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Perceptibly flustered and her voice breathy, Faith seemed slightly panicked, and for a blink of her long lashes, he almost hesitated to proceed. Utterly flummoxed, she dropped the apple onto her lap and blinked so rapidly that she might’ve had a lash fall into her eye.

“Marry me, Faith. It’s the perfect solution. Not only will it curb any gossip, but it also allows us to continue to work together.”

Constantine cringed inwardly at how impersonal his proposal sounded. He was bloody awful at this sort of thing. Always had been. Pretty words and romantic phrases were as foreign to him as face paint and curling irons.

Eyes round pools of incredulous astonishment, Faith gaped at him, slack-mouthed.

For the first time in their acquaintance, Constantine had rendered her speechless.

He scrambled for other less mercenary reasons the match benefited them both. Giving Faith's hand an encouraging squeeze, he forged onward with a new tact.

“We respect each other, and our kisses lead me to believe we’d suit in other areas too. You would have the family you’ve been denied, and your future would be secure with me. Finances would never be an issue for you either.”

Probably too soon to mention bedding her.

“Are you…?” Her chest rose as she inhaled a deep breath and eyed him as if he’d turned pink and grown a spiral horn from his forehead. “Are you suggesting a marriage of… convenience with me?”

Her voice rising an octave on the last word ought to have warned Constantine, but the truth of it was, he was rather more nervous than he’d anticipated being. His heart bludgeoned his ribs, his blood careened along his veins like a runaway stallion, and a sharp rock jabbed mercilessly at his knee.

He nodded and raised her hand to his mouth.

“I am. Say yes, Faith. A match between us is not only logical and convenient, but it also solves so many problems.”

“Prob-lems?” Faith sputtered, her eyes dual storm clouds as she jerked her hand away. “Problems?” She said again, this time more forcibly. She opened and closed her mouth twice before a choppy tirade of invectives tumbled forth.

“Of all the… I cannot believe… Beyond the pale… Infuriating… Who does he…? MY GOD!”

Not precisely the reaction Constantine had anticipated.

He was the son of a duke.

Faith was an orphan of questionable lineage.

A union between them was much more beneficial to her than to him. Didn’t she understand that? Unless she harbored a romantic notion of falling in love, that was.

No. That was ludicrous.

Faith wasn’t the sort of woman who’d appreciate syrupy sonnets or inflated displays of devotion. At least nothing in her comportment since they’d met suggested she was given to nonsensical fantasies about love.

Blast.

Constantine hadn’t considered that possibility—a strategic error on his part.

“You arrogant, self-centered, dimwitted, clueless…Oooh!” Faith fisted her hands, and something very near a growl of frustrated anger hissed through her clenched teeth.

“We may come to feel affection for one another in time,” he blundered onward, grasping at anything that might win her over. “My parents did…”

That had been the absolute wrong thing to say.

“No.” Tears filled Faith’s eyes as she frantically shook her head, causing several strawberry blonde curls to slip loose of their pins. “No.”

She rose to her knees and hurled the apple like a miniature cannonball, hitting him in the middle of his chest.

“NO!”

The well of tears overflowed, spilling down her cheeks.

Her pain eviscerated Constantine, and he shifted to embrace and comfort her.