She poked him in the center of his chest with two fingers to punctuate her words.
“You are an unfeeling”—poke —“traitorous”—poke—“mistrusting”—poke—“rude”—poke —“booby!”
Every poke turned him mortal, but Lord Maccon didn’t seem to mind it in the least. Instead he grabbed the hand that poked him and brought it to his lips. “You put it very well, my love.
Well, my love,” said Alexia with prodigious daring to Lord Maccon, “shall we?” The earl started to move forward and then stopped abruptly and looked down at her, not moving at all. “Am I?”
“Are you what?” She peeked up at him through her tangled hair, pretending confusion. There was no possible way she was going to make this easy for him.
“Your love?”
“Well, you are a werewolf, Scottish, naked, and covered in blood, and I am still holding your hand.”
He sighed in evident relief. “Good. That is settled, then.
As with most things in life, Lady Maccon preferred the civilized exterior to the dark underbelly (with the exception of pork products, of course.)
Gail CarrigerAt such close range, even she could hit a vampire full force in the shoulder, surprising him considerably. He paused in his attack. “Well, my word! You can’t threaten me, you’re pregnant!
Gail CarrigerAlexia had found pregnancy relatively manageable, up to a point. That point having been some three weeks ago, at which juncture her natural reserves of control gave way to sentimentality. Only yesterday she had ended breakfast sobbing over the fried eggs because they looked at her funny. The pack had spent a good half hour trying to find a way to pacify her. Her husband was so worried he looked to start crying himself.
Gail CarrigerFelicity grimaced in agreement. “No, you are perfectly correct. I did not realize how vital the approbation of one’s butler is in allowing for nocturnal autonomy.
Gail CarrigerI miss him, my lady.”
“Well, he is now living adjacent. You can hardly miss him all that much.”
“True. But we are no longer compatible—I am a werewolf; he is a vampire.”
“So?”
“So we cannot dance the same dance we used to.”
Biffy was so sweet when he tried to be circumspect. Alexia shook her head at him.
“Biffy, and I mean this in the kindest way possible: then you should change the music.”
“Very good, my lady.
Spin the parasol three times and repeat after me: I shield in the name of fashion. I accessorize for one and all. Pursuit of truth is my passion. This I vow by the great parasol.
Gail CarrigerLord Maccon, might we have words on the proper tying of a cravat? For my sanity’s sake?
Lord Maccon was nonplussed. Professor Lyall, on the other hand, was pained. “I do what I can.” Lord Akeldama looked at him, pity in his eyes. “You are a brave man.
Oh, Professor Lyall, are you making a funny? It doesn’t suit you.”
The sandy-haired Beta gave Lady Maccon a dour look. “I am exploring new personality avenues.”
“Well, stop it.”
“Yes, my lady.
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