No Man Of Any Intelligence Would Pretend

Now I Want You To Listen To Me," He Said In A Low Voice, Taking Her Chin In His Hand And Forcing Her To Look At Him. "and Listen Carefully, Because I'm Only Going To Say This Once. You Are Going To Marry Me Before This Week Is Out. Since You Have Conveniently Run Off To Scotland, We Don't Need A Special License. You're Just Lucky I Don't Haul You Off To A Church Right This Instant. Get Yourself A Dress And Get Yourself Some Flowers, Because, Sweeetheart, You're Getting Yourself A New Name.

It Suddenly Made Sense. Only Twice In His Life Had He Felt This Inexplicable, Almost Mystical Attraction To A Woman. He’d Thought It Remarkable, To Have Found Two, When In His Heart He’d Always Believed There Was Only One Perfect Woman Out There For Him. His Heart Had Been Right. There Was Only One.

Darling," He Said Distractedly,"about The Moon..." "yes?" "i Don't Think It Matters Whether You Want It Or Not." "what Are You Talking About?" "the Moon. I Think It's Yours." Victoria Yawned, Not Bothering To Open Her Eyes. "fine. I'm Glad To Have It." "but--" Robert Shook His Head. He Was Growing Fanciful. The Moon Didn't Belong To His Wife. It Didn't Follow Her, Protect Her. It Certainly Didn't Wink At Anybody. But He Stared Out The Window The Rest Of The Way Home, Just In Case

If He Was Planning To Attack And Ravish, He Gave No Indication Of Being In A Hurry To Do So.

It Wasn‟t Even Desire. It Was Far More Than That. It Was Love. Love. With A Capital L And Swirly Script And Hearts And Flowers And Whatever Else The Angels— And Yes, All Those Annoying Little Cupids—wished To Use For Embellishment.