Quinn Quotes

You always get more respect when you don't have a happy ending.

But nothing makes a room feel emptier than wanting someone in it.

She hated that she was still so desperate for a glimpse of him, but it had been this way for years.

Love's about finding the one person who makes your heart complete. Who makes you a better person than you ever dreamed you could be. Its about looking in the eyes of your wife and knowing all the way to your bones that she's simply the best person you've ever known.

When you say gorgeous,” Jen started, “are we talking Brad Pitt boyish good looks, or Johnny Depp make ya want to slap somebody?” “No, we’re talking Brad and Johnny need to bow down and recognize” Jacque answered.

I love you with everything I am, everything I've been, and everything I hope to be. I love you with my past, and I love you for my future. I love you for the children we'll have and for the years we'll have together. I love you for every one of my smiles and even more, for every one of your smiles.

She hit him. Hard. Right in the face… “Holy shit,” said Quinn. “Would it be wrong if I applaud?

Colin decided then and there that the female mind was a strange and incomprehensible organ - one which no man should even attempt to understand. There wasn't a woman alive who could go from point A to B without stopping at C, D, X, and 12 along the way.

Men are sheep. Where one goes, the rest will soon follow. -Lady Whistledown

To say that men can be bullheaded would be insulting to the bull.

I have loved you every single second of every day since the moment I laid eyes on you. I love you more now than I did the day I married you. I love you, Quinn. I fucking love you!

We do need a system, and we do need you and your 'Bertos, and sometimes we need Sam to just come along and kick some ass. - Quinn

James - "Are you paying attention or just trying to make me look like an idoit?" Elizabeth - "Oh, I'm definately paying attention. If you look like an idiot it has nothing to do with me.

Logan Quinn was the kind of guy who could stab me in the eye with a freaking Twizzler.

Ha," I said. "Oh, ha-ha. Yeah, ’cause they love me. You see how many vampires are up here? Zero, right?" One," said Eric, stepping out of the stairwell.

Suddenly it was too hard to be in his presence, too painful to know that he would belong to someone else.

Kiss me, k-k-kiss me, infect me with your love, and fill me with your poison, take me, t-t-take me, wanna be your victim, ready for abduction boy, you're a werewolf, your touch is so furry, its supernatural, extra-werewolf-iestrial," Jen sung as loud as she could.

I can imagine no greater bliss than to lie about, reading novels all day.

There is no one right way to live.

Alright then, I guess that’s settled,” Lilly said, then she turned to Fane, “Lay a paw on my little girl and you will be a three legged Lassie, got it?” Fane winced and then asked, “You both do realize I’m a wolf not a dog right?

Jennifer, you have to wake up and ride me

Anthony sneezed and pushed them aside. "Mother, I am trying to have a conversation with the duke." Violet looked at Simon. "Do you want to have this conversation with my son?" "Not particularly." "Fine, then. Anthony, be quiet.

You have to live each hour as if it's your last and each day as if you were immortal. - Kate Sheffield

Where's Lucy?" I asked the others. "At the farmhouse," Nicholas said with grim satisfaction. "How'd you manage that?" "She's in a closet." Solange rolled her eyes. I stared at Nicholas. "You locked your girlfriend in a closet? Smooth." "She's going to eviscerate him," Quinn said cheerfully.

She'd met Colin on a Monday. She'd kissed him on a Friday. Twelve years later. She sighed. It seemed fairly pathetic.

I can't imagine a romance novel published today where the hero rapes the heroine and she falls in love with him.

Before she knew what she was about, she was jumping about like a crazy woman, yelling, “Yes! Yes! I win!” “You don’t win,” Anthony snapped. “Oh, it feels like I’ve won,” she reveled.

His mouth captured hers, trying to show her with his kiss what he was still learning to express in words. He loved her. He worshipped her. He'd walk across fire for her. He— —still had the audience of her three brothers. Slowly breaking the kiss, he turned his face to the side. Anthony, Benedict, and Colin were still standing in the foyer. Anthony was studying the ceiling, Benedict was pretending to inspect his fingernails, and Colin was staring quite shamelessly.

Where is he? Bridgerton!" he bellowed. Three chestnut heads swiveled in his direction. Simon stomped across the grass, murder in his eyes. "I meant the idiot Bridgerton." "That, I believe," Anthony said mildly, tilting his chin toward Colin, "would refer to you.

