“For the first time in my life, I’m choosing for myself,” he said quietly. “I’d rather marry a friend than a stranger.”
A friend. Was that all I was to him? I shifted in my seat, trying to display the same cool nonchalance that he exhibited. In that moment, I hated his self-possession. “Won’t your betrothed be upset?”
“Darling, I don’t give a damn about her.” He leaned forward and held my gaze. His voice dropped to a husky whisper. “I’m still waiting for your answer, Inez.”
A zip of electricity went through me, and I fought to keep myself from trembling. It was a big decision—the biggest of my life. “Are you sure?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life.”
“Let’s get married, then,” I said, breathless.
It was as if he’d been a balloon filled with worry. His shoulders dropped as the tension eased off him. Relief relaxed his features, his mouth softening, his jaw loosening. I hadn’t noticed he’d been that agitated while he waited for my answer. A thrilling feeling thrummed under my skin, making my heart pulse. I’d made Whitford Hayes nervous.
But he recovered quickly and grinned at me. “Does three days from now work for you?”
“Three days? Is that even possible?”
“Certainly not impossible.” He tugged at his tousled hair. “Damn complicated, though.”
“Tell me.”
“We need a priest, a license, a church, and a witness,” he said, listing each off with his fingers. “Then I’ll need to submit notice to the British Consulate Office here in Cairo, where they’ll notify the General Register Office in Britain.”
I raised my brows. “You’ve spent quite a bit of time thinking about this.” Unease settled deep in my belly. “Were you so sure I’d say yes?”
Whit hesitated. “I hoped you would. It was easier to dwell on the details than the possibility of a refusal.”
“Details that have to be looked into while under my uncle’s nose,” I said. “We mustn’t get caught.”
“Like I said, damn complicated.” Whit never lost his smile. “But we still have three days.”
I held on to the edge of the table. I couldn’t believe the direction my life was taking. Exhilaration made me breathless, but I couldn’t help feeling that I was missing something. Papá always wished I’d slow down to pay attention to the details I constantly overlooked. I heard his dry voice in my mind, gently chiding.
When you’re moving fast, hijita, it’s easy to miss what’s right in front of you.
But he wasn’t here. I didn’t know where he was, if he was even alive. My mother said my uncle had murdered my father, but she was a liar. He could be locked up somewhere, waiting for me to put the pieces of the puzzle together. I shoved my worry aside. There were other details needing my attention. Somehow, Whit and I had to sneak off to get married without anyone knowing.
Especially not my uncle.
“What do you need me to do?”
He sat back in the wicker chair, folded his hands across his flat belly, and grinned. “Why, what you do best, Inez.” His expression was warm, half-amused, half-teasing. The smile said he knew me all too well. “I need you to be exactly where you shouldn’t.”
WHIT
This was, by far, one of the worst ideas I’d ever had.
The Khedivial Sporting Club loomed over me, a building designed in a European style, painted in bland colors and surrounded by lush palms and trees. Distaste coated my tongue, sour like wine years past its prime. Only British military and high-ranking English civil servants were allowed within. And while my name and title met requirements, I had—dishonorably—lost my place in the military. Britain’s disgraced son who wanted to remain that way.
No one would throw the doors open in welcome.
But I needed a priest, a church, a witness, and a license. In order for our marriage to have any credible weight, I’d have to ask someone inside for the last two items on my list. Someone I hadn’t spoken to in months. Christ, a year? Time had moved in a crawling blur after I was discharged. He’d been my friend, and even though I’d pushed him away, I kept up with him whenever I could, not that he knew. His parents were ranchers from Bolivia, and they had sent him to live in England when he was only eight years old. He rarely talked about his family; he never stayed still long enough to have that kind of conversation. He liked to ride and he liked to drink. He shied away from gambling but risked his life almost daily.
Fast horses, front lines, and hard liquor.
But Leo Lopez never let me fight my fights alone, except that had been when I still had my reputation.
I pushed the wooden doors open and strode inside, a knot of tension blooming along my jawline. I unclenched my teeth, forced myself to wear an expression that didn’t openly display my revulsion.
