“All right?”
“All right,” she repeated softly as she leaned her head back against the car seat and closed her eyes. “Will you take me back now?”
The rest of the car ride was spent in utter silence. Briony didn’t open her eyes until he pulled the car back into the garage beneath the palace. He had barely put the car in Park before she had unbuckled her seat belt and gotten out. He swore under his breath and got out. She’d almost made it to the elevator.
“Briony.”
She paused, shoulders rigid, hands balled into fists. Slowly, she turned but kept her head down, that curtain of red obscuring most of her face.
“I am sorry. For hurting you.”
Then she turned and disappeared inside the elevator. The doors swished shut, leaving Cass alone in the garage.
He didn’t know how long he stared at the closed doors. When had his perfectly laid plans, his years of plotting, become more important than his honor? When had his revenge become more important than his true duty, using his wealth to support Linnaea’s recovery?
Marrying Briony was still a crucial part of the plan. A marital alliance would cement relations between Linnaea and Tulay. It would also make it much harder for Daxon to renege on their agreement.
As long as he could refocus his attention where it belonged and rein in his complicated emotions for his future wife.
CHAPTER NINE
BRIONYSTAREDATher reflection in the mirror. She didn’t look like herself. Her hair had been straightened, the waist of her white cap-sleeved dress cinched with an emerald belt that matched the petticoat peeking out from beneath the knee-length skirt. Matching green earrings sparkled at her ears.
She sucked in a deep breath. The cosmetologist Clara had ushered inside her room just after dawn had managed to conceal the deep shadows beneath her eyes. She had crawled underneath the thick, warm blanket and silk sheets of her king-size bed...and mourned. Mourned the death of the dream she’d held on to as a girl of who her father was. She’d envisioned him a hero, a firefighter, perhaps, or an adventurer, an astronaut who looked down on the planet on one of his trips to the space station and wondered where his daughter was.
Fanciful. Foolish.
She’d heard those adjectives from Trey often enough. Unfortunately, she was proving him right more times than she cared to admit.
By the time she’d woken up that morning, her grief had morphed into anger. Anger at the powers that be that had bestowed upon her an unloving stepfather and an even more unloving birth father. Anger at Daxon for being such a callous brute. Even knowing his diagnosis didn’t alter her feelings. Just a day ago, hearing that her birth father would most likely not see next Christmas would have made her world tilt on its axis.
But last night, her world had simply shuddered for a moment. She didn’t wish death on anyone. But it was hard to summon more than a vague remorse for a life cut short. Not when she had not only witnessed his cruel nature but heard about how he had treated everyone in his life, from a former lover to a child whose family had been ripped apart.
Cass had lied to her. But, she acknowledged grudgingly as she smoothed a wrinkle out of her skirt, unlike anyone else in her life, he’d come clean. He’d apologized, twice. And he’d stuck to his original offer. How many men would have continued to lie, would have manipulated her even further to get what they wanted? How many would have tried to play up a love angle, even tried to seduce her to secure what they wanted?
It didn’t excuse what he’d done. But it did let her know that despite his mistakes, her original evaluation of his character had been accurate. He was a good man trying to do the right thing both for the country he remembered and loved and for his family.
Could she be strong enough to enter into a loveless marriage? Even if it was for the greater good?
But, she reminded herself,that still didn’t explain the kiss. He’d emphasized the professional nature of their relationship multiple times. Could he remain so detached when it came to making heirs? Just the thought of his body pressed against hers, heated skin growing hotter still as they explored each other, made her breath catch.
Fanciful. Foolish.
She yanked on the zipper of her dress and groaned when it snagged on her bra. That’s what she got for fantasizing. She should have let Clara stay to help her with the dress.
A knock on the door had her hurrying to the door.
“Oh, Clara, thank good—”
She came up hard against a solid wall of muscle. She stumbled back, her legs becoming tangled in the voluminous folds of the petticoat. An arm wrapped around her waist and hauled her against a very strong body. A spicy, woodsy scent wrapped around her.
“Where’s the fire?”
She tilted her chin up to look into Cass’s eyes. His teasing smirk disappeared as his hand moved up and came to rest on her bare back.
“Uh...my zipper got stuck.”
His fingers drifted down, lightly skimming over her skin and setting every nerve ending on fire until he reached the zipper.