A Match Made in Mistletoe - Page 40

“Yes.”

Giles began to wish he’d set off into the blizzard at first light. “Go back to the house, Paul. I’ve no idea why you sought me out. If you’re here to gloat over your forthcoming nuptials, I don’t want to hear it. You’d be much better inside, celebrating with the family.”

Paul straightened and spoke calmly, “There isn’t any celebration.”

“So you haven’t asked her yet.” Wondering why the world continued to torture him, Giles turned to fiddle with his saddlebags. “Are you seeing all rivals off your patch, before you stake your claim?”

“It turns out I have no claim to stake.”

Giles whirled around in genuine anger. “Don’t tell me you’ve decided against asking Serena to marry you, because of what you think you saw in the library. Anything that happened was my fault. And given how you’ve kicked your heels up in recent years, you’re a hypocrite of the first order to begrudge her a few kisses. If you break that magnificent girl’s heart by jilting her, I swear I will shoot you.”

Paul studied him, without rising to his anger. “You really do love her.”

Giles’s fists curled at his sides. How he wanted to thump Paul. “And you really are a mean bastard. You can’t possibly blame Serena for last night’s mess. She’s as pure as a lily.”

“I don’t blame her,” Paul said steadily.

After a pause while Giles waited for his friend—his former friend—to berate him once more for trying to steal his bride away, he said, “Good. Don’t you have to go away and make a proposal?”

Paul shook his princely golden head. “I’ve already made it.”

“So go away and break out the champagne. You’ll forgive me if I find myself otherwise occupied, but I’ll raise a glass in your honor when I get back to London—and damn you as the luckiest man in England.”

“I’m not the luckiest man in England.”

Giles frowned and finally looked properly at Paul, without the gray mist of misery clouding his vision. That statement might mean Paul no longer considered Serena a prize since she’d kissed Giles. Or it could mean…

“I don’t understand,” Giles said, although perhaps he started to.

Paul didn’t look like Apollo ruling the sun this morning. Instead he seemed tired and defeated. Those broad shoulders held a hint of a slump, and the blue eyes were dull. Good God, Paul looked almost…human.

“She won’t have me.”

“Don’t be an idiot.” Giles couldn’t make sense of this. “You’ve been her dream since she could walk.”

The bitter smile curving Paul’s lips made him seem suddenly older. “Apparently she’s moved on to other dreams.”

“Ask her again.” Giles had been hurt too often to leap to conclusions. “You’ve made her wait. She’s just repaying the favor.”

“Does that sound like Serena to you? She’s always been the most forthright of women. No, my friend, she refused me, and I’ll wager my estate twice over that I stay refused.”

“But why?”

The bitter smile lingered. “I think she’s in love with someone else.”

“Someone else?”

Paul sighed, and to Giles’s surprise, he reached out to clap him on the shoulder with a hint of their old affection. “Love has turned you into a buffle-headed idiot, old chum. You’re usually quicker on the uptake.”

Giles stared speechless into Paul’s face, at last reading the truth. Without a word, he shoved past the other man and set off for the house at a run.

Chapter Thirteen

* * *

“So I’ve found you.” His heart racing, Giles burst through the high marble doorway of the summerhouse where they’d quarreled a few days ago. Since then, he felt as if he’d lived through a lifetime.

He hurtled to an abrupt stop. Serena sat hunched on the bench. However hard she tried to shrink into the shadows, he could see she’d been crying.

Tags: Anna Campbell Historical
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