Love in Dark Settings

Authors I'm currently reading or plan to read during the next few months (excluding research literature):

Gay literature: Marquesate and david stein.

Heterosexual romance: Mary Stewart.

Historical fantasy: Diana Gabaldon (the next Outlander novel is due out on September 22).

Historical fiction: Catherine Christian, Cynthia Harnett, Norma Johnston, Naomi Mitchison, Sharon Kay Penman, Rosemary Sutcliff, Geoffrey Trease, and Barbara Willard.

I'm fairly top-heavy with dead authors, as you can see. What I'm desperately searching for is authors that my Muse likes, namely:

1) A fair amount of description.

2) Good stylistically.

3) Has all the usual elements I like in a story: dramatic tension, interesting and sympathetic characters (I include "angst-ridden villains" as sympathetic), and preferably an interesting theme.

It's category 1 that's killing me. I have loads of books on my shelf that fall into categories 3, and a select number that fall into category 2, but I have the darnedest time finding authors who insert descriptive passages into their stories, other than something along the lines of "He looked over his shoulder, frowning."

What I'm looking for is descriptive passages like this:

"The image of Adrophite there is armed with shield and spear; yet I never knew a place so full of peace. The temple is delicate and small, with a terrace from which the slopes fall gently; the walls and towers seem far below; the mountains round about hang like veils of grey and purple, and the two seas stretch away, all silken in the light." (Mary Renault: The Last of the Wine.)

"Now the voyage was begun in earnest; the marines and seamen who were not on duty had gone below, and the Legate and his staff had disappeared into the cabin under the poop. On the flying-desk between the banks of the rowers, the overseer had begun his ceaseless prowling to and fro, his narrow eyes alert for any excuse to use the long lash he handled with such skill. Every now and then he would find the excuse he sought, and the lash would flicker out like dark lightning, and some poor wretch would yelp with pain as it seared across his straining shoulders." (Rosemary Sutcliff: Outcast.)

"He stopped when he reached the light; she saw him rock on his feet, as if a wind had pushed him. Then he made a sound, a broken word, and slid to his knees at his father's feet. Draken bent to pull him up, then knelt himself, as if even he could bear the weight of all the bird's enchantments, and drew Brand into his arms." (Patricia A. McKillip: The Cygnet and the Firebird.)

"The thunder of the guns swells to a single heavy roar and then breaks up again into separate explosions. The dry bursts of the machine-guns rattle. Above us the air teems with invisible swift movement, with howls, pipings, and hisses. They are the smaller shells; - and amongst them, booming through the night like an organ, go the great coal-boxes and the heavies. They have a hoarse, distant bellow like a rutting stag and make their way high above the howl and whistle of the smaller shells. It reminds me of flocks of wild geese when I hear them." (Erich Maria Remarque: All Quiet on the Western Front.)

Can any of you help with suggestions?