He scoffed in reply. “I don’t believe you.”
At those words, she rolled her eyes. “I don’t particularly care what you believe, you?—”
Before she could finish, he bent and tossed her over his shoulder with appalling ease.
What the devil!
“Put me down!” Cressida pounded on his back, mortification flooding through her. “You brute! You absolute?—”
He strode through the trees toward a waiting carriage as though she weighed nothing at all. “You’ve left me no choice. I cannot allow you to ruin this wedding.”
“This is kidnapping!” she sputtered.
“This is preventing disaster.” He deposited her onto the carriage seat with surprising gentleness, then climbed in after her and rapped on the ceiling. “London. Quickly.”
“You blackguard!” Cressida lunged for the door, but his hand shot out and covered hers on the handle.
“Are you truly about to leap from a moving vehicle?”
“Yes!”
His hand curled around her wrist and pulled her backward.
The carriage was already pulling away, gathering speed. Through the window, Cressida watched the church recede and, with it, her last chance to save Harriet.
“You had no right,” she whispered, though the fight had drained from her. “No right at all.”
“Perhaps not.” He settled back against the seat, still watching her with that unnerving intensity. “But I couldn’t let you destroy two lives out of misguided loyalty.”
“Misguided?” The word stung. “She’s my dearest friend! I was trying to help?—”
“By humiliating her? By forcing her into social ruin just because you’ve decided this wedding is wrong?” He shook his head. “That isn’t help, Lady Cressida. That’s selfishness dressed as devotion.”
The accusation hit harder than it should have, especially because she had no defense against it.
Cressida turned away, throat tight, unwilling to let him see how his words affected her.
The carriage rolled on, carrying her away from Harriet, away from her purpose, away from everything.
It was over… and she still didn’t even know the name of the infuriating man who’d stopped her.
Who on earth was he?
Chapter Two
“Ishall report you to the authorities,” Cressida gritted out as she settled back against the carriage seat, glaring at her captor with all the anger and disdain she could muster.
He lounged opposite her with infuriating ease, one long leg crossed over the other, looking for all the world like a man without a care.
He tilted his head to the side. “Report me? And what precisely will you tell them, My Lady?”
“That you kidnapped me!” She gestured wildly at their surroundings. “That you physically removed me from a public place against my will and forced me into your carriage?—”
“To return you safely to your home,” he interrupted smoothly. “After preventing you from causing a scene at the weddingof two respected members of society. Yes, I’m certain the constables will be absolutely riveted by such villainy.”
Heat flooded her cheeks. “You… you arrogant?—”
“Pragmatic,” he corrected, tilting his head. “There’s a difference.”
