“You’re far too pretty to be dressed like that.” His breath stirred my hair, “And you’re entirely too excited to be working with knives.”
“You’re far too prickly tempered to be a mistress. You’re far better suited as a wife.”
“You’re too sacred,” he continued, and his voice was husked with emotion. “You’re the one. My sunlit angel. My Roses. Mine.”
“In public, you’re Joss Butler. Cool, self-possessed. In bed, you’re Jocelyn Butler—you’re hot, babe. Uncontrolled. Needy. Sweet,” he breathed. “I like that I know that. I don’t like the fact that other men do too.”
“So. You’re saying my sister’s dressed like a prostitute”
“Wouldn’t you be pleased if I decided I’m becoming too old for adventuring?”Viscount Dare frowned. “You’re not too old for it. But I’d like to think you’re becoming too wise for it.”