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A tiny, adorable grimace. “There was a chance you’d leave the keys in the ignition.”
“It’s push to start, and the fob is in my pocket.”
Catherine sighs. “Then I’d have run some more.”
“You can run faster than an SUV?”
“I can move around in the forest better than an SUV. And better than you, apparently.”
Even standing there in the shadows and the pine needles and the dirt, I catch a breath of that hopeful springtime scent. What little I can see of Catherine Bettencourt is better.
“I literally found you four seconds into your escape plot. Am I really so difficult to look at that you won’t ride into the city with me?”
A snort. “You’re cute, but you’re absolutely insufferable.”
“So you think I’m hot.”
“I saidcute.”
“I just wanted to hear it again.”
Catherine tips her head back and groans, and I could murder this park for being so poorly lit. I’m only getting glimpses of the curve of her throat. Flashes of the moonlight in her hair. It’s insulting. I want to be able to look at her the way God intended. In full sunlight, or at least indoors, where we have access to lamps.
She picks her head up and squares her shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere with you. If my father wanted me to marry you, that probably means you’re a horrible person. And nothing you’ve done in my presence has made me think otherwise.”
“Pardonme. When we met at the gala, we had a perfectly lovely exchange. You were blushing. Youwantedme, and let’s be frank, Catherine. I could’ve had you.”
“Sure, I thought you were hot—”
“I knew it.”
“—but I saw right through all your—your handsome smiles, and your flattery, and your cute little wink. You acted like you might be interested in me, and—”
“Who said I wasn’t interested?”
“It wasn’t real. You did the same things to everyone else in the room. All the women who were there fell for you, and half of the men.”
“It was more than half.”
Now the shadows make her glare nearly intimidating. “You’re conceited, and you don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m never going to marry you. I neverwouldhave married you, no matter how many times my father caned me.”
All the blood rushes out of my face, leaving behind cold emptiness and starting an angry fire at the pit of my gut. “He caned you?”
“What did you think the cane was for? A bad knee? A historical prop? Of course he caned me. That’s what he does.”
That’s what he does.“It wasn’t the first time.”
“You’re catching on, then.”
“Okay.” Gently, delicately, I release my grip on the branch so it doesn’t rebound into my eyes. Or Catherine’s. “All right. I understand.”
My SUV is the quickest way back to the Bettencourt estate, so I start walking. I’ll leave Catherine in the car a safe distance away while I do it, and be back to her in less time than it would take to drink a cup of tea.
“Where are you going?” Her call is soft. Farther behind me than I expected. I’m walking fast.
“I’ll be no time at all. Stay hidden, would you? I told your sister I wouldn’t hurt you, but there’s no accounting for what a vagabond or otherwise desperate person might do.”
“Avagabond?” A rustle of branches says she’s out of the trees. “Tell me where you’re going.”
