If You Dare by Kresley Cole

everyone here.”
    Court gave a harsh laugh. “Now that sounds very noble, but why do you no’ tell them what you told me at the door? You want us gone to preserve appearances.”
    She didn’t back down. “That is important as well. If my reputation is tarnished, I will not be able to make the match that is expected of me.”
    Niall muttered, “Court, she’s right—”
    He interrupted, “You were planning to ask me for something tonight, were you no’? Do it now.”
    She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it and turned her face away.
    â€œPerhaps in the morning you’ll be inclined to make your request. Perhaps we’ll be inclined to hear it—if we stay here.”
    She faced him again. “Very well, stay. We can speak when I return—”
    â€œYou stay here, too.”
    She straightened her choker, appearing so miserable he almostrelented. He could feel his men watching him and her, knew they were confounded by his behavior.
    She swallowed and then said in a pained tone, “Yes, of course. I extend my welcome to your men and look forward to our meeting.”
    â€œGo to bed, Annalía. You’ll need your rest after the night we’ve had.” She looked like she’d been struck, gasping a breath before sweeping from the room.
    Niall didn’t wait until she was even out of earshot. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
    â€œDoona start on me. She’s no’ as helpless as she appears and she’s been insulting me regularly for a week.” When Niall looked unconvinced, Court added, “She’s calculating and she’s spoiled, and tonight she sought to manipulate me, cutting her teeth and testing her wiles.” He ran a hand over the back of his neck, uneasy because he knew if she’d had any experience . . . she could’ve worked him like dough. “It was no’ right.”
    Niall shook his head. “I doona believe I’ve ever seen you treat a lass this poorly.”
    â€œThat’s because you’ve no’ met a woman like her. I’m telling you, you’ve never known such an arrogant female in your life. Tomorrow you’ll see.”

Seven

    A nnalía had awakened before dawn to wretched memories of her deeds the night before.
    She’d known several unsavory things about her character. She’d realized flaws in her morality—apparently inherent flaws. Now she knew another fact: In the presence of whisky, the simple application of a man’s lips to her own, and then to her chest, induced her to lose her mind.
    And this morning she would have to ask that Philistine for his help in front of his hulking . . . associates. She would force herself to do it, even though she knew that if he did decide to help her, he would first make her . . . grovel.
    But by no means did she count on his assistance. Before the sun had risen, she’d dragged Vitale from bed and instructed him to have Iambe ready. She was due at Pascal’s today, and if she couldn’t persuade the Highlander to help her, then she was gone. She’d left her travel bags in the stable, confident that if she needed to leave in a hurry, she could.
    Yet Vitale had quarreled with her over her plan because he didn’t want her to leave under any circumstances, whether she could sway the mercenaries or not.
    Even lusty old Vitale feared what a monster like Pascal would do to her on their wedding night. She wasn’t as nervous as she had been, though. She quite liked kissing, and that had been with a ruffian she loathed. The rumors had it that Pascal was very meticulous about his dress and cleanliness, so truly, how much worse could it be?
    She’d returned to her room before the Highlanders had risen and had taken extra care with her hair and dress. Now that she heard them milling about, she descended.
    When she approached the parlor, she had to bite her