I have amazing news for you. Man is not alone on this planet. He is part of a community, upon which he depends absolutely.

Only you would reduce centuries of the mythical undead to ‘fangy. ’ ” (Quinn to Lucy)

Rhage stepped out in front of him (JM), "Hey, hi! How are you?" Hollywood stuck his hand out. "I'd like to introduce myself. I'm the piece of meat that's going to force you headfirst into your buddy Quinn's Hummer as soon as it gets here. Just figured I'd introduced myself before I rope your ass and throw you over my shoulder like a bag of sand.

What did you expect? That he'd send you flowers and write you bad poetry? That dead Nemean prowler is pretty much as close to a stuffed animal as you're ever going to get from a Spartan like Logan Quinn.

And if you say that's because you lot barged into her home like a herd of mentally deficient sheep, I'm disowning all three of you.

A man with charm is an entertaining thing, and a man with looks is, ofcourse, a sight to behold, but a man with honor - ah, he is the one, dear reader, to which young ladies should flock.

But why? Why do you need prophets to tell you how you ought to live? Why do you need anyone to tell you how you ought to live

Where is Nicholas?” Kieran asked. “He’s locked in a closet,” Lucy said with grim satisfaction. After a moment of stunned silence, Quinn snorted out a laugh. “You locked your boyfriend in a closet?” I asked. “Cool,” Chloe approved. The rhinestones on her earrings caught the blue lantern light. Lucy shrugged. “Serves him right. He locked me in there last week." "Chapter 11

Sam was slow getting up. To Quinn he looked like an old man standing up after slipping on the ice. But he looked up at Quinn and performed a sort of salute. I owe you, Quinn." I'm sorry I didn't get him," Quinn answered. Sam shook his head. "Man, don't ever be sorry you don't want to kill someone.

She had been born for this man, and she had spent so many years trying to accept the fact that he had been born for someone else...

Did you say ‘yes’ to going out on a date with him?” Sally asked Jacque. “All I got to say is if she said no, she might not want to go to sleep tonight ‘cause I’m going to dye her hair blonde to compliment her being a dumb ass,” Jen told them. “Uh, Jen, you’re a blonde,” Jacque pointed out. “No, not really, God just got it wrong and it was too late to change it once He noticed.

It suddenly made sense. Only twice in his life had he felt this inexplicable, almost mystical attraction to a woman. He’d thought it remarkable, to have found two, when in his heart he’d always believed there was only one perfect woman out there for him. His heart had been right. There was only one.

Deep inside, she knew who she was, and that person was smart and kind and often even funny, but somehow her personality always got lost somewhere between her heart and her mouth, and she found herself saying the wrong thing or, more often, nothing at all.

Do I look like a mess?” she asked. He nodded. “But you’re my mess,” he whispered.

You don't always have to kiss a lot of frogs to recognize a prince when you find one -Henrietta Barett

In every life there is a turning point. A moment so tremendous, so sharp and clear that one feels as if one's been hit in the chest, all the breath knocked out, and one knows, absolutely knows without the merest hint of a shadow of a doubt that one's life will never be the same.

I miss you, Quinn. So much. You're right here, but you aren't. I don't know where you went or when you left, but I have no idea how to bring you back. I am so alone. We live together. We eat together. We sleep together. But I have never felt more alone in my entire life.

There were rules among friends, commandments, really, and the most important one was Thou Shalt Not Lust After Thy Friend's Sister.

The premise of the Taker story is 'the world belongs to man'. … The premise of the Leaver story is 'man belongs to the world'.

It's the idea that people living close to nature tend to be noble. It's seeing all those sunsets that does it. You can't watch a sunset and then go off and set fire to your neighbor's tepee. Living close to nature is wonderful for your mental health.

No one knows as well as I how much nonsense is printed in books.

Do all of you think we have fleas?" Decebel asked as he looked at Jen and Sally. "I think we just make an assumption because of the hair and what not, that you, ya know, might have a problem with the little buggers when you in your wolf form.

Ugh, I swear I'd rather stab myself in the eye with a spoon repeatedly than be nice to some idiot, which means pretty much anyone I come in contact with. Damn, I'd be stabbing my eye a lot.

Men. The day they learned to admit to a mistake was the day they became women.

Anthony looked down at his evil clutches -- hands, he reminded himself, hands -- and grinned anew.

