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“Do you know what Plato said about love?”
....
“He said, ‘Love is born into every human being: it calls back the halves of our original nature together; it tries to make one out of two and heal the wound of human nature.’”
“Is that a fancy way of saying you love me, Jamesy?”
“Well, you already know that I love you, so rather it was a fancy way of saying that we fit together perfectly.”
Harold winked. “We do.”
James laughed at Harold’s grin. “No, I did not mean in that way!”
― A Scandal for Stratford
....
“He said, ‘Love is born into every human being: it calls back the halves of our original nature together; it tries to make one out of two and heal the wound of human nature.’”
“Is that a fancy way of saying you love me, Jamesy?”
“Well, you already know that I love you, so rather it was a fancy way of saying that we fit together perfectly.”
Harold winked. “We do.”
James laughed at Harold’s grin. “No, I did not mean in that way!”
― A Scandal for Stratford
“You ought to give him a cat.”
James started. “Bentley?”
“Lord Wellgood,” Harold said. “To show he is not really so gruff, you ought to give him a cat. Perhaps one that sneaks in at night, and he hasn’t the heart to turn it out again, even though he complains loudly to anyone who will listen that it is there.”
James laughed softly. “Perhaps I will.”
“A cat, and a fire, and the man—the woman—he loves in his arms. That would make a fine ending for your story indeed.”
“I think so too,” James murmured, and together they sat and watched the flames as, outside, the night moved slowly closer to dawn.”
― A Scandal for Stratford
James started. “Bentley?”
“Lord Wellgood,” Harold said. “To show he is not really so gruff, you ought to give him a cat. Perhaps one that sneaks in at night, and he hasn’t the heart to turn it out again, even though he complains loudly to anyone who will listen that it is there.”
James laughed softly. “Perhaps I will.”
“A cat, and a fire, and the man—the woman—he loves in his arms. That would make a fine ending for your story indeed.”
“I think so too,” James murmured, and together they sat and watched the flames as, outside, the night moved slowly closer to dawn.”
― A Scandal for Stratford
“James gave another nod but wouldn’t open his eyes. Harold smiled, running his palm lightly over James’s chest.
“Who am I? What year is it?”
“It’s 1704. And you’re Princess Amelia of Britain.” Harold snorted. “Very good.” He tightened his embrace, then let go. “Just checking you’re with me.”
“You’re mine,” James whispered. “It’s the twenty-third of July, 1818, and you’re mine.”
Harold froze, chest constricting. “That’s very true.” He stroked James’s hip. “All mine.”
“I just love you so much.”
“I love you too.” Harold kissed his shoulder.”
― A Scandal for Stratford
“Who am I? What year is it?”
“It’s 1704. And you’re Princess Amelia of Britain.” Harold snorted. “Very good.” He tightened his embrace, then let go. “Just checking you’re with me.”
“You’re mine,” James whispered. “It’s the twenty-third of July, 1818, and you’re mine.”
Harold froze, chest constricting. “That’s very true.” He stroked James’s hip. “All mine.”
“I just love you so much.”
“I love you too.” Harold kissed his shoulder.”
― A Scandal for Stratford
“And then I see it. My eyes lock on the tiniest of details, but it’s one that tips my world off its axis all the same.
He’s got his cap on backward. As soon as I notice it flipped around, my stomach swoops in a dramatic swan dive. A fluttering occupies my chest, and oh my fucking god, this cannot be happening.
Fuck my miserable life; I’ve definitely got worse Daddy issues than I thought if seeing him wear his cap backward leaves me feeling a certain way.”
― Saving the Rain
He’s got his cap on backward. As soon as I notice it flipped around, my stomach swoops in a dramatic swan dive. A fluttering occupies my chest, and oh my fucking god, this cannot be happening.
Fuck my miserable life; I’ve definitely got worse Daddy issues than I thought if seeing him wear his cap backward leaves me feeling a certain way.”
― Saving the Rain
“I can do it myself, you know.”
Harold grinned and tugged at his forelock. “Just doing my job, my lord.”
“Oh, so out here I am your lord, am I?”
“Out here,” Harold agreed. “In our cottages, you’re my whore, aren’t you, love?”
― A Scandal for Stratford
Harold grinned and tugged at his forelock. “Just doing my job, my lord.”
“Oh, so out here I am your lord, am I?”
“Out here,” Harold agreed. “In our cottages, you’re my whore, aren’t you, love?”
― A Scandal for Stratford
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