Despite the unshakable attraction between them, Maeve and Lucian are uninterested in love and marriage; especially since they hate one another and couldn't think of a worse match.
• • •
London, 1815
Maeve Langston's aversion to the opposite sex has...
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Maeve was impressed by how perfectly everything was unfolding.
The day after Lucian had asked her to marry him, on Monday, he had come to her house to officially ask for her hand and give her the ring. Her parents had accepted without a single question, and she couldn't help but feel like they had seen it coming. Her mother seemed delighted by the engagement, and her father — although downhearted to know another one of his girls was to marry — was mostly happy for her.
Ailia had accepted to share her wedding day instantly. As twins, they'd always tried to match each other's milestones, to be on the same level. Them getting married at the same time meant a lot for both of them. Maeve was relieved to know she and Lucian wouldn't have to go through the fastidious organization of their own wedding. As he'd said, the faster the better, and they really couldn't have done it faster than that.
Since their affection for one another was now official, Maeve had insisted their illicit nocturnal visits should stop. There was no reason to take any more risks when they would be married so soon. It was a very rational resolution they had both agreed on, but she already regretted it and knew he did too.
It was now Friday, and she was at a dinner party with her parents, her sister, and Anita, whom they had invited. Lucian was also here, accompanied by Delawney, and she was having a hard time not throwing herself at him.
She still couldn't believe her luck. The engagement hadn't even been announced yet, but she knew this would be better than anything she could have imagined. A lifetime with Lucian by her side, satisfying her every need and covering her with love.
Love...
Sometimes, like now, she had doubts, and she wished he could tell her about his feelings. She couldn't help but worry and be anxious about such things. She had told him she loved him on numerous occasions, but he had never returned the words. Was it an omission on his part, or was it simply because her feelings weren't returned?
He had never actually told her he loved her. Deep down, she suspected he did. It showed in each of his kisses, each of his gazes. She was almost certain of it, but a part of her couldn't help but wonder if it wasn't just lust?
No. He loved her. He did. As much as she loved him.
She looked at her fiancé, on the other side of the room, talking to the host with Delawney, and she caught him staring at her. They exchanged a complicit smile, and she returned her attention to her sister and Anita.
"So," her friend asked, "have you decided where you would spend your honeymoon?"
Maeve smiled, remembering that discussion she'd had with Lucian. "Given how we intend to spend it, we are certainly not going all the way to Italy," she joked, teasing Ailia. Her sister shrugged her shoulders, half-amused, half-embarrassed, and Anita let out a small laugh. "We have decided to spend a month in one of his houses in the countryside. And maybe later on, when we have settled down, a trip somewhere in Europe, or why not the Americas."
