Romancing the Duke

Look at him. The man’s not delusional. He’s in love

If men would seek to part us, death itself would be a veil too thin. For lo, though I wander the earth for my king, you remain—now and ever—queen of my heart

“I will say only this.” When Ransom lifted his head, a sly smile played about his lips. “Doubt not.”

“Of course you don’t deserve her. No man deserves a woman like that. He mortgages his very soul to win her and spends his life paying off the debt

I don’t know how to leave.

“Oh, Ransom, it’s so romantic.”

He pushed both hands through his hair in a gesture of frustration. “It’s not.”

“It is. This is romantic. You are being romantic.”

“Have mercy on a broken man. Just go to bed.”

He stood at the bottom of the stairs, listening to her light steps spiraling up to the turret. Everything in him ached to follow. He leaned against the archway and gripped the stone, wrestling his desire.

He liked her too much to go through with it.

How many counts were in forever?

His first glimpse of Izzy Goodnight was to see her bathed in gold. The sunlight showed him, in blazing relief, a slender, gracefully curved silhouette and a corona of wild, loose hair that seemed to be afire.