reached between them and plucked one of Evie’s hands away, pulling it decisively to his own arm. Though his manner was casual, the firm pressure of his fingers ensured that she would not try to pull away.
Puzzled by the display of possessiveness, Evie frowned. “I have known Cam since childhood,” she said pointedly. “He has always been quite kind to me.”
“A husband always likes to hear of kindnesses done for his wife,” Sebastian replied coolly. “Within limits, of course.”
“Of course,” Cam said softly.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil in Winter

“What is your objection to the clothes?” Sebastian asked, glancing at the gowns. “They’re black, aren’t they?”
“Well, yes, but they’re not made of crepe.”
“Do you want to wear crepe?”
“Of course not— no one does. But if people saw me wearing anything else, there would be terrible gossip.”
One of Sebastian’s brows arched. “Evie,” he said dryly, “you eloped against your family’s wishes, you married a notorious rake, and you’re living in a gaming club. How much more damned gossip do you think you could cause?”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil in Winter

“You’re beautiful, Evie,” came his soft comment.
Having been raised by relations who had always lamented the garish color of her hair and the proliferation of freckles, Evie gave him a skeptical smile. “Aunt Florence has always given me a bleaching lotion to make my freckles vanish. But there’s no getting rid of them.”
Sebastian smiled lazily as he came to her. Taking her shoulders in his hands, he slid an appraising glance along her half-clad body. “Don’t remove a single freckle, sweet. I found some in the most enchanting places. I already have my favorites… shall I tell you where they are?”
Disarmed and discomfited, Evie shook her head and made a movement to twist away from him. He wouldn’t let her, however. Pulling her closer, he bent his golden head and kissed the side of her neck. “Little spoilsport,” he whispered, smiling. “I’m going to tell you anyway.” His fingers closed around a handful of the chemise and eased the hem slowly upward. Her breath caught as she felt his fingers nuzzling tenderly between her bare legs. “As I discovered earlier,” he said against her sensitive throat, “there’s a trail inside your right thigh that leads to—”
A knock at the door interrupted them, and Sebastian lifted his head with a grumble of annoyance. “Breakfast,” he muttered. “And I wouldn’t care to make you choose between my lovemaking or a hot meal, as the answer would likely be unflattering.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil in Winter

“I-I just want to be safe from him. From all of them.”
Sebastian drew his head back to look down into her flushed face. “You are safe,” he said in a low voice. He lifted one of his hands to her face, caressing the plane of her cheekbone, letting his fingertip follow the trail of pale golden freckles across the bridge of her nose. As her lashes fluttered downward, he stroked the slender arcs of her brows, and cradled the side of her face in his palm. “Evie,” he murmured. “I swear on my life, you will never feel pain from my hands. I may prove a devil of a husband in every other regard… but I wouldn’t hurt you that way. You must believe that.”
The delicate nerves of her skin drank in sensations thirstily… his touch, the erotic waft of his breath against her lips. Evie was afraid to open her eyes, or to do anything that might interrupt the moment. “Yes,” she managed to whisper. “Yes… I—”
There was the sweet shock of a probing kiss against her lips… another… She opened to him with a slight gasp.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil in Winter

“You’re just going to throw the h-house wenches out into the streets?” she asked with forced calm.
“They’ll be dismissed with generous parting sums as a reward for their labors on the club’s behalf.”
“Do you intend to hire new ones?”
Sebastian shook his head. “While I have no moral aversion to the concept of prostitution— in fact, I’m all for it— I’m damned if I’ll become known as a pimp.”
“A what?”
“A pimp. A cock bawd. A male procurer. For God’s sake, did you have cotton wool stuffed in your ears as a child? Did you never hear anything, or wonder why badly dressed women were parading up and down the club staircase at all hours?”
“I always visited in the daytime,” Evie said with great dignity. “I rarely saw them working. And later, when I was old enough to understand what they were doing, my father began to curtail my visits.”
“That was probably one of the few kind things he ever did for you.” Sebastian waved away the subject impatiently. “Back to the subject at hand… not only do I not want the responsibility of maintaining mediocre whores, but we don’t have the room to accommodate them. On any given night, when all the beds are occupied, the club members are forced to take their pleasures out in the stables.”
“They are? They do?”
“And it’s damned scratchy and drafty in that stable. Take my word for it.”
“You—”
“However, there is an excellent brothel two streets over. I have every expectation that we can come to an arrangement with its proprietress, Madame Bradshaw. When one of our club members desires female companionship, he can walk to Bradshaw’s, receive their services at a discounted price, and return here when he’s refreshed.” He raised his brows significantly, as if he expected her to praise the idea. “What do you think?”
“I think you would still be a cock bawd,” Evie said. “Only by stealth.”
“Morality is only for the middle classes, sweet. The lower class can’t afford it, and the upper classes have entirely too much leisure time to fill.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil in Winter

