Lady Guinevere and the Rogue with a Brogue - Julie Johnstone Page 0,99

Had the bastard not offered? Had her parents forced her, after all, thinking wedding Asher was the best option for her sisters to secure a good future?

The park flew by and gave way to nothing but the lane home as he tried to outrun his thoughts. They could not be left behind, though. He recalled every touch, every moment of this week, as well as his plans for tonight, the words he had wanted to say. The faster he went, the higher his fury mounted until he took a turn so quickly that the conveyance went up on two wheels, nearly tipping.

He slowed but did not stop, and the decrease in speed seemed to reduce the furious burn of his temper. As his head cooled, questions hit him like bullets. Why pretend to love him if Kilgore had her heart? It didn’t make sense. She could have simply wed him and had a marriage of convenience. It burned in his mind on the trip home through the lengthening shadows. Despite telling himself not to be concerned for her traveling alone at night, he was, damn her, but he refused to return to the park like a fool.

Instead, when he arrived at the mews, he sent Digby to look out for her from a distance. He gave the man orders to find her in the park and follow her home without Guinevere realizing she was being followed. Once that was settled, Asher made his way to his study, poured a generous serving of Scotch, and settled into the chair behind his desk to wait for her.

What the hell was he going to say? Would she even tell him the truth? He could confront her about seeing her, but he wanted her to tell him. He wanted to know she could be truthful, that there was something to believe in, that everything had not been a lie. Maybe she’d gone to the park to bid Kilgore a final goodbye.

A bitter laugh escaped Asher. Maybe he was a sodding idiot.

He slung the rest of his drink back, welcoming the burn down in his throat and into his belly, but when it faded, he was left feeling cold once more. He had known she was his weakness. He had known letting her in would be opening himself up to heartache once more, but he had done it. Or perhaps it was truer to say he had not prevented it from happening.

Hell…

He shoved his fingers through his hair. He’d courted it, courted her since they’d wed. He had even learned Shakespeare years before because it reminded him of her.

He would hear what came from her mouth, truth or lies, and then he would decide whether they had any hope or he’d been dwelling in a fool’s paradise of his own wishful making.

Chapter Twenty

“Carrington lied to me,” Guinevere sobbed and then proceeded to blurt what she had discovered.

“I’ll kill him for you,” Kilgore muttered.

She was just about to thank him when her senses came back to her and she remembered that Kilgore had lied to her, as well. She shoved him away and slapped him. It stung her fingers in a most excellent way.

His brows dipped together as his hand came to his cheek, gratifyingly already reddening. “What the devil was that for?”

“That,” she seethed, “was for kissing me five years ago on the balcony because you wagered with someone that you could seduce me!”

“Duchess,” Kilgore said, his voice a proper entreaty. He was so conniving even addressing her as such. “I can explain.”

“Then by all means, do,” she flung out.

He opened his mouth, shut it, growled, and opened it once more. “That wager was a cover.”

“So you did not kiss me for a wager?” Guinevere asked, frowning.

“No, the kiss was a means to an end.”

She crossed her arms. “Explain.”

Now he looked positively pained, and she knew he was going to claim he could not.

“I cannot, but—”

She turned on her heel and heaved herself into her curricle. She was through with lying, too handsome rogues, especially ones with Scottish accents. She was through with tears. She was—She was simply through.

“Please wait!” Kilgore frantically called. “I’m trying to find a solution to an enormous coil of my own making, and—”

“I do not care!” she spat, clicking her tongue and nearly running over Kilgore in her haste to get away from him. It felt very good indeed to take back a bit of control. She raced her conveyance out of the park, past a lone curricle, and started