The Irresistible Urge to Fall for Your Enemy (Dearly Beloathed, #1)

by Brigitte Knightley

“I’m trained to keep a cool head in times of crisis,” said Fairhrim. “Though my subjects are usually haemorrhaging blood, rather than absurdities.”

“There hasn’t been a cow here in months. Present company excepted.”

A person of moderate intelligence would say no in response to this dire assessment. An imbecile would say yes. “Yes,” said Mordaunt.

“Onion Boy, the Eternal Optimist.”

“Besides, they threatened to kidnap you.” “And? You threatened to kidnap me.” “Exactly: only I can do that.

“Might we,” asked Aurienne, “go anywhere without subtracting from the population?” “Would you prefer,” asked Mordaunt, “that we add to it?”

“I’d rather you hate me than not think of me at all.”

“How can you be so mean to your own patient?” “You aren’t a patient.” “You’re caring for me.” “I’m caring for you, not about you.” “Ouch.”

“My codpiece is already full.” “Of what?” “My cod.”

And he shadow-walked to the only dark places in the room: their insides.