“Right,” I say stiffly. “I’m afraid I’ll have to decline.”
“Oh, come on, Theo. You don’t want a wife who might poison you at breakfast?”
I push the whiskey away. “I knew I shouldn’t have accepted liquor from you.”
Her eyes light. “Far too obvious. I’d need it to look like an accident.”
An unwilling smile tugs at my lips in response. I’d forgotten how funny Cat is. “I don’t think we’d suit, princess, but thank you.”
“I’m devastated,” she says dryly. She’s nearly smiling. “Imagine being married to me. We’d kill each other.”
Fuck. We would. We’d kill each other, and I imagine tension like what I feel now spilling over into the bedroom. Cat clawing at my back. Me wrenching her arms behind her and driving into her. I swallow thickly.
“Yeah,” I say hoarsely. “We’d kill each other.”
She leans back against the wall and smiles, a real one. It’s like being stabbed in the chest. “Try not to look so ill at the prospect of marrying me. I’m insulted.”
“You’re really looking for a husband,” I say. She must not be looking very hard. She’s beautiful and wealthy. Who wouldn’t say yes?
“Yeah. Know anyone who’s willing to marry me for a year? I need a husband by Friday, and my main skills include pouring beers and doing my own nails.”
“An impressive résumé. I’ll see what I can do.”
“I just need some sucker willing to give me a year of his undying devotion,” she says. “Why is that so hard to find?” She frowns. “Maybe I’ll throw the estate in France into the mix. It’ll be mine after all this.”
“You have an estate?” Wheels are grinding slowly in my head.
“And an ancestral home in the UK. My great-great-grandfather was an earl, you know.”
“He was? I didn’t know that.” Cat’s family is pretentious and wealthy, but I didn’t realize they were aristocrats.
She waves a hand in the air. “Yes. It’s all very silly. He was an asshole. But my father likes to pretend he wasn’t because it helps his European investments. There’s a courtesy title in there somewhere for my future husband. The UK home is a moldering piece of crap. The French estate is a much sweeter prize. Someone will want it.”
“Shouldn’t be too hard to find a husband, then.” Especially with a courtesy title and all those properties. “You could pay him off and have him live abroad.”
“I know. The only problem is that every man I talk to isn’t brave enough to stand up to my father.”
“Fuck your father,” I say.
“Yeah, fuck my father,” she says, grabbing the whiskey bottle and taking a swig. She shudders as she swallows.
Surprise keeps me rooted to the seat. It almost sounds like Cat hates her father as much as I do.
She replaces the bottle on the shelf. “Well, Theo. I wish I could say this was a pleasure. I have to get going. I’ve got six more nights of freedom and an ancestral home to bargain away.”
She has an ancestral home. She needs a husband. The Peterson name is gold in most circles. Her grandfather was an earl. She hates her father.
Something isn’t right here.
Christine’s words sound in my ears, then Cole’s.
Do you have a woman you can trot out?
Better, show them you fit in.
She’s almost at the base of the stairs leading to the main bar. Where she’s going to marry a stranger. Maybe that guy who was sneaking glances at her from the corner table.
“I’ll do it,” I say. She stops, turns to me, and cocks her head.