"Yeah, well, I used to," Marc grumbled. "Was easier. Didn't fuck the same bloke twice, either. No strings. Didn't mean anything. S'changed. Can't even make m'self do it, even if I hadn't said I wouldn't." He wasn't even going to touch the concept of Chambers and Summerby. Love was an idiotic emotion, causing trouble.
"Gossip can hurt, Pans," he said sharply. "Isolde likes society. She deserves not to have people looking at her and talking about how I'm fucking someone else. It doesn't matter what I want anyroad. I think he's done with it. Some shite about how it's too fucking dangerous. And there's this girl, but she's fucking possessive. Perfect fucking world, he'd get married, I'd be married, live in the fucking manor because Merlin knows we've more than enough room. Fuck, there's another entire wing. No one would fucking have to know about any of the other shite, except kids talk. You know that as well as I do."
And that was more than he'd fucking said to anyone but Lavender, and she'd thrown it back in his face. Even the woman who said he ought to just be fucking gay instead of married thought his idea was mad. He couldn't look at Pansy, his jaw tight and angry as he yanked his shirt back on.