“Spearing a quail egg with her fork, Evie popped it into her mouth. “What is to be done about Mr. Egan?”
His shoulders lifted in a graceful shrug. “As soon as he is sober enough to walk, he’ll be dismissed.”
Evie brushed away a stray lock of hair that had fallen over her cheek. “There is no one to replace him.”
“Yes, there is. Until a suitable manager can be found, I’ll run the club.”
The quail egg seemed to stick in her throat, and Evie choked a little. Hastily she reached for her wine, washed it down, and regarded him with bulging eyes. How could he say something so preposterous? “You can’t.”
“I can hardly do worse than Egan. He hasn’t managed a damned thing in months… before long, this place will be falling down around our ears.”
“You said you hated work!”
“So I did. But I feel that I should try it at least once, just to be certain.”
She began to stammer in her anxiety. “You’ll pl-play at this for a few days, and then you’ll tire of it.”
“I can’t afford to tire of it, my love. Although the club is still profitable, its value is in decline. Your father has a load of outstanding debt that must be settled. If the people who owe him can’t muster the cash, we’ll have to take property, jewelry, artwork… whatever they can manage. Having a good idea of the value of things, I can negotiate some acceptable settlements. And there are other problems I haven’t yet mentioned… Jenner has a string of failing Thoroughbreds that have lost a fortune at Newmarket. And he’s made some insane investments— ten thousand pounds he put into an alleged gold mine in Flintshire— a swindle that even a child should have seen through.”
“Oh God,” Evie murmured, rubbing her forehead. “He’s been ill— people have taken advantage—”
“Yes. And now, even if we wanted to sell the club, we couldn’t without first putting it in order. If there were an alternative, believe me, I would find it. But this place is a sieve, with no one who is capable or willing to stop the holes. Except for me.”
“You know nothing about filling holes!” she cried, appalled by his arrogance.
Sebastian responded with a bland smile and the slightest arch of one brow. Before he could open his mouth to reply, she clapped her hands over her ears. "Oh, don't say it, don't!" When she saw that he was obligingly holding his silence-though a devilish gleam remained in his eyes-she lowered her hands cautiously.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil in Winter

“Lifting a goblet of wine to her lips, Evie glanced at him over the rim as she drank. “What is in that ledger?”
“A lesson in creative record keeping. I’m sure you won’t be surprised to learn that Egan has been draining the club’s accounts. He shaves away increments here and there, in small enough quantities that the thefts have gone unnoticed. But over time, it totals up to a considerable sum. God knows how many years he’s been doing it. So far, every account book I’ve looked at contains deliberate inaccuracies.”
“How can you be certain that they’re deliberate?”
“There is a clear pattern.” He flipped open a ledger and nudged it over to her. “The club made a profit of approximately twenty thousand pounds last Tuesday. If you cross-check the numbers with the record of loans, bank deposits, and cash outlays, you’ll see the discrepancies.”
Evie followed the trail of his finger as he ran it along the notes he had made in the margin. “You see?” he murmured. “These are what the proper amounts should be. He’s padded the expenses liberally. The cost of ivory dice, for example. Even allowing for the fact that the dice are only used for one night and then never again, the annual charge should be no more than two thousand pounds, according to Rohan.” The practice of using fresh dice every night was standard for any gaming club, to ward off any question that they might be loaded.
“But here it says that almost three thousand pounds was spent on dice,” Evie murmured.
“Exactly.” Sebastian leaned back in his chair and smiled lazily. “I deceived my father the same way in my depraved youth, when he paid my monthly upkeep and I had need of more ready coin than he was willing to provide.”
“What did you need it for?” Evie could not resist asking.
The smile tarried on his lips. “I’m afraid the explanation would require a host of words to which you would take strong exception.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil in Winter

“Are you still fixed on the notion of staying here?” he asked, deftly carving a peach and divesting it of the pit. He handed her a neat golden half.
“Oh yes.” Evie accepted the peach and took a bite, its tart juice trickling over her tongue.
“I was afraid you might say that,” he replied dryly. “It’s a mistake, you know. You have no idea of what you’ll be exposed to… the obscenities and lewd comments, the lecherous gazes, the groping and pinching… and that’s just at my house. Imagine what it would be like here.”
Uncertain whether to frown or smile, Evie regarded him curiously. “I will manage,” she said.
“I’m sure you will, pet.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil in Winter

“As the four young women proceeded to a hallway leading toward the morning room, they encountered Lord St. Vincent, who was strolling in the opposite direction.
Elegant and dazzling in his formal clothes, he paused and regarded Evie with a caressing smile. “You appear to be escaping from something,” he remarked.
“We are,” Evie told her husband.
St. Vincent slid his arm around Evie’s waist and asked in a conspiratorial whisper, “Where are you going?”
Evie thought for a moment. “Somewhere to powder Daisy’s nose.”
The viscount gave Daisy a dubious glance. “It takes all four of you? But it’s such a little nose.”
“We’ll only be a few minutes, my lord,” Evie said. “Will you make excuses for us?”
St. Vincent laughed gently. “I have an endless supply, my love,” he assured her.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Scandal in Spring