Because If He Looked Like He Was

A Lot Could Happen In A Week. Just Look At The Last One.

She'd Met Colin On A Monday. She'd Kissed Him On A Friday. Twelve Years Later. She Sighed. It Seemed Fairly Pathetic.

He Blinked A Few Times, Each Motion So Slow That He Was Never Quite Sure If He’d Get His Eyes Open Again. He Wasn’t Wearing A Shirt. Funny How He Was Only Just Realizing It. Funnier Still That He Couldn’t Seem To Summon Any Concern For Her Maidenly Sensibilities. She Might Be Blushing. He Couldn’t Tell. It Was Too Dark To See. But It Didn’t Matter. This Was Honoria. She Was A Good Egg. A Sensible Egg. She Wouldn’t Be Scarred Forever By The Sight Of His Chest.

Anthony Sneezed And Pushed Them Aside. "mother, I Am Trying To Have A Conversation With The Duke." Violet Looked At Simon. "do You Want To Have This Conversation With My Son?" "not Particularly." "fine, Then. Anthony, Be Quiet.

His Mouth Captured Hers, Trying To Show Her With His Kiss What He Was Still Learning To Express In Words. He Loved Her. He Worshipped Her. He'd Walk Across Fire For Her. He— —still Had The Audience Of Her Three Brothers. Slowly Breaking The Kiss, He Turned His Face To The Side. Anthony, Benedict, And Colin Were Still Standing In The Foyer. Anthony Was Studying The Ceiling, Benedict Was Pretending To Inspect His Fingernails, And Colin Was Staring Quite Shamelessly.