“Fearghus entered what he now considered her chamber, but immediately ducked the book flung at his head. Clearly she’d been waiting for him. And she was not happy.“He’s the one supposed to be helping me,” she roared at him.“Did you just throw a book at me? In my own den?”“Yes. And I’d throw it again!”Fearghus scratched his head in confusion. He’d never met a human brave enough—or stupid enough, depending on your point of view—to challenge him. “But,” he croaked out, amazed, “I’m a dragon.”“And I have tits. It means nothing to me!”

“A small fireball hit him in the face. He again looked at his sister, smoke still curling out from her human nostrils. "What brat?""I said she'll want to return to her men as soon as she can.""I know." His sister smiled up at him. "And will you be ready for that, idiot?""It's Lord Idiot to you." Fearghus rested his head on his crossed forearms. "And yes, brat. I will be.”

“Clever enough when it suits you, aren’t you?”“I have my moments. That cat’s out,” he continued as he took his own jacket from the hook. “Take no pity on him should he come scratching at the door. Bub knew what he was when he insisted on moving out here with me.”“Did you remember to feed him?”“I’m not a complete moron.” Unoffended, he wrapped a scarf around his neck. “He has food enough, and if he didn’t, he’d go begging at your kitchen door. He’d do that anyway, just to shame me.”

“Give him a good ducking, anyhow.-But he'd crawl back.Duck him again; and keep ducking him.-Suppose he should take it into his head to duck you, though—yes, and drown you—what then?”

“The youngest one,” she interrupted. “The youngest son, I mean. The one who is unmarried.”“I know who he is.”“Very well, then. What is wrong with him?” At that she cocked her head to the side and waited expectantly.He thought for a moment. “Nothing.”“You—wait.” She blinked. “Nothing?”He shook his head, then shifted his weight a little; his good foot was beginning to fall asleep. “Nothing comes immediately to mind.” It was true. She could do a good deal worse than Gregory Bridgerton.“Really?” she asked suspiciously. “You find nothing at all objectionable about him.”Marcus pretended to think about this a bit longer. Clearly he was supposed to be playing a role here, probably that of the villain. Or if not that, then the grumpy old man. “I suppose he’s a bit young,” he said.”

“What do you want?"To know you," she said without hesitation. "All of you. I want to know what makes you feel good.""Your laughter," he said without hesitation. "Feeling your hands on me. The way you look at me, whether I've been a complete dumbass, or just made you come-"With a laugh, she ducked her head, but he dipped his down until she was looking at him again. "You want to know what scared me?" he asked. "Yes"He leaned even closer and slid a hand to the nape of her neck. "The thought of never having those things with you again."-Chloe and Sawyer (Head over Heels)”