Say Yes to the Marquess

You’re mine.” Clio said it again. Because it felt so good, and because his needing, stricken expression couldn’t help but touch her heart. “My hero. My love. My future husband, hopefully.”

“Your future husband. Definitely.” His hands captured her by the waist. His eyes darkened. “I’m yours, then. And you’re mine, as well.”

you’re hurting, tell me to stop.”

“Don’t stop. I love this. I love you. There’s just . . . a great deal of you to love, that’s all. Be patient.”

. “I love you. Take that.”

Oh, Rafe intended to take it, all right.

He was going to take it, hold it tight with both

Rafe,” she said, “I’m going to marry you because I love you.”

tonight. When I’m around, you don’t wait out dances. You don’t go hungry. And you sure as hell don’t come at the end of any line.”

It made him want to be her first everything.

Not just her first, but her last. Her best.

“I don’t know where you got such an idea,” he told Bruiser. “That’s absurd. She’s . . . And we. . . .” He gestured uselessly. “I’m not in love with her.”

Bruiser rolled his eyes. “You’re right. You are bollocks at lying. Let’s just go inside.”

What are you afraid of?”

You. Me. Cake. Piers. Marriage. Spiders.

Everything.

So . . . you’re . . . not attracted to fair-haired, blue-eyed, lushly curved women?”

“Oh, I am,” he said. “I am. And it’s because they remind me of you.”

Yes, but they weren’t very helpful. And the words they use are ridiculous. All this talk of folds and rods and buttons. Are we copulating or sewing draperies?”