Bedded for Revenge

‘I love you, Sorcha,’ Cesare whispered, just before the priest began to speak.
And Sorcha was glad this wasn’t a fairytale, because it would now be ending.
Instead of just beginning.

‘You look beautiful,’ he murmured.

go,’ he whispered. ‘The logistics are just details. The important thing is us.’
Us.
Such a tiny word, and yet such a big one—the most important word in any vocabulary—English or Italian.

‘Now that I’ve got you, I never want to let you go

because I think I love you, too. And I really must kiss you now.’

She’d said it because she had needed to—and because he’d needed to hear it. Even if they were destined never to be together she knew she would never have forgiven herself if she hadn’t.

the heart was a far less resilient organ than the rest of the body.

‘I think I love you,’ she said again, and she put her arms around him.

Show him, she thought. Just show him how much you care.

I’m here because I think I love you.’