And Then She Fell (Cynster 19 Cynster Sisters Duo #1) Read Free Page B

had taken refuge in an alcove partly screened by a large potted palm, which was where James had found her.
    Cornered her; she couldn’t get out unless he stepped back.
    Not that that bothered her, but her pulse had sped up—she wasn’t sure why.
    “All I did was tell Melinda the truth—that you need to marry to release part of your inheritance.” She narrowed her eyes in warning; she was not going to be held responsible for his shortcomings. “You hadn’t thought to inform her of that. Melinda has her heart set on a love-match, but although she asked, I specifically refused to comment on that aspect. I left that to her own judgment, and if you failed to convince her of the emotional foundation of your suit, I do not believe you can lay the blame for that at my door .”
    He narrowed his eyes; normally so soft a chocolate brown that drowning in all that lusciousness wasn’t a silly thought, they currently resembled chips of adamantine agate. “As I thought—you have no notion of the havoc you’ve caused, not just for me, but for so many others.”
    She blinked, frowned. “What do you mean?”
    He seemed not to hear her; his eyes continued boring into hers, his face a mask of reined anger and frustration. “Simon had mentioned your interfering interest, of how you dabble and meddle in other people’s lives to keep yourself amused.”
    His tone sent her temper soaring. “You aren’t in love with Melinda!”
    “No, I’m not—but did I ever claim I was?”
    He’d lowered his head so they were speaking face-to-face with only inches between them, his diction so clipped he all but flung his words at her as if they were darts, or possibly javelins.
    She searched his eyes, the hard, austere planes of his face. His emotions were close beneath that rigid surface; anger and frustration reached her clearly, but so, too, did an underlying current of concern, of anxiety, worry, and trepidation. And underneath all lay a lick of fear, but it wasn’t fear for himself; there was a distracted quality to it that she recognized—his was fear for someone or something he viewed as in his care. Abruptly, she felt out of her depth. “What—”
    “Did it never occur to you that some gentlemen might, just might, be subject to other pressures—reasons that have nothing to do with love—that might dictate that they have to marry? How the devil do you expect such gentlemen to proceed, matrimonially speaking, if they have to contend with the likes of you, meddling where you have no right to interfere?” He dragged in a breath, then even more forcefully, albeit quietly, ground out, “If you learn nothing else from the mess you’ve just created, if I can convince you to stop intruding in matters you neither understand nor that are any true concern of yours, at least I will have accomplished something.”
    The look he cast her held an element of disgust, along with a degree of disappointment; he started to step back, to leave.
    She caught his lapel. Curled her fingers and clamped them.
    He froze, glanced down at her fingers locked in his coat, then slowly raised his gaze to hers and arched a supercilious brow.
    She didn’t let go but belligerently met his gaze, returning his anger and frustration in full measure. “What,” she enunciated, the word as bitten off as his had been, “are you talking about?” She wasn’t about to let him cast such nebulous yet hurtful aspersions and then just walk away.
    He held her gaze for a long moment, then glanced down at her hand. His anger had abated not one jot, yet with outward, almost languid calm, he said, “Given you’ve chosen to interest yourself in my matrimonial situation, perhaps you deserve to learn the full story.” Raising his gaze, he met her eyes. “And the full scope of the problems your ill-advised interference has caused.”
    A burst of laughter from the other side of the palm had them both glancing that way; a group of young people were gathering beyond the palm,