Page 35 of Truly, Madly, Daring

“It’s humiliating.”

“I warned you,” he growled. “I told you to stay away.”

“I know!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in frustration. “I know it was and I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

Cat’s breath caught at the look in his eyes.

“You think me a halfwit, do you? You think I don’t know that you’re plotting and planning? You still think you can reform me, that there’s some happy ending to be found at the end of this debacle. Don’t you?”

Cat jumped at the fierce demand, her cheeks flaming.

He snorted. “Well, you can’t, and there’s not.”

“Why?” she exclaimed, throwing caution to the wind and stalking towards him. “Why not? Are you really so wicked and dissipated as that? Don’t you want anything for yourself? Won’t you even let me be a friend… a companion to you?”

“Why won’t you just leave me be?” he exploded, the sound of his anger making her jolt with shock. It vibrated through her, undermining her composure.

“Because I don’t believe it’s really what you want,” she managed, though her voice trembled, and her eyes burned. She would not cry, she told herself. Under no circumstances would he see her cry.

“Holy God, why did your father not lock you up until he’d found a suitable husband?” he demanded, looking so bewildered she almost laughed.

“Because you can’t keep the things you love in a cage and expect them to thrive. He knows it and so do I. I’m not trying to put you in a cage either, my lord. I never meant to trap you, I promise you I did not, but won’t you give me a chance? Just a chance, a small place in your life. I do not ask for much.”

He made a sound of disgust. “Ah, yes, a small place in my life, which would satisfy you for precisely ten minutes, after which time you would gently insinuate yourself into the cracks and crevices of my world, taking root and taking over and always bloody well there. No! I won’t have it.”

“Am I such a horrific prospect?” she asked tightly.

Kilbane looked at her, his expression hard. “If you’d wanted a man who would write sonnets to your beauty and offer you his heart on a platter, you have made rather a devastating mistake.”

“That is hardly what I asked,” she retorted angrily.

Cat walked away to the window and looked out. It was raining, which seemed fitting for her mood and the occasion. Wasn’t rain on your wedding day supposed to be lucky? No doubt a lie they told despondent brides to make them feel better. She took a deep breath and let it out again. Anger would get her nowhere, she must try to find some small shred of hope, some tiny bit of leverage, and then he would discover how right he was. For she would insinuate her way into his world, by stealth if she must, but she would find a way, like ivy getting a hold upon the foundation stone of a castle, she would invade by degrees. If she were patient, if she came to understand him, one day she might know how to reach his heart. One day, he might give her a chance. “So, you’re going to France, then?”

“Yes.”

She nodded. “Very well. I will let you go, and I will make no fuss about it.”

“How very good of you,” he said dryly. “Do you actually think you could stop me?”

“No, but my father could,” she replied, turning to face him.

Kilbane went very still.

“I could make your life very difficult indeed, if I chose to.”

His face darkened, and it took everything she had not to flinch, not to gasp and take a step back.

“Don’t,” he warned her. “Don’t play games with me, child. You won’t enjoy losing.”

Cat put up her chin, heart thundering. “I am not a child, and I don’t play games with you. I offer you a trade. A peaceful life in return for one small concession.”

“One fucking concession!” he exclaimed, laughing bitterly. “Good God, you’ve got a title, houses, money enough to buy a small country. What the devil else do you want?”

“Your address,” she said, hating that her voice sounded so breathless and afraid. “I want to always know where you are, s-so that I might write to you.”

“So you might descend upon my household and play lady of the manor, you mean,” he said in disgust.