"But why wouldn't you want to marry Emmeline?" Amelia asked, bemused. "She's a Hawthorne."
Or at the very least, Amelia would bet every dime and dollar she had that if Caleb Walton was given the chance, he would jump at it, Kelsie Friesent be damned. Marrying a Hawthorne meant marrying into Solara royalty― they certainly were richer than many royal families across the world.
Aiden made a face. "Marrying Emmeline is akin to suicide," he said. "I don't know if you've noticed, but Emmeline Hawthorne is such a stick in the mud that she has not a single fun bone in her body. Fucking her is equivalent to trying to stick it into a dead fish― not something enjoyable to experience."
This time, it was Amelia's turn to wince. Every drop of blood in her body curdled at the vivid description.
"Thank you but no thank you," Amelia said. "I did not need that visualization of what my cousin could possibly be like in bed."
