Page 98 of Rogue of My Heart

“No woman with any sort of breeding does anything half so scandalous,” his father huffed, looking genuinely put out. “And no son of mine will speak of such atrocities, let alone champion them.”

“I cannot believe what I am hearing,” Christian said. “I knew your opinions were old-fashioned, Father, but I had no idea they were so backwards.”

“Backwards?” His father snorted with laughter. “This from a rapscallion who waltzes about the countryside in his altogether, leading daughters of the aristocracy astray.”

“I was having fun.” Christian raised his voice. When both his father and Miles sneered, he went on with, “Life is meant to be fun. It is meant to be filled with joy and laughter.”

“It is meant to be filled with diligence, hard work, and the maintenance of proper order,” his father argued.

A strange sort of pain filled Christian. His father and brother would never understand him. He shouldn’t need their understanding or approval, but, damn him, he did. Even if he didn’t have the slightest idea how to gain that approval.

“Life is meant to be happy. Even you deserve to be happy.” He flung out a hand toward Miles. “These marriages you propose will bring about misery. I won’t stand by and let them happen.”

“You have no choice.” His father rose abruptly, leaning forward over his desk and glaring at Christian. “I am your father,” he said, snapping each word. “I rule this family. God has ordained it to be so. You will do as you are told or you will be flung out like so much chaff.”

“You are making a mistake,” Christian countered. “A mistake that will have all of us cursing your name for decades to come.”

“Then curse me.” His father shrugged as though he didn’t care. “Just do as I say.”

Never before had Christian had such a strong urge to strike his own father. The man was blinded by his pride. Worse still, Christian knew the louder he protested the betrothals, the more his father would dig in his heels. It seemed as though reason and logic couldn’t win out against arrogance and cynicism after all.

Too aggravated to say anything more, Christian turned and stormed out of the room. Miles sniggered at him as he went, which only darkened Christian’s heart more. If he couldn’t talk his and Marie’s way out of the betrothals, he would have to resort to pranks after all.

By the time he reached the carriage house, his frustration had coalesced into wicked purpose. It was a long-shot, but if he aggravated his father to the point of madness by making his every living moment a lesson in obstruction, maybe he could convince the man to see things his way.

“You look like sunshine and roses.” Marie startled him by pushing away from the carriage house’s door and stepping toward him.

A rush of joy cut through the darkness growing inside of Christian and he breathed a sigh of relief. “You remembered,” he said, moving toward her and pulling her into his arms.

“How could I forget?” she asked with a saucy smile, sliding her arms over his shoulders and playing with strands of his hair.

Marie made him happy. That was all that mattered. They were completely mad to carry on the way they had, they were risking so much more than just their reputations by encouraging the spark between them, but Christian wouldn’t have had it any other way. It settled him so deeply that he risked kissing her right then and there, in the doorway of the carriage house, where anyone might have seen them.

“Delightful,” Marie sighed as their kiss ended. A moment later, her eyes widened and her smile grew. “So why did you want me to meet you here, of all places? Are we going to run away together and live the life of vagabonds, traveling the world and constantly running from our families?”

Christian laughed aloud, heart full. “No, but I like that as a secondary idea.” He stepped away from her, taking her hand and leading her deeper into the line of parked carriages housed in the old building. “Is everything still set up for the party at your brother’s house later?” he asked, heading for the carriage his father favored for paying calls. It was a large, black-lacquered thing with the family crest painted on the doors. Granted, all of his father’s carriages were large, black-lacquered things with the crest on the doors, but this one was the largest.

Marie huffed and leaned against the carriage when Christian let go of her hand. “Yes, unfortunately. I’ve begged and pleaded with Fergus to renege on the engagement. I’ve wept and I’ve cajoled. I even told him exactly why I would rather die than marry your brother.”

Christian glanced over his shoulder at her as he fetched the box of tools for maintaining the carriages from one of the shelves at the side of the room. “And why would you rather die than marry my brother?” he asked with a teasing grin.

Marie’s answering look—wicked as the day was long—made Christian’s heart swell. It made other things swell as well. That gave him ideas far beyond the initial prank he had in store.

“I think you know what my reasons are,” she said, flickering one eyebrow at him as he returned to the carriage.

He laughed, then dropped to squat and stare at the underside of the carriage. “If you continue to look at me like that, Lady Marie, you’ll put notions into my head that would make even the sauciest of souls blush.”

“I certainly hope so,” she hummed. A pause followed, then she asked in a far more serious voice, “What are you doing?”

“Putting my plan in motion,” Christian said, taking a wrench from the toolbox and going to work on the bolts that held the carriage’s axle together.

Marie squatted by his side, her eyes round as she watched him work. “Good Lord. If you do that, the wheels will fall off.”

“That is the general idea.” Christian sent her a naughty wink.

Marie clapped a hand over her mouth to hide her giggle. “I knew you were impish,” she said a moment later, “but I had no idea you were downright bad.”

“I’m clever,” he said, loosening another bolt, then leaning closer to Marie, flickering one eyebrow. “But I can be bad, if that’s what you want me to be.”