the anti-heroine of an era of bathtub gin, organized crime, and jazz, clouded in the smoke of fired guns and cigarettes.
Her scent, the provocatively innocent blend of chamomile soap and Woman, had whirled in his head, and he’d thought of pearly skin glimmering in the light of a single candle and long black hair tumbled upon a pillow… and himself wrapped in her clean, sweet womanliness, touching, tasting, drinking her in.

— Loretta Chase, Lord of Scoundrels


@темы: with serpents for arms the lovers are the hydra of the tale