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.
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London, 1815
Maeve Langston's aversion to the opposite sex has...
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LMFAO, I'M KIDDING! PLEASE, DON'T HATE ME!
I got the idea because of one of bleedingdaysie's comments 🤣💀
The story picks up where we left it off. Sorry for the fright 😂❤️
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For months now, Maeve had wanted nothing more than to leave London and go back to the family's estate up north. The city, its noises, its smells, its crowd... She'd been eager to escape it, to be free of its oppressive atmosphere. But then Lucian had come into her life, and everything had changed. To be with him, to entertain their affair, she'd be willing to endure the capital until the end of time.
Now that she was back in the countryside, though, she'd been nothing but gloomy and emotional. It had been nearly three weeks, and nothing helped to improve her mood. Her sister was still cross with her, and even her parents' demeanor wasn't entirely normal where she was concerned. In all honesty, she couldn't even blame them for it. She hadn't forgiven herself for her grave mistake, so why should they?
Maeve had always prided herself on being a strong, quick-witted, and independent woman. One that would never allow herself to be fooled by a man.
But Lucian wasn't just a man. He'd never been just a man. She'd known that much from the moment she'd seen him, three years ago. One by one, he'd torn apart the walls she'd built around herself, using his piercing green eyes, raspy words, and surprisingly moving personality. Because she'd trusted him with everything she had, she'd stood before him, bared, stripped of it all — metaphorically and physically. For him and only him, she'd been willing to give some of herself. All of herself.
