Page 69 of The Rogue's Runaway Bride
“I might have been had you not kept it so well hidden.”
He flashed a half-smile that once would’ve charmed her. “Well then, you’ve stumbled upon it now.”
“I’m still not sure it truly exists.”
“Is that so?”
Setting his paper aside, Jon joined her at the bookcase. He was dressed in casual attire—dark trousers, an unadorned white linen shirt unbuttoned at the throat, and a silvery gray waistcoat only partially fastened. The subtle spice of soap wafting from his skin betrayed he’d quite recently bathed. His dark hair was combed back from his face, emphasizing the angles of his cheeks and the carved edge of his jaw.
Somewhat irked with herself that she was so very aware of him, she pulled in a low breath. Why, she could even identify the familiar aroma of his preferred soap.
“A single volume of poetry proves nothing,” she countered. “For all I know, this book might be one of your sister’s possessions.”
Jon retrieved a leather-bound book from the shelf and placed it in her hands.Walden; or, Life in the Woods.“This is more to my taste.”
Her interest was piqued. “I’m quite familiar with Thoreau’s works. Of course, my father would’ve preferred that I focus my attention on ladies’ journals and such.”
Taking a step back, she steadied herself to express a truth that had played in her thoughts. “There is something... something I’ve wanted to tell you.”
A slight touch of humor played on his mouth. “You’ve decided to confess you’ve no more knowledge of how to bake a pie than I have training in how to properly curtsy before Her Majesty?”
“Truth be told, the matter of my baking ability is moot—I do not intend to lose our wager. But if I did wish to make a pie, I’ll have you know you would savor every last bite.”
“We shall see,” he said, looking a bit smug.
“Jon, what I’d wanted to say... though I now question my better judgment... I wanted to tell you that of all the men in London I might’ve encountered that night, I am glad it was you.”
He appeared to ponder her words. “Might I ask if you suffered a blow to the head during Mrs. Johnstone’s instruction?”
“I assure you I did not.”
His brows knit together. “You’ve helped yourself to more sherry than you can handle?”
“Not so much as a drop.”
“Then perhaps the blows I suffered at Mrs. Johnstone’s surprisingly brutal hands have alteredmyperception.” Amusement brightened his brown eyes. “It sounded as if youwere glad it wasme—of all people—that you came upon when you were dashing about the city in that abominable gown.”
“Your ears did not deceive you. That is precisely what I said.”
He scrubbed a hand over his stubble-covered jaw. “By thunder, you do possess the ability to confound me.”
“And why might that be?”
When he met her eyes, his expression had been stripped of amusement. “When I left New York, you made your feelings clear. You thought I was a heartless cad.”
“That is not correct,” she said, biting back a smile. “An arrogantarse,perhaps. But never heartless. And not a cad.”
“An arse, is it?” His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “I might actually prefercad.”
“I believearseis a better fit. Besides, I rather like the sound of the way you Brits phrase it. It doesn’t sound like a blasted mule.”
“I must say, I like this spark in you.” His eyes darkened as he met her gaze. “At first, I’d thought it might’ve been doused. But you’re as feisty as ever.”
“Much to your chagrin.”
“Precisely the opposite.” Again, he seemed to search for the truth in her expression. “I know things did not end well between us.”
“That is true.” She held her tone steady. It wouldn’t do to give in to the emotion lurking so near the surface. “In my life, I’ve dealt with my fair share of bounders and scoundrels. Men who will sweet-talk a woman with pretty lies, without a shred of honesty. But you... you’ve never lied to me. If anything, you have been exceedingly truthful.” She let out a little sigh. “Even when I didn’t want you to be.”
