“Oh aye. Both of our reputations are being questioned.”
The heaviness that had been in his chest pressed down harder. Even though he’d warned the men in the pub the other day to stay quiet, they’d talked anyway, and word of the kiss had spread faster than a steamboat fire.
“Are people giving you a hard time?” If they were, it was his fault for not doing a better job in silencing the rumors.
“My mam and da haven’t heard about it yet.”
“And you don’t want them to be finding out?”
“I’m afraid it’s inevitable, don’t you think? With the way the gossip has traveled already, ’tis only a matter of time before they learn of it.”
He wanted to apologize. The words were on the tip of his tongue. But he held them in.
“But,” she continued, “if I am matched with you, how can they get angry about a kiss?”
“Matched with me?” He shook his head and took a rapid step back. “Ach, no. That’s not an option—”
“Hear me out.” She placed a hand on his arm, probably to keep him from bolting.
He actually did want to bolt as far from her as he could because he couldn’t consider a match with her. Not in a hundred years for a hundred different reasons.
“You need a match too, to save your reputation as the matchmaker.”
“Doncha be worrying. I’ll be finding a match on my own just fine.” Or at the very least, he’d have a say in a few of the lasses Oscar narrowed down for him.
“We’ll help each other out.”
Being with Zaira wouldn’t help him. It would only complicate matters. “Naturally you’re attracted to me and want to be with me, but I just can’t—
“Eww.” She shoved against his chest this time. “Eww, no.”
“Eww no, what?”
“Eww no, I’m not attracted to you.”
“You sure kissed me like you were.”
“It was for research, Bellamy. That’s all.” Her voice sounded exasperated. “I don’t like you. And you don’t like me. That’s why a match between us would be so perfect.”
He straightened and looked down at her more carefully. Though night was closing in, he could see the earnestness in her face. She’d made the declaration about not liking him before. Did she really mean it?
“You’re too self-important for my taste,” she stated, as if seeing the question in his eyes.
“Is that a fact?”
“It is.” She peered up at him with her wide, honest eyes.
He could see no deception there, no games, no hidden motivation.
“Kiernan suggested that we stay in the match for a little while, and then eventually when the gossip dies down, we can go our separate ways, and no one will be the wiser.”
Bellamy slid a glance in the direction of the barouche only to glimpse Kiernan with his arms around Alannah, kissing her as if he needed to in order to keep living.
At the sight of such passion, Bellamy’s body tensed with sudden desire of his own—a strong need to be with a woman. After all, he was a man in the prime of his life and those kinds of needs were natural. It’s just that he was usually able to pay them no heed, put them from his mind, and move on with life. All he had to do was remind himself of how disastrous his parents’ marriage had been, how disastrous his grandparents’ marriage had been, and how disastrous each matchmaker’s marriage had been for generations. He wasn’t repeating the mistake of locking into a marriage, chancing disaster of his own and hurting a woman he cared about.
But whatever Zaira was proposing, it was apparently only temporary.
“You’ll be my fake fiancé, Bellamy.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “And I’ll be yours.”
