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“I’m not fond of anything,” Lillian said queasily, “that stares back at me just before I’m supposed to eat it.”
Real lol
Although there might have been a dearth of rare hybrid butterflies outside, the ones in her stomach more than made up for it.
He fingered the delicate lobe, his thumb smoothing over the tingling surface. “You never wear earrings. Why not?”
Why is this sooo 😩😩😩
“Your skin is like silk,” he murmured.
CRYING BYE
If her sister didn’t return soon, she thought dizzily, Westcliff was going to kiss her. And she wanted him to, so badly that her lips had begun to tremble.
EXACTLY
Stopping before them, St. Vincent confided, “I would have found you sooner, but I was attacked by a swarm of dingy-dippers.”
LMAO I LOVE HIM
“Are you a vegetarian, then?” Lillian asked, having heard the word frequently of late. Many discussions had centered on the topic of the vegetable system of diet that was being promoted by a hospital society in Ramsgate. St. Vincent responded with a dazzling smile. “No, sweet, I’m a cannibal.”
Oh his book is going to SLAP
Lillian couldn’t help but notice that his disposition seemed to have soured since the moment St. Vincent had invited her on a carriage drive. But why would that displease him?
GIRL DON'T BE OBTUSE
Whereas Lillian Bowman had obsessed him from the first moment he had seen her.
Marcus had never felt the bite of unspent passion as keenly as he did now.
“Congratulations, my lady—you are now a grandmother. Lady Aline has given birth to a healthy boy, named John McKenna the second.”
CRYING OH MY GOD
Frowning, she recalled the way the earl had touched her face last evening. A subtle caress, but wholly inappropriate, coming from a man who had absolutely no designs on her.
Girl open your damn eyes
Westcliff needed someone who would challenge and interest him. Someone who could reach through to the warm, human man who was buried beneath the layers of aristocratic self-possession. Someone who angered him, teased him, and made him laugh. “Someone like me,” Lillian whispered miserably.
EXACTLY and stop being miserable about it
His gaze flicked over her in swift assessment. Lillian felt his presence so palpably that the fifteen yards or so between them might not have existed.
The crowded ballroom seemed to disappear, and she felt as if they were dancing alone, far away in some private place.
This version of Westcliff was the one she preferred to all others—the seldom seen version in which he was disheveled and relaxed, and mesmerizing in his dark virility. The open neck of his shirt revealed the edge of a fleece of curling hair. His trousers hung slightly loose on his lean waist, held up by a pair of braces that defined the hard line of his shoulders.
Phewww
Lillian, my angel . . .
CRYING
God in heaven, he was tired of fighting his desire for her. It was exhausting to struggle against something so overwhelming. Like trying not to breathe.
“There is something about you that makes me feel terribly wicked.
He couldn’t kiss her deeply enough. He needed more of her.
“You can’t marry him.” She turned to face him with a challenging glance. “Why not?” “Because you’re mine now.”
ON GOD
Yesterday,” he told her, “I finally realized that all the things I thought were wrong about you were actually the things I enjoyed most. I don’t give a damn what you do, so long as it pleases you. Run barefoot on the front lawn. Eat pudding with your fingers. Tell me to go to hell as often as you like. I want you just as you are. After all, you’re the only woman aside from my sisters who has ever dared to tell me to my face that I’m an arrogant ass. How could I resist you?”
😩😩😩😩
“I’ll leave you here to finish your, er . . . conversation.” As he withdrew from the room, however, it seemed that he couldn’t keep from ducking his head back in and asking Marcus cryptically, “Once a week, did you say?”
LMAO
She couldn’t help blushing as she reflected that the owner of Stony Cross Park was by far its most compelling attraction. Life with this vital man, no matter where they resided, would never be dull.
🥰🥰🥰
“The moment you enter the room, the earl becomes far more animated. It is obvious that he is fascinated by you. One can hardly have a conversation with him, as he is constantly straining to hear what you are saying, and watching your every movement.”
“I’m almost positive that I’m expecting,” she whispered. “I’ve had signs recently . . . queasiness and sleepiness . . . and this is the second month that I seem to have missed my courses.”
AHHHH MY FAMILY
“Whatever comes of it, marrying her will be the least foolish thing I’ve ever done,” he replied, and took his leave of her with a shallow bow.
SPEAK YOUR TRUTH BABY
“Since I couldn’t obtain a pear from a bottle for you,” came Marcus’s voice from behind her, “this was the next best alternative.”
Crying he got her the pear
“I couldn’t have borne it,” he admitted, “seeing you married to anyone but me.”
My man
“You’re a delight to me, Lillian Bowman,” he whispered. “Everything about you.”
“I’m coming, you old witch,” she muttered. “Do your worst.”
Lmao mood
“I’ll send her to her eternal fucking rest,” Marcus roared, “if this door isn’t opened now.”
SPEAK YOUR TRUTH
“Oh, shut up, you evil hag!” cried Daisy Bowman impatiently from the doorway, her eyes huge in her pale face.
MY GIRL
White-faced, Lillian glanced at Simon Hunt, who wore a faint smile. “Aren’t you going to help him?” she demanded. “Oh no. Westcliff would never forgive me for interrupting. It’s his first tavern brawl.” Hunt’s gaze flickered over Lillian in friendly assessment.
Lmaooo
“There is nothing on earth more beautiful to me than your smile . . . no sound sweeter than your laughter . . . no pleasure greater than holding you in my arms. I realized today that I could never live without you, stubborn little hellion that you are. In this life and the next, you’re my only hope of happiness. Tell me, Lillian, dearest love . . . how can you have reached so far inside my heart?”
😩😩😩😩😩😩
“Here, I’ll read his explanation. ‘Your success in capturing the heart of Lord Westcliff was purely the result of your own magic, and the essential addition to the fragrance was, in fact, yourself.’ ”
“Come to see the devil in his lair, have you?” he asked. She came closer, her expression intent and oddly fearless. “You’re not the devil. You’re only a man. A very fl-flawed one.”
Oh damn what is going awnnn
“Then I’m here to make a Faustian bargain.” Her speech was very slow, as if she had to think over every word before she spoke. “I have a proposition for you, my lord.”
WHAT SPEAK
