All The Ways To Ruin A Rogue(55)

            “The lady and I are courting. Perhaps we should ask her what she prefers,” Mackenzie declared at last.

            “Her preference does not signify.” The twin lines bracketing Max’s mouth whitened. “Rest assured, her brother would prefer I escort her—”

            “Oh, enough of this!” She pushed herself between the two of them, waving her hands. She wasn’t about to have bloodshed over such a trivial matter as who escorted her home—since, apparently, she would be going home.

            In truth, she didn’t have the stomach to remain at Sodom. A fact she rested solely at Max’s feet. The inclination for such sport, it seemed, had left her.

            She stabbed a finger in Max’s chest. “You may escort me home.” She swung her gaze to Mr. Mackenzie. “Lord Camden is a family friend. I will be fine.”

            His unreadable gaze drilled into her. It was difficult to tell whether he objected or not. Not that it mattered one whit to her. The decision was hers whether he was a prospective husband or not.

            Without waiting to hear whether the Scotsman agreed, Max grabbed her hand and pulled her after him through the house, his stride so swift she practically tripped.

            “Slow down,” she hissed.

            “Would you rather I carry you?” he growled.

            With a huff of affront, her legs worked faster to keep up with his longer strides. He dragged her out a side door she’d never noticed before, attesting to his knowledge of the establishment. For some reason, that only incited her anger further.

            His carriage was waiting in the dark alleyway. She realized that he must have communicated their destination beforehand, so confident he would retrieve her, because they ascended into the carriage without a word to the driver. Once the door shut behind them, they were off.

            She chose the far corner of one seat, her back facing the front of the carriage, relieved when Max took the opposite side. The more distance between them, the better. She had struck him before in a fit of pique, and although she felt like doing it again, she curled her hands under her thighs, determined to resist succumbing to violence.

            The carriage started down the alley with a gentle roll. His eyes glittered across from her in the dark interior of the carriage.

            “What can you have been thinking?” he demanded.

            “I don’t owe you an explanation for my actions.”

            “You owe your brother, do you not? Your mother? Would they not be influenced by your utter ruin?”

            “I’m not ruined.”

            “You know that for fact? Mackenzie saw you. You think he can be trusted?”

            “He said he would not tell—”

            “Oh, and you know him to be trustworthy. What happens when you anger or slight him?”

            “What makes you think I would anger him?”

            “Because that’s what you do. You’re infuriating . . .”

            She crossed her arms. “He’s been very attentive in his courtship. I think he quite likes me.”

            He growled, “I’m sure he does. What happens, though, when he learns that he cannot have you? That might anger him.”

            “I don’t know,” she replied with deliberate casualness. “I’m not so sure he can’t have me. I am looking to get married.”

            A deadly stillness came over him. The back of her neck prickled with unease. She looked toward the curtained window, but eventually turned back to look at his shadowy features, compelled by the sensation of his stare crawling all over her face—as tangible as a touch.