Brianna Labuskes

“I’m far more interested in the beaux you have left mournful in your wake.” His fingers trapped one of the loose curls that bounced around her face, sliding the strands between the pads.
“They were legion. But they were all honorable gentlemen—unlike yourself, I may add.”
He gasped his faux outrage.“Are you saying my behavior is anything less than exemplary?”
She slid her gaze to the fingers that were still toying with her hair.
His free hand flew to his heart. She stifled a wholly unladylike giggle at his shocked and offended expression. “I demand satisfaction for this insult. Pistols at dawn,” he roared into the swaying carriage.
She wrinkled her brow. “I believe, as the challenged party, I get to choose the weapon.”
“A thousand apologies, my lady.” He cut a small bow in her direction. “Would you rather it be slow and tortuous?”
“I am not cruel,” she said loftily. “I can take mercy on you if you so humble yourself before me.”
“What if I like it slow and tortuous?” he murmured.”
― Brianna Labuskes, One Step Behind

“I do enjoy watching society at these parties. I only wish I did not have to be a part of it.”
“An observer of human nature,” he mused.
“As are you, my lord,” she said. “You do not see only what you are looking for. You see who people are. You saw through my ruse, after all.”
“It was obvious to the most casual observer that you were not what you appeared to be.” His grin was arrogant and peeved her a bit, even though she believed his words were meant to flatter her.
“No one else questioned it,” she reminded him. “What gave it away?”
“Your eyes,” he said. “You could never keep the humor from your eyes.”
― Brianna Labuskes, One Step Behind

“Gemma was buzzing by the time they arrived at Vauxhall. They had taken a boat across the river to get to the pleasure gardens, and she had never felt more exotic. She’d wanted to draw a lazy hand through the river, even though she knew that would not have been a smart idea.
But it wasn’t just the excitement of the adventure that was making her blood hum and her pulse skitter. It was him. She hadn’t even tried to deny it or justify it to herself. She just let her eyes have free rein over his features. Something pulsed deep within her when a lock of dark hair fell over his eyes. The feeling was so new to her that she could barely put a name to it. But in the quiet of the night she recognized it for what it was.
Desire.”
― Brianna Labuskes, One Step Behind