So, so we have to beat it out of you or are you going to confess willingly, 'cause you know I'm into the whole torture thing. It's how I roll.

I have to tell you it was the first time even after all these years of expecting my own death that i truly knew what it meant to die because with you gone there was nothing left for me to live for.

Everyone in your culture knows this. Man was born to turn the world into paradise, but tragically he was born flawed. And so his paradise has always been spoiled by stupidty, greed, destructiveness, and shortsightedness.

She gets a man who will love her completely and faithfully. She gets a man who will not only save her life, but lay down his own to keep her safe. He will provide for her no matter the cost, he will shelter her against all storms that come their way, he will be the one to bring a smile to her face when no one else can. She gets a friend, a lover, a mate, the only man in this world who can complete her and give her the other half of her soul.

Decebel turned and growled, "One of these days your mouth is going to write a check that your cute little ass can't cash." Decebel thought this would render her speechless but he should have known better. "Oh, don't worry fur ball, I plan to be writing that check out in your name.

If the world is saved, it will not be saved by old minds with new programs but by new minds with no programs at all.

In three days," he continued, "I will be your husband. I will take a solemn vow to protect you until death do us part. Do you understand what that means?" "You'll save me from marauding minotaurs?

Death was in his eyes and hell would follow.

Thinkers aren't limited by what they know, because they can always increase what they know. Rather they're limited by what puzzles them, because there's no way to become curious about something that doesn't puzzle you.

Jennifer," Decebel growled. "Decebel," Jen growled back, mimicking his tone. "Sally," Sally added comically, mimicking them both. She slapped a hand over her mouth when Decebel turned and glared at her.

And, she was able to tell herself with some satisfaction, the man in question - one Colin Bridgerton - felt precisely the same way.... ....His earth shook, his heart leaped, and Penelope knew without a doubt that his breath was taken away as well. For a good ten seconds. Falling off a horse tended to do that to a man.

Keep calm and don't forget the whipped cream.

When he turned back around, his characteristic smart-ass smile was back in place. "Your wish is my command, prince of mine." Don't call me that. "How about good ol'-fashioned 'master'?" When John just glared over his shoulder, Quinn shrugged. "Fine. I'll go with fathead then. But that's your damage, I gave you options." [John & Qhuinn]

Weakness never got anyone anywhere.

There's nothing fundamentally wrong with people. Given a story to enact that puts them in accord with the world, they will live in accord with the world. But given a story to enact that puts them at odds with the world, as yours does, they will live at odds with the world. Given a story to enact in which they are the lords of the world, they will ACT like lords of the world. And, given a story to enact in which the world is a foe to be conquered, they will conquer it like a foe, and one day, inevitably, their foe will lie bleeding to death at their feet, as the world is now.

Don’t think I won’t know if you’re lying, I know how many bases you’ve been on, you red headed puritan. I will be able to tell fact from fiction.

In her heart she longed for this man, dreamed of a life that could never be.

My mother is convinced that yellow is a happy color and that a happy girl would get a husband. -Penelope Featherington

Sometimes Hen...I think I would give my life just for one of your smiles.

We're not destroying the world because we're clumsy. We're destroying the world because we are, in a very literal and deliberate way, at war with it.

Enough, Qhuinn thought. Enough with the excuses and the avoidance, and trying to be someone else, anyone else. Even if he got shanked, even if his precious little ego and his dumbass little heart got shattered into a million pieces, it was time to stop the bullshit. It was time to be a male. As Blay started to straighten like a message had been received, Qhuinn thought, That's right buddy: Our future has come

A duel, a duel, a duel. Is there anything more exciting, more romantic ... or more utterly moronic?

What did it matter if something scared you, when it simply had to be done?

Lay it on me" "I was trying to. Geez, woman, make up your mind," Fane hold her, eyes glowing. She threw one hand up to hold him off. "I meant your idea, fur ball, not your delectable body.

If you find yourself suddenly mated to a werewolf, whatever you do, don't panic. Simply turn to Jen for assistance and she will give you a cool acronym to call him…because that's just so important.

Anthony Bridgerton leaned back in his leather chair,and then announced, "I'm thinking about getting married." Benedict Bridgerton, who had been indulging in a habit his mother detested—tipping his chair drunkenly on the back two legs—fell over. Colin Bridgerton started to choke. Luckily for Colin, Benedict regained his seat with enough time to smack him soundly on the back, sending a green olive sailing across the table. It narrowly missed Anthony's ear.

