I love you," she murmured.

The words ... it was as though an entire sun had exploded in his chest.

He'd been ridiculous. His thrashing thoughts, his grand confusion and torment and helplessness -- it was only love, had always been love, he supposed. It was no precipice he stood at, or rather precipices have little meaning when one finally acknowledges that one has wings. Connor stepped off.

"I love you, too."

Such grave, inadequate words for what it was he felt.

Julie Anne Long

Stichwörter: historical-romance the-runaway-duke

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