Page 89 of The Betrothal

She nodded shallowly.

Small talk was far from my forte. And this clawing feeling of being responsible for her unhappiness was forcing my tongue, and I hated it.

I was chatting and it was horrendous.

“Okay, great!” My irritation surged. It was a miracle I’d been this civil for this long. “Brilliant chat, Izzy. Real conversationalist you are.”

She looked at me as if I’d slapped her and the hurt in her eyes drove a similar emotion into my chest.

“You wanted me here, Alex.” She’d become cool, detached. “And now what? You’re not having a nice time? You don’t like my company? That’s not a shock to me, since I know you fucking hate me,” she barked.

My laugh did nothing to improve the way she glared at me.

“I don’t hate you, Isabelle. You are simply an unexpected complication, one I hadn’t foreseen,” I spat back.

“An unexpected complication?” she spat. “You’re kidding me, right? If this is how you treat an unexpected complication, then I would hate to see how you treat someone you truly dislike!”

I went to reply but she thrust her hand out to stop me.

“Nope, I don’t need to hear any more. This most hated complication will be out of your precious manor as soon as the weather permits, and away from your family in six days.”

The timeline was one I knew but still it stirred something in me. Something oddly like disappointment.

“I. Am. Taking. A. Shower.” Her glare gave me no room to reply. “And I am taking the ‘mostly clean’ towel. Don’t come upstairs any time soon.”

I nodded, the concession doing nothing to diminish her irritation.

“Oh! And you? You, Alex,” she floundered. “You can go fuck yourself.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

ALEXANDER

Igave it some time, time for both of us to calm down.

That woman. She managed to make me angry, then had the audacity to make me feel like a total prick.

I didn’t need to feel guilty. I’d done nothing wrong. Not really.

Infuriating. That was what she was. Bloody infuriating.

She had wandered into my home, unwelcome, I might add. She had wormed her way into Seb and Ben’s affections, with her sweet smile and her pretty face and her laughs. That she gave so easily to them, but me, she only ever offered me scowls and scepticism.

And I could go fuck myself?

I hated her?

She hated me!

My feet were moving before I even really registered it, slamming up the stairs and around the galleried landing.

The door slammed into the panelling behind it and I didn’t even have the presence of mind to curse myself for the dent it would no doubt have created.

“I said I don’t fucking hate you!”

She spun to face me, freezing me in place.

She was towelling her hair. The space heater was pumping out heat and she wore only a plain tank top and black shorties, the curves of her legs fully on display.