Lady Guinevere and the Rogue with a Brogue - Julie Johnstone Page 0,22
more, it occurred to him that she had changed in another way.
“Ye’re quite an accomplished dancer now,” he noted.
Her eyebrows drew together. “You sound oddly regretful. Why is that? Were you hoping to find me the bumbling fool so that you could laugh at my abilities?”
Her seeming vulnerability took him off guard. “Guin—”
“Lady Guinevere, if you please,” she said, tart as a lemon.
He clenched his teeth together at her highhanded tone. Maybe this was the true Guinevere, the one she’d hidden from him before in order to draw him into her web. Or had he walked into her web voluntarily? “Is it Lady Guinevere to Kilgore?” he bit out. He sounded like a jealous husband. Damn it all. He should stop this now, but the desire to push forward was too great.
“You are beyond the pale!” she gasped.
“Aye, aye, I am. Does that scare ye? Do I scare ye?”
What in God’s name had taken hold of him? He’d lost his mind, and it had only taken half a waltz for it to happen. He wanted Guinevere to show some sort of genuine emotion. Regret would be good. He’d been trapped in a marriage with a woman he did not care for because of Guinevere, after all. She had jaded him to women forever. It would be damnably nice to hear her admit the truth and maybe even apologize.
“You do not scare me, Your Grace.”
Her civil tone made him want to let out a string of curses.
“I know exactly who you are now, and to answer your question, I am ‘Guin’ to Kilgore. Not,” she said, all haughty disdain, “that my personal life is any of your affair. I cannot fathom why you even care—unless, of course, there is someone new you mean to thwart by using me once more.”
The music ended on her last words, and she tried to pull away from him, but he pressed a palm to the small of her back to hold her in place. “Use ye? It seems the years have muddled yer memory.”
Her gaze skittered around them, and she paled considerably. They were drawing attention, but he didn’t give a damn.
She lifted her chin in a show of impressive pride. “We shall have to agree to disagree, you louse. Oh, pardon, I mean, Your Grace. Now if you will please release me, people are beginning to stare, and I cannot afford to become fodder for the gossips because of you again. I have my future, as well as my sisters’ futures to consider.”
Even as his anger ticked to a degree he had not experienced since the night he’d seen her with Kilgore on the balcony, he released her, well aware what she said about her future was true. She turned away, and though he should have stayed silent and simply let her depart, he could not seem to manage it. He wanted to warn her and injure her at the same time. It was bloody awful, and he knew it. “I would not continue to pin yer hopes on Kilgore, if I were ye. The marquess is not interested in marriage. I should think it time ye quit dwelling in a fool’s paradise.”
Her eyes blazed magnificently. “We circle back to Romeo and Juliet, I see,” she said, matter-of-fact. Her head tilted ever so slightly as she studied him, a fierce frown developing. “Did you just call me a fool?”
He shrugged, though he felt as nonchalant as a soldier preparing for battle. “I simply meet fire with fire.”
She looked momentarily surprised, but then she smirked. “King John.” She narrowed her eyes. “I find it rather interesting that you know so much Shakespeare now. If I recall correctly, you knew nothing of him and his work five years ago.”
People were openly staring now. He didn’t care, except that he would hate to think her poor innocent sisters’ futures were ruined because of this exchange. As far as he knew, they did not deserve that fate. He could tell her that he’d begun reading Shakespeare because, as furious as he was at her, he was drawn to the text, drawn to the memories of her spouting Shakespearean quotes, and he had wanted to know what the comical words that had come out of her mouth meant. He’d been looking for answers that he had, of course, never found. He could tell her all that, but he wouldn’t. The thing about men like him was, they could be beasts when cornered. He’d like to think he was better