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“No, you have a lovely mouth.” His thumb grazed my bottom lip. “Whereas I have a wicked mouth that does terribly wicked things.”
“But most of all,” he said, placing a final kiss over my pulse, “I like the way you hate me.”
“Most importantly, I know that you are the type of woman others are willing to die for—myself included.”
“I told women I loved them so they’d come to bed with me,” he said quietly, his eyes still closed as he confessed to the night. “And one of them happened to be a hateful witch who doesn’t know the meaning of forgiveness. She ripped away my magic, leaving only a pittance, and cursed me to be used by women the way I had used her. And then she took my lies and cursed my lips so that I could never escape.”
“When you’ve been sticking pins in your scalp for nineteen years, you can weigh in on my hairstyle choices. Until then, I will wear my hair how I like.”
“Someone’s in a mood this morning,” he muttered.
Ughhhh. Men.
“I—Shit.” He licked his lips and winced. “I don’t—” He swore again and dashed his hands through his hair, tugging on the ends. Then his hands dropped. Green eyes met mine. Tadhg took a deep breath and said, “I do. I love you.”
“I’m not too much, Robert. You were never enough.”
“I am wrecked by you,” he said, “completely undone. I would trade my soul for a smile. My kingdom for a kiss. My world to call you my wife. Will you give me the honor of a second chance to be your husband?”
There once was a girl from Graystones, seeking a cure for death. She met a witch and begged for help, but instead drew her last breath.
“I know you don’t love me,” he said, the quiet resignation in his voice breaking my heart, “but I think I love you enough for the both of us.”
