Lord Dashwood Missed Out

I named all the nothings after you. Because, my darling Nora...no matter where I traveled, you were always what was missing.

I reckon we could all use an opportunity to endear ourselves to our wives." He looked to Rycliff and Thorne. "When's the last time you did something heroic for your lady?" Rycliff smirked. "Last night." Thorne drained his tankard and cracked his neck. "This morning." "I didn't mean in bed," Colin said. Under his breath he added, "Braggarts.

I loved you with imprudent, reckless abandon. I loved you with all the heart and soul I knew how to command.

There were parts of her spun from floss and held together with hope - and those bits were fragile indeed.

You"-he extended both hands in her direction, vaguely cupped-"had breasts. I"-he slapped his palms to his chest-"had erections." She blinked. "What?" For the love of God. "When a man is aroused, his-

Luckily, the world is a sphere. I was always traveling toward you. I just took the long way around.” “For a map-­maker, you’re shockingly bad with directions.” “Then you’d best stay close. So I don’t lose the way.

You’re mad.” He smiled. “Yes. But only a little, and entirely for you.

To begin, there is no better way to prove the worth of one’s mind than to display a willingness to change it.

Trust me, I know how it stings when someone tells you the truth about yourself. It’s like catching a glimpse of your reflection in a looking glass when you’re not prepared. Intolerable. I was furious when I read your pamphlet—­but only because I knew it was the truth. I’d known it for some time. The reality set in somewhere around the Tropic of Capricorn. When I left you behind at Greenwillow Hall . . . I’d missed out.

If you wish to go. And I suspect you do, if only to castigate me on other continents. There’s an idea. Come with me to Tahiti and insult me on a white sand beach. Berate me on a South American mountaintop—­so loudly, the echo sets off an avalanche.” Despite all her intentions to dampen it, a flame of excitement kindled in her heart. And then he threw a log on the fire. “Aside from a thrilling honeymoon, you must admit it would make quite a book.” Curse the man. He understood exactly how to tempt her. “Just imagine the memoir. You could call it Lord Ashwood’s Ship Has Sailed. I’m certain the reading public would be fascinated.

In every instance, she’d wanted to get the better of Dash. And she’d ended up making something better of herself. “If that’s the case,” she said, “then I should continue to spite you.” “And what better way to keep me within spiting distance, than to marry me and spend life at my side?

You lied to me,” she bit out. “About the road, the coach, the bridge. Everything.” She skewered him with a glare. “I’ll bet you weren’t even a virgin.” The bustling of the crowd abruptly ceased. One could have heard a snowflake twirl to the floor. Lord Payne tossed back a swallow of sherry. “I really must attend these things more often.

She hugged him close. “What are old friends for?” “Are we friends again, then?” “Were we friends before?” “I think so. Friends who spent a great deal of time dreaming about kissing and fondling one another. Which sounds to me like the best sort of friends, come to think of it.

He held out his hands, palms up like a pair of scales with his options weighed on either side. He lifted one hand. "A world of adventure." He lifted the other. "You.

As the new day dawns, and my inkwell runs dry, I hereby make a vow. Not a vow to the man I once hoped to marry, but a promise to myself. From this morning forward, I will never shed another tear for him. There is no need. Because everything Lord Dashwood rejected when he so callously walked away — ­is mine to claim. Mine to use. My wit, my strength, and most of all — ­my heart. I will not put any of these on the shelf.

Do you want us to thrash him for you?” the duke offered. “We’re rather good at it, thrashing blackguards.” The other men nodded in agreement. “We’ve a sort of gang,” the handsome one said. “Legendary in these parts. You might have heard of us. Lords of Perdition.” The largest—­Captain Thorne, was it?—­cracked his neck in an ominous way. “That’s tempting,” she said, imagining Dash’s neck constricted by an ugly striped muffler. Very, very tempting.

She never would have dreamed that she could do this without dying of mortification—­staring unabashedly into a man’s eyes while he fondled her most intimate places and she stroked his. But it wasn’t nearly as awkward as Nora had worried it might be. This was Dash, after all. They were merely two ­people who’d been acquainted all their lives, getting to know one another in this new, thrilling way.