Page 59 of Married to a Frozen Duke
"This is talking?"
"What would you call it?"
"Mutual suffering."
She laughed again, that little snorting sound. "You're not actually suffering right now, are you?"
He considered. His clothes were ruined, his dignity destroyed, his wedding night was a disaster, and he was lying in an inn with a Coleridge. But... he was warm, dry, fed, and surprisingly not miserable.
"No," he admitted. "Not actively suffering."
"See? Progress."
"You're very focused on progress."
"The alternative is despair, and that seems unproductive."
"You're a very strange person."
"Thank you."
"That wasn't a compliment."
"I'm choosing to take it as one."
"You can't just decide compliments."
"Why not? You decided I was a disaster before you met me."
"You proved me right."
"Did I? I've been quite helpful today, actually."
He thought about it. She had been helpful. She'd managed the innkeeper, kept her composure despite everything, made their situation bearable with surprising grace.
"You have," he conceded.
"Was that a compliment?"
"An observation."
"I'm choosing to take it as a compliment."
"You're impossible."
"I'm a Coleridge. We're all impossible."
"That's the truest thing you've said all day."
She turned to face him, and suddenly they were much closer than intended, both having moved toward the center of the bed without realizing it.
"We should sleep," she said quietly.
"Yes."
Neither moved.
"This is strange," she said.
