Page 97 of Rogue of My Heart

“That we’re kissing in a water closet mere minutes after being engaged against our will to other people?” Marie suggested.

“Yes?” His grin widened. “That and considering we only met yesterday.”

“It is.” Marie nodded, staring at his kiss-reddened lips. “It’s completely mad.” She launched into him again, throwing her whole heart into kissing him and exploring him with her tongue.

“Good,” he said between desperate kisses. “I always wanted to do something hair-brained and shocking.”

“I’m sure you’ve done plenty of hair-brained things and will do many more that are twice as shocking,” she cooed as she threaded her fingers through his hair. All her life, she’d been warned about the allure and seduction of the flesh. She’d been told that sensuality was powerful and could lead a woman down a dangerous path in no time. As she kissed Christian, loving every moment of his mouth against hers and his hands exploring her sides, she knew it was true.

“You’re not marrying my brother,” Christian said at last, breathless and alive with energy.

“And you’re not marrying Lady Aoife,” Marie told him. “But how do we stop the weddings?”

“We can start by stopping the engagement party.” Christian had the same mischievous light in his eyes that he’d had when he asked her to play the prank on the old woman the day before.

“Yes,” Marie said. “Whatever wickedness you’re plotting, I say yes.”

“Good.” He kissed her once more, soundly, then leaned back. “I have an idea. I’m sure by the time we get back to the parlor, my father will have set a date for the engagement party. Whatever day that is, I want you to meet me in the carriage house here, at Kilrea Manor.”

“The carriage house?” Marie blinked up at him.

Christian’s grin widened. “They can’t announce our engagement if they never make it to the party.”

Marie sucked in a breath, then let it out in a giggle. “Whatever you’re plotting, it’s brilliant.” She kissed him again, more certain than ever that it was possible to know in an instant when you’d met your match.

Five

Of all the things that Christian learned at university, the most useful was to hope for the best but to plan for the worst. He had a plan to free both himself and Marie from their painfully unsuitable betrothals—a jolly, high-spirited plan at that—but he wasn’t the sort to prank his way out of his problems without trying every rational and reasonable means to fix things first.

Luckily for him—and for Marie—the fortnight that followed the revelation of their horrific engagements involved the three families seeing each other on an almost daily basis. That meant he and Marie were able to spend a surprising amount of time together, though none of it spent alone. In a way, Christian didn’t mind. Being thrown into crowded social situations with Marie meant that he was able to talk to her, to get to know her better. And he liked everything he learned about her—about how intelligent she actually was and how industrious, about her shockingly modern views of the world, and her good heart. The way she took to his mother, and his mother to her, was even more encouragement for Christian.

By the morning of the engagement party at Dunegard Castle, he was convinced that his initial impressions of Marie as being the perfect woman for him in every way were correct. Which meant he wasn’t going to stand by and watch both Marie and himself be treated like pawns in a chess game.

“Surely, Father, you must see that Miles and Lady Marie have nothing at all in common,” he argued while pacing his father’s office hours before the family was due to leave Kilrea Manor for the party. “Miles has barely spoken two words to her since you announced the engagement.”

“I have nothing to say to her,” Miles argued without glancing up at Christian. He leaned against his father’s desk, inspecting his nails—which had the perfection of a man who hadn’t done a lick of manual labor in his life.

“You don’t need to say anything to her,” their father added without looking up from the papers on his desk.

“That is preposterous.” Christian glared at his brother. “One should have a loving, or at least cordial, relationship with one’s wife.”

“And is that why you’ve been paying Lady Aoife so much mind?” Miles asked with a sharp smirk.

Christian let out a breath, trying not to let the guilt of largely ignoring the woman he was supposed to marry bother him. He had no intention of ever going through with that marriage, after all. “Lady Aoife is difficult to converse with,” he said in a low voice. “She doesn’t seem to have any opinions. She’s always glancing out the window as though she’d rather be somewhere else.”

“At least my fiancée is interested in conversation,” Miles snorted, as though he’d scored a point against Christian.

Christian clenched his jaw and glared at his brother. They’d battled for everything from pudding to attention for as long as he could remember. And for what? There were no rules saying a man had to be close to his brother. The urge to best Miles was still there, though, but before he could tell him off, their father said, “Conversation in a marriage is irrelevant. All you need is a hostess to entertain your company and a womb to bear your heir.”

Christian gaped at his father, disgust welling up in him. “What kind of an antiquated, misogynistic opinion is that?”

The vehemence of his question was enough to startle his father out of the business of the estate spread across his desk. “I beg your pardon?” he seethed.

“Is your head so buried in disputed estate boundaries and cheating our neighbors that you haven’t stopped to realize how important women are in our world?” Christian demanded.

Miles snorted. “They’re important in the bedroom, all right. Although I’d just as soon have a mistress. A wife could never satisfy my particular tastes.”

Christian shook his head, unable to believe what he was hearing. “Women are being admitted to universities now,” he said. “They are entering the workforce in larger numbers than ever before. They own businesses, manage estates. Some even hold public office.”