Page 12 of Stranded with His Runaway Bride

‘Please.’

He hung his jacket and sash on a chair back and placed the medal bar on the table while she hunted out a second glass and filled it from the tap. Before she could set it on the table, he reached out to take it from her hand, making a point of brushing her fingers. Her little shudder pleased him.

She stepped back and folded her arms across her chest.

‘What do you think is happening back in the capital?’

‘They’ve been told the wedding is postponed because the bride is indisposed. Stuck in her bathroom.’

Her eyes flew wide. ‘You told themwhat? I’ll never live that down!’

‘Whereas jilting your groom will cover you in glory?’

She lifted her chin. ‘There’s something romantic and noble about fleeing from an unwanted wedding.’

‘Not when you’re the one left dealing with the fallout.’

‘So what happens now?’ she asked.

He sat. Draped an arm along the back of the seat next to him, crossed one long leg over the other. Relaxed and apparently unconcerned that a congregation packed with high-born guests and dignitaries waited on his pleasure in St Peter’s cathedral.

He took a long, slow drink of his water and watched as Violetta swallowed convulsively.

‘What would you like to happen?’ he said.

‘You expect me to believe that what I want will really matter in the long run? No man has ever cared about what I want.’

‘I assure you,thisman has the most acute interest in what you want right now.’

She studied him. Saying nothing as she collected his empty glass, rinsed and dried it and returned it to the cupboard.

She squared her shoulders, a gesture he was coming to recognise as her plucking up her courage, and turned to face him.

‘Perhaps this wouldn’t have happened if we’d got to know each other a little better. Maybe we could do that now? What I’ve really wanted is the chance to get to know you better.’

Uh-oh. He’d heard that before. Usually from a woman when she wanted to cling and he didn’t do clingy. He didn’t do getting to know anyone better. That wasn’t his way, not any more.

Once they were safely wed, he’d make it clear that a cosy intimacy wouldn’t be high on his list of priorities.

Certain she wasn’t being honest with him and wanting to probe for the truth, he asked, ‘Would there be any point if we’re not getting married?’

‘Maybe you could, you know...change my mind?’

Another lie. Why didn’t she just ask to be taken home? It was obvious she was stalling, but to what end?

For now, he’d go along with her. He studied the small pert breasts, the neat waist, and the maidenly flush creeping across her cheeks.

‘You won’t do it like that.’ Her hand was back at her throat. ‘I’m not about to be seduced by your charms. Because so far, I’ve yet to see any.’

He shouldn’t have been insulted but her blunt dismissal of him as an adult, sexual being was offensive.

‘You haven’t seen any because I’ve yet to use them. Once I do, you’ll be thinking differently.’

Her mouth tightened. ‘So sure of your own worth. But you forget, unlike all your other conquests I’m not impressed by your title and your wealth. I have enough of those of my own. And on those few occasions we did meet, you were so self-absorbed how could I believe you’d really mean any of it now?’

His gut twisted on a rare moment of shame. Hadn’t he been on the receiving end of just that kind of behaviour himself in the past? From his father. He shared the man’s genes but that was where he wanted all similarities to end.

She’d drifted to his jacket hanging over the chair back and was studying the insignia still attached. She reached out to stroke the gold badge, shaped in a pair of wings, that had been pinned to his right breast.

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