Page 20 of Loving a Beast of a Marquess
He glanced away. “Your sister is a sweet girl,” he repeated gruffly. “She will make an excellent wife.”
“That is not what I asked.”
“What would you rather?” he snapped. “Would you prefer for me to ask for your hand instead?”
Her expression slackened, and her eyes widened before they narrowed again. “I would not do you the honor of accepting,” she spat.
He had not expected anything different, but the words still landed on him with all the sting of a whip’s lash. “Very well,” he said, hating himself even as he said it, “then I shall pursue your sister.”
“Do not,” she warned. “Do not pit yourself up against me.”
He glanced down at her, at the full body largely concealed by the cloak wrapped around her shoulders. His member twitched again; it had been too long since he’d last been with a woman if merely the sight of her could make him respond in such a way.
“Perhaps I should like to pit myself against you,” he said, his mouth curling in a sardonic smile. Considering their situation, and the fact that she would not have accepted a marriage proposal from him even if he had asked, there was no chance of him exploring the lush curves she kept hidden under that dress—and, to his relief, no chance for her to see the way the fire had ravaged his body.
“You shall not prevail,” she said. “Not when it comes to my sister. I will not allow it.”
“Why?” he asked mockingly. “Are you going to arrange another marriage of convenience for her as you tried to do for yourself with that boy?”
“Mr. Linfield is a perfectly nice gentleman,” she fired back.
He should step away from the conversation and allow her to have this. But the way she defended that boy—barely out of the schoolroom and with no business looking for a wife—fired his temper enough he could not hold back his tongue as he said, “Surely you did not think you would actually prevail upon him to marry you.”
She raised her chin, a glint in her eye warning she would not accept this lightly. “And what would you know of the subject?”
“Because I was a boy of one-and-twenty once.” He did not prowl forward as he could have done, and that was a relief—if he had done so, she might have backed away once again, and although fury tumbled through his thoughts, he did not want to scare her. “He has no intention of marrying.”
“But his mother—”
“Cannot force him to the altar.”
She swallowed hard then folded her arms as she looked at him. “You cannot be much older.”
“There is a great difference between one-and-twenty and six-and-twenty.”
She frowned, lips parted as she searched his face, but whatever she found there merely made her tighten her shoulders. “You cannot know such things for sure.”
“Can I not?” He raised a brow. “Pray remind me—what was his reaction when he thought you were proposing?”
He saw her think back and knew the moment she recalled Mr. Linfield’s panic. Her bottom lip jutted out, and he wanted to run. He wanted to do a lot of things, but he shoved them to the back of his head where they belonged. He could act on none of them.
“Very well,” she said sharply. “If you chase away all my suitors, whom should I marry?”
“That,” he said, a smile he didn’t feel crossing his face, “is not for me to decide.”
She glared at him for a moment longer before storming back to the house, her fists clenched by her sides.
“Congratulations, Zac,” he muttered to himself, turning back around and continuing his pacing through the gardens. “You could not have handled that more poorly.”
At least, he thought viciously, he could not be worried about losing her good opinion; he had never had it in the beginning.
ChapterNine
Evangeline scowled at the book in her hands. Two days had passed since her confrontation with the Marquess in the gardens, and she still had no idea what was to be done. The blessing was that Emily, thus far, was unaware of his intentions.
Although, she reflected grimly, there was little chance shecouldbe. After all, he had done nothing to woo her sister. He had brought her no flowers and had offered her no gifts or compliments or attention beyond basic courtesy. And eventhatshe was surprised he offered Emily—or anyone.
Would you prefer for me to ask for your hand instead?
