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Ranelaw looked at Cassie. Really looked for the first time. She appeared neither dazzled nor frightened.
Instead she looked . . . disappointed.
“I’ve pursued you all season.” How was it that he felt at a loss? A few moments ago, he’d been master of his world.
“Yes,” she said impatiently. “But you want Toni.”
He jerked so sharply that the horses sidled and flung up their heads. He soothed them as his mind churned with bewilderment.
“Your chaperone?” He tried to sound as if the idea was ludicrous.
Her voice remained calm. “Yes, my chaperone. Lady Antonia Hilliard. As you well know. The woman who makes you light up like a candle. The woman you can hardly take your eyes off, no matter how much sham flirting you do elsewhere.”
“I was using her to get to you.” He already knew
this remarkable young lady wouldn’t believe a word. Why should she? She was right. The only woman who interested him was the woman who turned his nights to fire and who had deserted him four days ago.
Cassie raised her eyebrows in open skepticism. “No, you weren’t.” Her voice developed an edge. “Surely you know this stupid prank puts her forever out of reach. What on earth are you thinking, my lord?”
“She’s not for me.” A fissure set up in the ice encasing him. He struggled to mend it. He loved that ice. It stopped him feeling. It stopped him yearning. He didn’t want to think about losing Antonia. He wanted to think about avenging poor, innocent Eloise.
If he couldn’t manage that, he didn’t want to think at all.
“Not after this, she’s not.” Cassie spoke with real passion. “She’s perfect for you. And you can restore her rightful standing.”
He stared at the girl in shock. Suddenly the whole sequence of encounters with Cassie made bizarre sense. She hadn’t been encouraging him. Or at least she’d only encouraged him so Antonia would continue to cavil at his unsuitable interest. “My God, you were matchmaking.”
Cassie didn’t even have the grace to blush. “I think . . . thought you were the man for her. She’s been alone too long. You made her . . . alive.”
Blast her, he didn’t want to hear about Antonia coming alive. It stirred too many memories. He closed his eyes and automatically tightened his hold on the girl’s arm. Not because he feared her escape but because every muscle clenched in denial of the truth she spoke.
“She’s not for me,” he repeated through stiff lips, and inwardly winced as with a silent scream, a great block of ice crashed from his soul into the murky ocean of his life.
“If you take me back now, she mightn’t discover what you’ve done.”
Now his victim proffered advice to save his sorry arse. Worse, a tiny, obscure corner of his soul heeded her.
None of which made him consider changing his mind. Even if he returned Cassie safe and sound, Antonia was still lost to him. He owed allegiance only to his sister. He’d pursue his plan to the end, no matter that his conscience kicked like a wild horse under its first saddle.
He forced himself to lie. “You mistake my interest in your chaperone.”
Disdain clouded her face. “If you insist.”
He frowned. “You should be afraid. Hell, you should be bloody terrified.”
“I could run away,” she pointed out with almost scientific detachment. “It’s not as if you have an army of henchmen to stop me.”
He cast a speaking glance over their surroundings. There was a village a few miles back. Another a few miles ahead. Neither close enough to offer shelter.
“And go where? You have no money. You’re wearing silly shoes that will carry you about a hundred yards before they disintegrate. You have no escort. I promise, you’re safer with me than with a mob of yokels.”
Her lips tightened. “Not if you intend to rape me.”
He realized that beneath her bravado, she was frightened. He stifled the unwelcome insight that he turned into the sort of degenerate who pulled wings off flies and set fire to kittens’ tails.
At least he could put the Demarest chit’s mind at rest on one count. When he’d plotted this abduction, he’d sworn to wring every last ounce of fear and misery from his victim. In recent weeks, his taste for theatrics had waned. “I’m not going to rape you.”
“You probably imagine I’m willing,” she snapped back. “You have an inflated idea of your attractions, my lord.”
