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Kindle Notes & Highlights
He and William were loving friends, like David and Jonathan in the Bible.
“I’m hardly eligible,” David scoffed. “You’re alive, aren’t you?” Chalmers said drily.
“Goodness me, Mr. Lauriston,” Balfour drawled. “What a thing to know! You are not just a pretty face, are you?”
“If France teaches us anything, it is that it’s unwise to crush the people.”
Lust didn’t make you forget all the reasons you shouldn’t do something. It just made you not care. It made you not care, even knowing you would regret your actions later.
“I played the game wrong with you before,” he murmured. “I thought I should appeal to your reason—but I needed to appeal to your body, didn’t I? If you think about things too much, you get tied up in knots.”
“It’s like a sickness,” Balfour continued. “Ever since I met you. You’ve been…preying on my mind. It’s irritating. I never entertain repeat performances.”
“I’m not sure life is about being happy,” David answered with quiet honesty.
“I think it’s about being true to yourself,” he said at length.
And besides all that, he’d tasted, if only once in his life, real, honest passion. With Murdo Balfour. How could he regret that? How could he regret the best, and sweetest moment of all his life?