I am asking you to marry me because I love you,” he said, “because I cannot imagine living my life without you. I want to see your face in the morning, and then at night, and a hundred times in between. I want to grow old with you, I want to laugh with you, and I want to sigh to my friends about how managing you are, all the while secretly knowing I am the luckiest man in town.” “What?” she demanded. He shrugged. “A man’s got to keep up appearances. I’ll be universally detested if everyone realizes how perfect you are.

He gave her a sly, sideways look. "Did you bring it?" "My list? Heavens, no. What can you be thinking?" His smile widened. "I brought mine." Daphne gasped. "You didn't!" "I did. Just to torture Mother. I'm going peruse it right in front of her, pull out my quizzing glass—" "You don't have a quizzing glass." He grinned—the slow, devastatingly wicked smile that all Bridgerton males seemed to possess. "I bought one just for this occasion." "Anthony, you absolutely cannot. She will kill you. And then, somehow, she'll find a way to blame me." "I'm counting on it.

He murmured her name, tenderly taking her face in his hands. “I love you,” he said, his voice low and fervent. “I love you with everything I am, everything I’ve been, and everything I hope to be.” “I love you with my past, and I love you for my future.” He bent forward and kissed her, once, softly, on the lips. “I love you for the children we’ll have and for the years we’ll have together. I love you for every one of my smiles, and even more, for every one of your smiles.

So let me get this straight.”... “He threw the note at Tommy and then told him to fuck off? Or do I have it backwards?” “I’m detecting some sarcasm.” “And then got himself sent the principal’s office because he was ready to defend your honor?” “Quinn.” “Her friend waved a hand. “No, I think you might be on to something. This is clearly an elaborate plot to screw with you. He asks you out, he defends you from that meathead—what next?” Quinn’s eyes flashed wide in mock surprise. “Crap, Bex, do you think he will do something truly horrible like buy you flowers?

Miss Butterworth and the Mad Baron,” Sebastian said approvingly. “Excellent choice.” “You have read this?” Alexei asked. “It’s not as good as Miss Davenport and the Dark Marquis, of course, but worlds better than Miss Sainsbury and the Mysterious Colonel.” Harry found himself rendered speechless. “I’m reading Miss Truesdale and the Silent Gentleman right now.” “Silent?” Harry echoed. “There is a noticeable lack of dialogue,” Sebastian confirmed.

His mate is the light that keeps that darkness at bay. She fills the hole that has been growing ever larger in his soul. When the bond is completed between mates, their very souls merge and the male will be able to leash the darker part of his nature and at last be at peace with his wolf.

Ok, let me just write that down for you since you seem to think I'm you personal assistant," Sally responded, her tone clipped. "You ever noticed how assistant starts with ass? Do you think that's a coincidence?" Jen shrugged her shoulders as she raised her eyebrows at Sally.

Listen to me,” he said, his voice even and intense, “and listen well, because I’m only going to say this once. I desire you. I burn for you. I can’t sleep at night for wanting you. Even when I didn’t like you, I lusted for you. It’s the most maddening, beguiling, damnable thing, but there it is. And if I hear one more word of nonsense from your lips, I’m going to have to tie you to the bloody bed and have my way with you a hundred different ways, until you finally get it through your silly skull that you are the most beautiful and desirable woman in England, and if everyone else doesn’t see that, then they’re all bloody fools.

Mother,” Hyacinth said, pausing for slightly longer than normal to steal a bit of time to organize her thoughts, “I am not going to chase after Mr. St. Clair. He’s not at all the right sort of man for me.” “I’m not certain you’d know the right sort of man for you if he arrived on our doorstep riding an elephant.” “I would think the elephant would be a fairly good indication that I ought to look elsewhere.

You're so hypno-something, could you be the devil, could you be an angel, your touch is something good, feels like going floating, leave my body glowing." "Katy Perry? She's singing Katy Perry in the hospital bathroom. Just when you think you've seen it all," Sally mumbled. She knocked on the door again. Still no answer, so she started banging. Then she was banging and hollering, "JEN! OPEN THE FREAKING DOOR!" Wouldn't you know, she just sang louder. Why am I not surprised, she thought.

