He looked at Cassandra; his gaze could be construed as a look of love. And everyone was listening now. Even she almost believed what he was saying.Almost.She knew different. After all, she’d been there.
Soren continued his “tale.” “She told me she didn’t know why her father warned her against me. She said I didn’t look like such a bad sort.”
“I wonder what she’ll say after tonight?” Lord Drucker quipped. He was rewarded with a few chuckles, but the women in the room shushed him. They were caught up in the story.
“I told her I didn’t want to be her enemy, and I didn’t. She had curls like spun gold that fell all the way to her waist. Her eyes were bluer than any I’d ever seen before. My nan had told me stories of piskies, which are mischievous Cornish fairies who roam the hills, and she looked like one of them come to life. She also held a book in her hand. She was reading while the rest of us were looking for trouble.”
The book part was true.
His talk of piskies was pure nonsense. Piskies were actually tiny, naughty old men. But no one in this room knew that. Instead, they were picturing her as a glowing little thing with wings.
“I spent the afternoon at her feet,” Soren declared. “By the end of the day, we vowed to each other that we would not be enemies. That the feud our parents enjoyed was not ours.”
Another piece of truth.
“Nor, in all the ensuing years, has there ever been a woman who has captured my imagination so completely.”
His words formed themselves in the air over everyone’s heads. In that moment, he had elevated her from a bride of convenience to a lover of significance.
She could feel opinions changing all around her. Lady Bainhurst had raised a hand to her heart as if deeply touched. Willa appeared positively smitten. Even the men had been tamed.
The only one not pleased was Cassandra—because it wasn’t true, save a smidgeon. He’d made it all up. Easily.
“To my bride,” Soren declared, raising his glass. The company rose to their feet, albeit some unsteadily. They raised their glasses. “May we have a long and happy life together,” Soren said to her. He drained the glass.
She did not touch hers.
The dowager leaned toward her, her eyes misty. “I did not realize this was a love match. That he has pined for you all these years. I’ve not heard anything so romantic.” Lady Melrose nodded her agreement.
Cassandra had never heard anything so manipulative. Her temper began to build.
Yes, she understood Soren might think he was doing it for her because Lord Drucker was a bore and a fool.
But her father had warned her—and she was wary of conniving men.
She came to her feet, reacting to the sudden churning of emotions she could not explain. Why, she almost preferred everyone snicker at her than fixate on her with melting eyes because they wanted to believe Soren’s fibs.
Her intent was to leave the room with her dignity intact. Cassandra never lied, and she was stunned at how easily he did.
His arm came around her waist and held her in place as if he had anticipated her actions.
“Kiss her,” someone, possibly Camberly since he was well within his cups, called. The words were picked up by others.
“Keep smiling,” Soren warned under his breath.
She turned to him. “I don’t—” she started, ready to tell him that she didn’t smile on command—but he kissed her before she could finish. Her lips had pursed on the word “don’t” and he’d pounced on them.
By the roar of approval, the kiss must have looked loverly but it wasn’t.
She was spitting furious with him. He’d just made up nonsense about them in front of everyone with complete disregard of the truth. Her father had always chided her to be honest. It was a virtue he favored.
Cassandra tried to pull away. Soren’s arm around her wouldn’t let her escape without a scene. She tried to protest; he took full advantage with his mouth.
Really, the man was insufferable. It was just as it had been on the dueling field. He kissed; she found herself kissed.
And then,theywere kissing.
It became hard to reason, let alone to hold an angry thought. He had a hand on her back now, right between her shoulder blades. He bent over her, his lips following hers, and she found herself pressing up, not wishing to break contact.
