Just Like Heaven (Smythe-Smith, #1)

by Julia Quinn

“You always did that,” he said. She looked up. “What?” “Ate your dessert slowly, just to torture the rest of us.” “I like to make it last.” She gave him an arch look, accompanied by a one-shouldered shrug. “If you feel tortured by that, that must be your own problem.” “Heartless,” he murmured. “With you, always.”

His father had never been known for his hospitality, and the last thing Marcus would have wanted was to invite his friends into his silent mausoleum of a childhood.

“You are always looking at people like this.” And then she made a face, one he couldn’t possibly begin to describe. “If I ever look like that,” he said dryly, “precisely like that, to be more precise, I give you leave to shoot me.”

But she spun too fast and lost her footing. She let out a shriek as she tried to regain her balance, and Marcus did what any gentleman would instinctively do. He rushed forward to steady her. Except he stepped in that damned mole hole. The next cry of surprise was his, and somewhat profane, he was ashamed to admit. They both went down when he lost his balance, and they landed on the damp earth with a thud, Honoria on her back, and Marcus right on top of her.

“It is better to marry a good man than to rush into a disaster,”

And then, well . . . He might have slept for a bit. He rather hoped he was sleeping, because he was quite certain he’d seen a six-foot rabbit hopping through his bedchamber, and if that wasn’t a dream, they were all in very big trouble.

“You need to get better,” she whispered. “I don’t know where I’ll be if you don’t.” And then, so softly that he barely heard her: “I think you might be my touchstone.”

But he was glad she was here. He had a feeling she might be his touchstone, too.

“Miss Butterworth and the Mad Baron?”

Omg xD

“Then you’ll steal me a piece?” He gave her his best smile. His best I-almost-died-so-how-can-you-deny-me smile. Or at least that’s how he hoped it appeared. The truth was, he wasn’t a very accomplished flirt, and it might very well have come across as an I-am-mildly-deranged-so-it’s-in-all-of-our-best-interests-if-you-pretend-to-agree-with-me smile.

She let her head rest against the piano. Then she actually let her head drop to the keys. “That sounded good,” Daisy said with surprise. “It sounded like a fish vomiting,” Sarah said into the piano. “A charming image,” Honoria remarked.

“And I am not picking up my instrument.” Iris actually giggled. Then her eyes lit up. “I could help you.” “Pick it up?” Iris’s grin grew positively devilish. “The window is not far . . .” “I knew I loved you,” Sarah said with a wide smile.

“It is difficult to feign good humor when all I wish is to throw myself through the window.”

He was loath to call it music; in all honesty, it was more of a weapon than anything else.

“I want to kiss you,” he said, and he touched one finger to her lips. “I want to hold you.” And then, because he couldn’t have kept it inside for one second longer, he said, “I burn for you.”

There was a collective gasp, and Daisy faked a swoon, sliding elegantly into Iris, who promptly stepped aside and let her hit the floor.