Ah, Evie,” she heard him say softly, “I must have a heart, after all…because right now it aches like the devil.” “Only your heart?” she asked ingenuously, making him laugh. He lowered her to the bed, his eyes sparkling wickedly. “Also a few other things,” he conceded. “And as my wife, it’s your duty to ease all my aches.
You’re far too prickly tempered to be a mistress. You’re far better suited as a wife.
Christopher heard a pair of women gossiping nearby, whispering in disapproving undertones. "... Ramsey was found flirting in a corner with a woman. They had to drag him away from her." "Who was it?" "His own wife." "Oh, dear.
A slow smile had curved St. Vincent's lips. 'Wives are a different case altogether. They require a great deal of effort but the rewards are substantial. I highly recommend wives. Especially one's own.
Rohan, one of us is an unmarried man with superior mathematical abilities and no prospects for the evening. The other is a confirmed lecher in an amorous mood, with a willing and nubile young wife waiting at home. Who do you think should do the damned account books?" And, with a nonchalant wave, St. Vincent had left the office.
A lack of desire is something I've never experienced. I'd have to be on my deathbed before I stopped wanting-- no, never mind, I was on my deathbed in the not-too-distant past, and even then I had the devil's own itch for my wife." -Sebastian, Lord St. Vincent
With all due respect," Christopher muttered, "this conversation is leading nowhere. At least one of you should point out that Beatrix deserves a better man." "That's what I said about my wife," Leo remarked. "Which is why I married her before she could find one.
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