He laughed. A strained, ha, ha, ha, I may die of this laugh.

A hint of sensual frustration roughened his voice. “And I will curse the gods along with them, Min. Some wild monsoon raged through me as I looked at you just now. It’s left me rearranged inside, and I don’t have a map.

Amazing, then, how with that one remark, he made a mortifying situation thirteen times worse.

Is it truly so unfathomable, that an imperfect girl might be perfectly loved?

That’s it,” she said, balling her hands in fists. “I’m not letting you out of it this time. I insist that you take me to Scotland. I demand you ruin me. As a point of honor.

After spending all of her girlhood fervently wishing she could run away from home— she’d actually done it.

You’re like a gift,” he said, his voice rough. “All wrapped up for someone else. A man can’t look at you, but think of loosing those bows, one by one.