No Good Duke Goes Unpunished

I love your laugh. I want to hear it every day. I want to be through all this darkness and devastation. I want happiness now. I want our due. I want what we’ve deserved from the beginning.” He paused and stared deep into her eyes, willing her to understand how much he loved her. “I want you.

Sometimes love is not enough.

What did you do to her?” There were a thousand things he’d done. I didn’t believe her. I didn’t trust her. I didn’t show her how much I loved her. I didn’t protect her. He settled on: “I made a mistake.

You want me.” “Want does not begin to describe the way I feel about you,” his low voice promised. “Want is nothing compared with the level of desire I have. With the desperation I feel. With the way I long for you.

He’d made her laugh and smile. He’d made her feel beautiful. For the first time in her life. For the only time in her life.

What do I win?” she whispered in his ear. He grinned. “What would you like?” “You.” So simple. So perfect. “I am yours,” he said, kissing her. “As you are mine.” She laughed. “Always.” And it was the truth.

Aren't we all victims of fate?

She steeled her spine. “Like Boleyn to the chopping block.” Anna smirked. “Queen of England, are we?” Mara shrugged. “Something to aspire to.

I notice more than you could imagine.

Don’t you see, Mara.” He leaned in and whispered, “You’re mine, now.

Without the past, there would be no present. No future. I don’t regret a moment of it. It all brought us here. To this place. To this moment. To this love.

We don’t like it when women get uppity.” “Well,” she said, “that is a bit of a problem, as I am feeling quite uppity.

Hope was a fool’s emotion.

She told herself that she was happy to meet her executioner.

We were discussing the fine puppetry of fate.

It’s difficult to turn from the promise of retribution. Even if it’s the barest promise.

We cannot marry,' she said softly. He kissed the top of her head. 'Sleep with me tonight, and let me convince you tomorrow why it is the best of all my ideas.

She closed her eyes and willed him to lose the power of speech. Immediately and irreversibly. “Obviously, I didn’t mean—” “Well. Thank you.” In the entire history of time, had willing ever worked?

Want does not begin to describe the way I feel about you,” his low voice promised. “Want is nothing compared with the level of desire I have. With the desperation I feel. With the way I long for you.

There were moments that changed one’s life. And paths that came without a fork in the road.

He cared only for the woman who had caused the devastation. The woman standing alone at the center of that broken mirror, proud and tall and strong like a queen, the chair she’d used to shatter the window still in her hands. Mara. His love. She was here. Finally. She set the chair on the ground and used it to climb over the ledge and into the ring, caring not a bit about the men around her. Looking only at him. e was moving toward her even as the last of the glass tinkled to the ground, caring only for her. Wanting to reach her. To hold her. To believe that she was there. She reached up and removed her mask, letting all of London see her for the second time in as many days. A murmur of recognition moved like a wave through the room. “I grew tired of waiting for you to come find me, Your Grace,” she said, loud enough for those near to hear her. But the words were for him. Only him. He smiled. “I would have found you.” “I’m not so certain,” she replied. “You seemed somewhat occupied.

He never should have pushed Hebert to keep the line of the dress so low. What had he been thinking? Every man in attendance would be watching her...... His hand fell to the curve of her lower back, and he shepherded her through the throngs of people clustered around the door, resisting the urge to throttle the men nearby whose roving eyes lingered on the high swell of Mara’s breasts. He cast a sidelong gaze at the bosom in question, considering the perfect pink skin there, the three small freckles that stood sentry just above the edge of the jade green silk. His mouth went dry. Then watered. He cleared his throat, and she looked up at him, eyes wide and questioning behind the mask. “Well, Your Grace? You have me here now—what do you intend to do with me?” What he wanted to do to her was to take her home and spread her bare in his bed and rectify the missing events of that evening, twelve years prior.

Daniel scowled at him. “She was crying when she left.” Temple’s chest tightened at the words. “You saw her?” The boy nodded. “Mrs. MacIntyre does not cry.” Temple remembered the tears in her eyes that night that he’d left her naked in the boxing ring, and shame coursed through him. “You made her cry.” The accusation was harsh and honest. Temple did not deny it. “I am going to fetch her. To make it right.” Henry spoke up, frustration and anger on his little face, as though he were prepared to avenge his lady. “What did you do to her?” He settled on: “I made a mistake.” George nodded. “You should apologize.” The other boys seemed to agree with this course of action. “Girls like apologies,” Henry added. Temple nodded once. “I shall do that very thing. But first I must find her.” “She’s very good at hiding,” Henry said. Another boy nodded. “The best of all of us.” Temple did not doubt that. “I, also, am good at hiding. And one good at hiding is excellent at seeking.” George looked skeptical. “As good as she is?” He nodded once. “Better.” He hoped it was true. Daniel did not believe it. “She’s left us. I don’t think she is coming back.” The fear in the boy’s eyes echoed that in Temple’s chest, and he was reminded why he’d thought Daniel was his son.

West pressed on. “Why do you care if she stays or goes?” He met West’s gaze. “One day, the woman you love will slip through your fingers, and I shall ask you the same question.” He exited the room, leaving West to consider the implications of the statement.

Even now . . . with you inches away . . . I can’t help but mourn the loss of you.

He did understand what it was to be alone. To be limited by circumstances beyond one’s control.

Clothes,” the Frenchwoman continued. “They have a power that is undeniable. They can change everything.

¡Qué Dios le ayudara! Quería besarla hasta hacerla perder la conciencia. ¡Qué más daba que fuera rara! De hecho, quería besarla hasta perder la conciencia porque era rara.