The Day of the Duchess (Scandal & Scoundrel, #3)

by Sarah MacLean

She’d left him two years, seven months ago, exactly.

First line.

“The bastards who spout shit about it being better to have loved and lost have either never loved or never lost.”

How she loathed this world and the way it preyed upon women.

“What would you like me to be?” she asked, her beautiful blue eyes meeting his, seeing into him. He didn’t want some fantasy version of her. He didn’t need it. She was the fantasy. Heart pounding, he shook his head. “Whatever you wish to be,” he whispered. “Whatever makes you happy.”

We’ve always liked each other too much in the moments, Malcolm. And they were never enough to make up for how we hurt each other.”

“Well, this is already the best country house party I’ve ever attended,” Sesily said, large slab of beef in hand. After handing the meat to Caleb with a whispered “For your eye,”

Lol

He exhaled, as well. Long and wonderfully ragged, as though he were as ravaged by feeling as she was. As though he were ravaged worse. She closed her eyes, resisting the urge to lean into the warm cradle of his palm. Please, she begged silently, to whomever might be listening. Please, let him be ravaged worse.

It was her turn to lift her hand. Her turn to set palm to cheek. Her turn to ravage. And she did, feeling more powerful than ever when he exhaled, loving the edge of breath that whipped over lips like memory. As though she’d burned him. And she might have. They’d always been oil and flame. Why not let it happen? Just once? Just for a moment? Just to see if the combustion remained.

For the rest of his life, he would wonder why he kissed her then, crushing her mouth beneath his until they were both gasping for breath. Until her arms were wrapped around his neck and she was matching every touch, every groan, every caress. And he would wonder why she kissed him back instead of pushing him away and leaving him forever. Perhaps it was because in passion, they saw the truth—that they were perfectly matched in strength and power and desire. Perhaps it was because, in those moments, there was a tiny thread of hope that they might find each other again, when their anger had passed and there was space for something else. Or perhaps it was because he loved her, and she loved him in return.

He looked up, his beautiful eyes turned black in the darkness, a wide grin on his face. “You’ll follow.” She huffed a little laugh. “I have no idea why you would think such a thing.” “Because this is what we do,” he said. “We follow each other into darkness.” And then he passed through a dark doorway and out of view.