The Bride Goes Rogue (The Fifth Avenue Rebels #3)(86)

“Insightful. Read that in an advert for union suits, did you?”

Lloyd’s arms dropped against his sides as if he were exasperated. “What I’m saying is that you would never have gone so far in such a short amount of time if I helped you. You didn’t need it, and look at how successful you are now.”

This was more than Preston could handle at the moment. He didn’t want to acknowledge that there might be a grain of truth to what Lloyd had said. He didn’t want to feel anything besides hatred for this man. “Where is Katherine? I want to see her.”

“She doesn’t want to see you.”

“I don’t believe you.” Though a sickening feeling settled in Preston’s stomach, the fear that Lloyd may be right. She left without a word, after all.

“I was with her when you were announced,” Lloyd said. “She’s not coming.”

“You’re lying.” Preston strode out of the drawing room and headed for the stairs. A hand landed on his arm, stopping him.

“Have you lost your mind?” Lloyd’s mouth was flat and unhappy. “You are not going to bumble around my home, looking for her.”

Fine. If that was how they were going to play this, then he’d find another way. Preston threw his head back and bellowed, “Katherine! Come out here right now.”

“Get out of my house.” Lloyd began shoving him toward the front door, but Preston kept watch on the steps.

“I want to speak with her.”

“Marry her and you can speak with her all you like.”

Marry her.

The words whispered across Preston’s skin and sank into whatever was left of his soul, the idea both tantalizing and fantastical at the same time. He hated that it was Lloyd who teased him with it, dangling his own daughter out like a piece of fruit to a starving man. Anger caused him to snap, “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, if I honored that ridiculous betrothal agreement?”

“Actually, no. I want her to marry someone who loves and respects her. I’m not convinced you are—”

“Daddy, stop.”

Both men spun toward the stairs and there she was, looking tired but incredibly beautiful. Preston’s heart thumped hard in his chest, as if the organ beat just for her. “Katherine.”

Her gaze held no warmth, no hint that they’d exchanged bone-rattling orgasms last night. “Mr. Clarke, I’ll see you in the drawing room.”



Ripping his arm from Lloyd’s grip, Preston returned to the drawing room, where he paced like a caged tiger. He heard Katherine having a quiet word with her father in the corridor, but he was too far away to make out what they were saying. Then she entered and he had to suppress the impulse to take her into his arms. He wanted to hold her close, to feel her skin and smell her hair.

He never wanted to let her go.

She slid the pocket door closed, giving them some privacy. When she turned, she crossed her arms and glared at him. “Have you lost all your good sense? I spent most of the day trying to convince my father nothing happened between you and I, and you’ve ruined that effort in just a few seconds.”

“I woke up and you were gone, Kat. I have been worried sick.”

“I wrote you a note.”

“Where? I didn’t find any note.”

“On the workbench in your kitchen.”

He hadn’t done more than poke his head into the kitchen while searching for her. “Rather an odd place to leave such an important piece of paper, wouldn’t you say?”

“I thought you’d see it first thing, while you were making coffee.”

“Why on earth would I be making coffee when you are missing?”

“I wasn’t missing, Preston. I left.”

“I thought you were lost in the woods or had been eaten by a bear.”

“I apologize. I didn’t think you’d be so worried.”

A frustrated noise escaped his throat. “You didn’t think I would worry? My God, Katherine. I think today took ten years off my life.”

“I’m sorry. Truly.”

He stepped closer, needing to erase the distance between them. “Didn’t you believe me when I said I care about you?”

“Yes. I think, in your own way, you care about me. But it’s not enough, Preston.”

“In my own way? What does that mean?”

She was calm and poised, as if the answer was obvious. “It means you care about your projects and your company more than anything else. Your priorities are clear.”

It was an accusation he’d heard before from countless people in his life, but this was the first time it felt unwarranted. “Is that why I chased you to the Adirondacks for the better part of a week? I’ve ignored everything for days in order to look after you.”

“Out of guilt! You stole that property from my father, from me, and because you’d like me”—she dropped her voice to barely above a whisper—“back in your bed, you rushed upstate to calm my ruffled feathers.”

He opened his mouth to deny it . . . and promptly shut it. She wasn’t wrong, though he didn’t like how it was phrased. “First of all, I didn’t steal that property. Your father stole it from me, and I rightfully took it back. Next, I can’t deny that I’d like to carry on with our relationship.”