“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.”

“Listen to me,” he said, his voice even and intense, “and listen well, because I’m only going to say this once. I desire you. I burn for you. I can’t sleep at night for wanting you. Even when I didn’t like you, I lusted for you. It’s the most maddening, beguiling, damnable thing, but there it is. And if I hear one more word of nonsense from your lips, I’m going to have to tie you to the bloody bed and have my way with you a hundred different ways, until you finally get it through your silly skull that you are the most beautiful and desirable woman in England, and if everyone else doesn’t see that, then they’re all bloody fools.”

“But Benedict Bridgerton was obviously determined not to be a gentleman this afternoon, because when she moved one of her feet-just to flex her toes, which were falling asleep in her shoes, honest!-barely half a second passed before he growled, "Don't even think about it.""I wasn't!" she protested. "My foot was falling asleep. And hurry up! It can't possibly take so long to get dressed.""Oh?" he drawled."You're doing this just to torture me," she grumbled."You may feel free to face me at any time," he said, his voice laced with quiet amusement. "I assure you that I asked you to turn your back for the sake of your sensibilities, not mine.”

“I--" She swallowed, perhaps summoning her courage, then continued, "I would not lie to you and say that I did not want this.""Me," he cut in peevishly. "You wanted me."She closed her eyes. “Yes,” she finally said, “I wanted you.”Part of him wanted to interrupt again, to remind her that she still wanted him, that it wasn’t and would never be in the past.“But I can’t have you,” she said quietly, “and because of that, you can’t have me.”And then, to his complete astonishment, he asked, “What if I married you?”

“What are you smiling about?" Benedict demanded.She didn't bother to glance up as she replied, "I'm plotting your demise."He grinned-not that she was looking at him, but it was one of those smiles she could hear in the way he breathed.She hated that she as that sensitive to his every nuance. Especially since she had a sneaking suspicion that he was the same way about her."At least it sounds entertaining,"he said."What does?" she asked, finally moving her eyes from the lower hem of the curtain, which she'd been staring at for what seemed like hours."My demise," he said, his smile crooked and amused. "If you're going to kill me, you might as well enjoy yourself while you're at it, because Lord knows, I won't."Her jaw dropped a good inch. "You're mad," she said.”

“Phillip muttered something under his breath."What did you say?" she asked."Nothing.""You said something."He gave her an impatient look. "If I'd meant for you to hear it, I would have said it out loud."She sucked in her breath. "Then you shouldn't have said it at all.""Some things," Phillip muttered, "are impossible to keep inside.""What did yousay?" she demanded.Phillip raked his hand through his hair. "Eloise—""Did you insult me?""Do you really want to know?""Since it appears we are to be wed," she bit off, "yes.""I don't recall my exact words," Phillip shot back, "but I believe I may have uttered the wordswomenandlack of sense inthe same breath.”

“Oh, very well, do you want to know why I really think you should keep a journal?"She nodded."Because someday you're going to grow into yourself, and you will be as beautiful as you already are smart.”