“Such as?”
“Such as when I make a mistake, I ensure it’s corrected.”
Her eyes flew open.
“What do you mean?” she asked warily.
Cass’s smile flashed white in the darkness of the limo.
“It means that until the palace doctor gives you a clean bill of health, I won’t be leaving your side tonight.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
CASSCASTANOTHERglance toward the closed door of the bathroom. After the palace doctor had given her a thorough physical examination and pronounced her healthy aside from a few bruises, she’d told Cass she was going to take a hot bath.
That had been over an hour ago.
Where had his legendary patience disappeared to? He wanted to check on her, make sure she was okay not just physically but also emotionally. Being attacked by reporters in such a callous manner couldn’t have been easy.
The door to the bathroom creaked open. Briony emerged, her body wrapped in a fluffy white bathrobe and her hair caught up in an equally fluffy towel.
“You’re still here.”
“You sound disappointed,” Cass replied as he looked back at the book he’d plucked from one of her shelves. He’d barely read five pages of it.
“More just wondering why.”
She sat in a chair near the fireplace and held out her hands to the flames. With her makeup washed off and her skin bare, she still looked beautiful, but more innocent, ethereal.
Guilt returned in full force. He’d dragged her into this life. If it hadn’t been for his grand scheme, she wouldn’t have been anywhere near that museum tonight.
“I’m still here because I needed to say I’m sorry.”
Her head whipped around, her eyes widening in surprise.
“Sorry?” she repeated.
“If it hadn’t been for me, you wouldn’t have been at the museum tonight.”
“Okay.”
“And you wouldn’t have been attacked.”
She stared at him for a long moment.
“Do you feel...guilty?”
There was an odd note in her voice, but he ignored it, plowing forward with what he knew needed to be said.
“I do. Most of my thoughts were focused on the treaty and reclaiming my family’s standing. Incidents like what happened tonight didn’t even cross my mind.”
“Cass, you couldn’t have predicted this.”
“I should have predicted this,” he snapped back. “I should have anticipated something like this happening.”
He’d spent the majority of the last nineteen years planning, ensuring that things would go right. When there was a plan, little could go wrong. When the details took center stage instead of emotions, there was little risk of failure. Even though so many people saw him as a playboy prince, in truth, he was a meticulous businessman who kept himself and those he allowed into his close circle in check.
But not tonight. Tonight he had been so focused on the stunning woman who had listened to a poor painter and finagled a brandy cocktail out of the bartender that he hadn’t sensed the anger and resentment seething in the crowd outside until it had nearly been too late.