I trudged back to my bedroom and pushed the door open, intending to wash my face or brush my teeth or make some stab at smoothing my hair, because I thought it might make me feel a little less trampled. Eric was sitting on my bed, his face buried in his hands. He looked up at me as I entered, and he looked shocked. Well, no wonder, what with the very thorough takeover and traumatic changing of the guard. Sitting here on your bed, smelling your scent,” he said in a voice so low I had to strain to hear it. Sookie . . . I remember everything.” Oh, hell,” I said, and went in the bathroom and shut the door. I brushed my hair and my teeth and scrubbed my face, but I had to come out. I was being as cowardly as Quinn if I didn’t face the vampire. Eric started talking the minute I emerged. “I can’t believe I—” Yeah, yeah, I know, loved a mere human, made all those promises, was as sweet as pie and wanted to stay with me forever,” I muttered. Surely there was a shortcut we could take through this scene. I can’t believe I felt something so strongly and was so happy for the first time in hundreds of years,” Eric said with some dignity. “Give me some credit for that, too.

Well,” he said with an affected sigh, “you have my approval, at least.” “Why?” Hyacinth asked suspiciously. “It would be an excellent match,” he continued. “If nothing else, think of the children.” She knew she’d regret it, but still she had to ask. “What children?” He grinned. “The lovely lithping children you could have together. Garethhhh and Hyathinthhhh. Hyathinth and Gareth. And the thublime Thinclair tots.” Hyacinth stared at him like he was an idiot. Which he was, she was quite certain of it. She shook her head. “How on earth Mother managed to give birth to seven perfectly normal children and one freak is beyond me." "Thith way to the nurthery.” Gregory laughed as she headed back into the room. “With the thcrumptious little Tharah and Thamuel Thinclair. Oh, yeth, and don’t forget wee little Thuthannah!

Once you learn to discern the voice of Mother Culture humming in the background, telling her story over and over again to the people of your culture, you’ll never stop being conscious of it. Wherever you go for the rest of your life, you’ll be tempted to say to the people around you, “how can you listen to this stuff and not recognize it for what it is?

Felicity," Mrs. Featherington interurupted, "why don't you tell Mr. Brdgerton about your watercolors?" For the life of him, Colin couldn't imagine a less interesting topic (except maybe for Phillipa's watercolors), but he nonetheless turned to the youngest Featherington with a friendly smile and asked, "And how are your watercolors?" But Felicity, bless her heart, gave him a rather friendly smile herself and said nothing but, "I imagine they're fine, thank you.

Jen rolled her eyes and let out a huff of air. "You got the knocking part right, fluffy, but you forgot the part where you are asked to come in. You don't just knock and then walk-in." Jen turned to Sally, shaking her head. "You should think they at least have some sort of puppy training class or something." "If you aren't careful, he's going to be picking Jen-kibble out of his teeth after his next meal," Sally whispered under her breath as Decebel continued to stare Jen down. Jen's gaze never wavered as she responded to Sally, "And what makes you think I object to being dinner?

I love you. I love the way you rub the scar on the back of your hand when you're nervous. I love the way you make a sword into a living part of your body. I love the way you burn your eyes into me, as if you're seeing me fresh every time. I love the black streak in you that wants to kill the world, and the soft streak that is sorry afterward. I love the way you laugh, as if you're surprised that you can laugh at all. I love the way you kiss my breath away. I love the way you breathe and speak and smile. I love the way you take the air out of my lungs when you hold me. I love the way you make a dance out of death. I love the confusion I see in your eyes when you realize you are happy. I love every muscle and bone in your body, every twist and bend in your soul.

I’m here to take you on a date.” I blinked. “A date?” I repeated as if it was a foreign word I’d never heard before. “You know, where we go out, hold hands, cast longing glances at each other? It’s tradition. You might have heard of it.” “But I have class.” “Class?” Now he was looking at me as if I was speaking a different language. “But it’s ten o’clock at night.” “We have classes until midnight.” I smiled pointedly. “The thing about vampires is that they kind of like the night. It’s tradition. You might have heard of it?” “Oh, smart mouth.” He grinned back. “Sexy.

