Page 21 of A Rogue Worth the Risk

As he had last night, he wore all black.

Was that a reflection of the unkind moniker Society had given him? The Blackhearted Baron.

Lady Sewell had imparted that particular tidbit with a great deal of relish, truth be told.

Caspian touched his forehead to hers in a gesture so unpredictably tender, so unexpectedly sweet, a lump formed in her throat.

Corinna swallowed hard. Then swallowed again.

Blast and dash.

Why did he affect her this way?

She was not a watering pot nor a woman given to vacillating emotions. Corinna was a woman of strong opinions, firm values, and even more stalwart expectations for her future.

“If ever a woman could make me change my mind, it would be you, Corinna, my sweet.”

My sweet?

A groan of despair, or perchance delight, wedged itself low in Corinna’s chest, where she refused to let it manifest. If she were the sort of nincompoop to fall in love with the alacrity of an Ascot racehorse, a part of her heart might’ve tumbled onto his polished shoes at that moment.

Quite naturally, she was not.

Sighing, Caspian drew away and put her at arms’ length. “Regardless, I have not had second thoughts. I shall not marry. There is much about me you do not know. I would never subject my wife to the cruel shunning, cold-hearted and calculated snubbing, and even more vicious unfounded gossip I have endured these past six years.”

Corinna bit her lower lip.

He had suffered. A lot and alone.

Her heart ached for him.

She’d have to be queer in the attic to consider the possibility she might have feelings for a man she’d known for less than four and twenty hours, but her heartstrings tugged nonetheless.

“I am still willing to hear that tale, Caspian. You’ll find I’m a rather good listener and I never share confidences.” Never one to harbor a grudge, she gave him an impish grin. “I propose we pretend the kiss didn’t happen.”

He quirked a dark eyebrow with practiced pessimism.

Had he always been so cynical, or had he erected bastions and battlements to protect himself from further pain and wounding?

“Call the kiss a moment of insanity,” she said.

Thoroughly enjoyable insanity.

She fluttered her hands around.

“For what it is worth, I’m not husband-hunting. I fully expect to end up on the shelf because nuptials hold little enticement for me. I’m not biddable and submissive and have no interest in becoming so.”

“Nooo?” He pitched his voice higher and dragged the word out into multiple syllables. “I would never have guessed.”

His theatrical sarcasm brought a grin to his lean face and dispelled the earlier tension.

“Lady Osborne says you’re a ‘hellion and spitfire wrapped into one unpredictable, incorrigible, unladylike, wholly unsuitable bundle.’”

He gave her a devilish wink.

“She’s not entirely wrong.” Corinna rolled a shoulder. “I cannot bring myself to care overly much.”

Caspian chuckled. “Nor I.”