“What am I?"She grinned. "A pain in my posterior."He smiled, too, crinkles forming around his eyes. "I like your posterior.""Yours isn't too shabby, either.""Answer the question.""I thought I had.”

“What I want from you,” he said, and Finley braced herself, “is your trust. Irrevocable and unshakable. I want you to put your life in my hands, and I want to be able to do the same without hesitation.” Disturbed to her very soul, Finley could only shake her head. “You ask too much.” Put his life in her hands? He was deranged! A bedlamite for certain. A crooked grin curved his mouth. “Too much? You strange and wonderful girl, that is the least I’ll ask of you.”

“You aligned yourself with the wrong fella and there were consequences. Now, you can wallow in it, or you can pull that thick head of yours out of your posterior and help us figure out how to fix things.”

“You aligned yourself with the wron fella and there were consequences. Now you can wallow in it, or you can pull that thick head of yours out of your posterior and help us figure out how to fix things.”

“He's rich, handsome and dangerous. You like that."She smiled at the uncharacteristic lack of self-confidence in his tone. "My dear duke. You are rich, handsome and dangerous."His lips lifted on one side. "I would never describe myself as dangerous.""Could you maybe stop talking? I'd like to kiss you but your lips won't stay still."Eyes twinkling, he pressed his lips shut. Finley smiled and guided his head down to hers.”

“What would I do without you to give me clarity?""I imagine you'd suffocate yourself by shoving your head too far up your own backside.”

“I reckon that's the one thing you and I have in common - we both care about Em."She gave him a small smile. "And we both have naturally charming dispositions."His lips curved a little at her sarcasm. "That, too.”