But her attention was on the prince across from her, who seemed utterly ignored by his father and his own court, shoved down near the end with her and Aedion. He ate so beautifully, she thought, watching him cut into his roast chicken. Not a drop moved out of place, not a scrap fell on the table. She had decent manners, while Aedion was hopeless, his plate littered with bones and crumbs scattered everywhere, even some on her own dress. She’d kicked him for it, but his attention was too focused on the royals down the table. So both she and the Crown Prince were to be ignored, then. She looked at the boy again, who was around her age, she supposed. His skin was from the winter, his blue-black hair neatly trimmed; his sapphire eyes lifted from his plate to meet hers. “You eat like a fine lady,” she told him. His lips thinned and color stained his ivory cheeks. Across from her, Quinn, her uncle’s Captain of the Guard, choked on his water. The prince glanced at his father—still busy with her uncle—before replying. Not for approval, but in fear. “I eat like a prince,” Dorian said quietly. “You do not need to cut your bread with a fork and knife,” she said. A faint pounding started in her head, followed by a flickering warmth, but she ignored it. The hall was hot, as they’d shut all the windows for some reason. “Here in the North,” she went on as the prince’s knife and fork remained where they were on his dinner roll, “you need not be so formal. We don’t put on airs.” Hen, one of Quinn’s men, coughed pointedly from a few seats down. She could almost hear him saying, Says the little lady with her hair pressed into careful curls and wearing her new dress that she threatened to skin us over if we got dirty. She gave Hen an equally pointed look, then returned her attention to the foreign prince. He’d already looked down at his food again, as if he expected to be neglected for the rest of the night. And he looked lonely enough that she said, “If you like, you could be my friend.” Not one of the men around them said anything, or coughed. Dorian lifted his chin. “I have a friend. He is to be Lord of Anielle someday, and the fiercest warrior in the land.

Oh, God, Francesca,Now there’s a good one.Why?Why? Why?” He gave each one a different tenor, as if he were testing out the word, asking it to different people. “Why?” he asked again, this time with increased volume as he turned around to face her. “Why? It’s because I love you, damn me to hell. Because I’ve always loved you. Because I loved you when you were with John, and I loved you when I was in India, and God only knows I don’t deserve you, but I love you, anyway.” Francesca sagged against the door. “How’s that for a witty little joke?” he mocked. “I loveyou. I loveyou, my cousin’s wife. I loveyou, the one woman I can never have. I loveyou, Francesca Bridger-ton Stirling.

Gareth sucked in a breath. Hyacinth’s brother wasn’t going to make this easy on him. But that didn’t matter. He had vowed to do this right, and he would not be cowed. He looked up, meeting the viscount’s dark eyes with steady purpose. “I would like to marry Hyacinth,” he said. And then, because the viscount did not say anything, because he didn’t even move, Gareth added, “Er, if she’ll have me.” And then about eight things happened at once. Or perhaps there were merely two or three, and it just seemed like eight, because it was all so unexpected. First, the viscount exhaled, although that did seem to understate the case. It was more of a sigh, actually—a huge, tired, heartfelt sigh that made the man positively deflate in front of Gareth. Which was astonishing. Gareth had seen the viscount on many occasions and was quite familiar with his reputation. This was not a man who sagged or groaned. His lips seemed to move through the whole thing, too, and if Gareth were a more suspicious man, he would have thought that the viscount had said, “Thank you, Lord.” Combined with the heavenward tilt of the viscount’s eyes, it did seem the most likely translation. And then, just as Gareth was taking all of this in, Lord Bridgerton let the palms of his hands fall against the desk with surprising force, and he looked Gareth squarely in the eye as he said, “Oh, she’ll have you. She will definitely have you.” It wasn’t quite what Gareth had expected. “I beg your pardon,” he said, since truly, he could think of nothing else. “I need a drink,” the viscount said, rising to his feet. “A celebration is in order, don’t you think?” “Er…yes?” Lord Bridgerton crossed the room to a recessed bookcase and plucked a cut-glass decanter off one of the shelves. “No,” he said to himself, putting it haphazardly back into place, “the good stuff, I think.” He turned to Gareth, his eyes taking on a strange, almost giddy light. “The good stuff, wouldn’t you agree?” “Ehhhh…” Gareth wasn’t quite sure what to make of this. “The good stuff,” the viscount said firmly. He moved some books to the side and reached behind to pull out what looked to be a very old bottle of cognac. “Have to keep it hidden,” he explained, pouring it liberally into two glasses. “Servants?” Gareth asked. “Brothers.” He handed Gareth a glass. “Welcome to the family.