Page 121 of Married to a Frozen Duke
"Complete horror. My ancestors are probably furious. Generations of proper Montclaires, and here I am, drunk on excellent brandy, with my Coleridge wife in my lap, having feelings all over the place."
"All over the place?"
"Everywhere. It's very messy. I don't like mess usually, but this is... acceptable mess."
"High praise."
"The highest." He pulled her closer, burying his face in her neck. "You smell like soap and something flowery."
"Lavender."
"Lavender. Of course. You've made me actually notice scents now too. Another annoying development."
"Should I start keeping a list of all the ways I'm annoying you?"
"It would be a very long list. You're exceptionally annoying. Beautifully annoying. Perfectly annoying."
"You're not making sense anymore."
"I stopped making sense three brandies ago. Now I'm just talking because apparently, I do that when I'm drunk. I can't seem to stop."
"I like it. You should be drunk more often."
"Terrible idea. I'd say even more things I shouldn't." But he was smiling as he said it, that rare, genuine smile she'd only seen glimpses of before. "Like how I've wanted to do this since the inn."
He kissed her neck, and Ophelia shivered.
"Or how I think about you constantly, even when I'm trying very hard not to."
Another kiss, just below her ear.
"Or how terrified I am that I'm going to ruin this somehow because ruining things is what I do with feelings."
"Alexander," she said softly, pulling back to look at him. "You're not going to ruin this."
"How do you know?"
"Because we've already survived the worst. A disastrous wedding, horrible first weeks, my brothers' visit, tonight's catastrophe. We're apparently very good at surviving things together."
"Together," he repeated, as if testing the word. "I'm not good attogether."
"You were excellent attogethertonight. We worked perfectly as a team."
"We did, didn't we?" He looked genuinely surprised. "That was... unexpected."
"Maybe we should try it more often. Working together instead of against each other."
"Radical idea."
"I'm full of radical ideas. It's the merchant blood."
"Don't." His tone suddenly serious despite the slurred edges. "Don't do that. Don't diminish yourself."
"I was jesting."
"I know, but... don't. You're not less than me. Different, yes. But not less. Never less."
The sincerity in his voice, even drunk, made her throat tight with emotion. "You really mean that."
