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448 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published August 27, 2019
How very cruel it was to fear and crave something - someone - in equal measure.GAH! There was nothing I didn't LOVE here. This book exceeded ALL my expectations:
It didn't seem ludicrous to imagine that he was invulnerable, a bulwark against all that would do her harm.And Piers, the broody Duke of Redmayne had me swooning. He proved, again and again, his depth of character went far beyond the scarred, savage facade he showed the ton.
The instinct to protect his woman from any and all threats had become the strongest of all.No word of a lie, every single scene was infused with heart and soul and emotion. Kerrigan Byrne knocked me off my feet with her talent . . .
All the words spoken and unspoken between them hovered in the sea air until they fell at their feet like shards of shattered glass.The conversations were deep and meaningful, Piers and Alexandra's actions remained true to their characters, and the author's incredible sense of romance left me a hot mess.
Among the mess, Alexandra's confidence might have been found. Along with her heart.
Two restless souls that would never be still. And would no longer have to wander alone.I wholeheartedly recommend!
Kissing Piers Gedrick Atherton was like standing at the mouth of the Nile and realizing the scope of it was beyond comprehension. That the beauty matched the peril, and in the awe-inspiring danger existed its own strange appeal.
We are eternally bound,” she repeated. “By secrets, blood, and pain.”
“And by trust, passion, and revenge,”
His entire life, he’d never quite had a sense of belonging. Had never known what the words “home” or “family” meant, or why they meant so much to others. Until here. Until her.
“Didn’t you say all men are beasts?”
“Of course we are.” His knuckle caressed her cheek. “It’s why we need a beauty like you to temper us. To tame us. To teach us how to appreciate something delicate.”
“My appearance, my manners, and my voice may be harsh, Alexandra, but I promise you my hands will never be anything but gentle with you.”
Now that she’d fallen in love with her husband. No, not fallen, per se. But drifted into it in barely recognizable shifts of her heart. He’d become necessary. A curator of healing and joy.
“What do I do?” she pleaded.
“Hold on to me, Alexandra,” he whispered, folding her against him. “Just be here. Just be mine.”
They were perfect for each other. Two restless souls that would never be still.
And would no longer have to wander alone.
Could she be real? Did he hold in his arms the rarest of creatures? A woman of substance. Of integrity? One who tended more carefully to the capacity of her heart than to her coiffure? One who thrived on intellect and honor and genuine interaction rather than the empty endorsements of her peers?
“I sometimes forget…” he murmured as though to himself. Alexandra swallowed layers of nerves before she could speak.
“Forget what?”
“How beautiful you are.” He undid his cravat as he traveled the length of the sitting room. “Then I see you and realize that memory cannot compare to reality. I’m left as breathless as the first time we met.”
“I—I don’t know how to please you,” she confessed, suddenly daunted. He gazed up at her with a patience so tender, so genuine, it released a swell of emotion inside her.
"Don’t you know by now, Alexandra, that everything you do pleases me? To look at you pleases me. To touch and kiss you pleases me. The scent and taste and shape of you is the greatest pleasure I’ve ever known. Anything you do beyond that…”
He knew, then and there, that he’d walk through hell for her. He’d slay dragons and face entire armies. He’d circumnavigate the globe to lay her foes at her feet.
“You’ll meet him tomorrow, and see for yourselves how incredibly ill-suited we are. Were we to marry, our life would be years and years of senseless battles, him trying to put me in my place, and me trying to murder him in his sleep.
I’m telling you, I won’t do it.”
“Men like me can just tell.” Her heart kicked against her lungs, evoking shorter, shallower breaths. “Men like you?”
“Hunters.” The vibration of the word spread down her spine and unfurled in the most alarming places. “Your lips, innocent as they are, beg to be kissed whenever I am near. Your tongue moistens them. Your teeth worry at them. And when I stare, as I am doing now, they soften and part, like an invitation…”