He knew their association had lasted well beyond what he had meant it to. For the mess the woman had created for him tonight that resulted in him almost ripping the hooks off Caroline’s gown in an alcove outside of a ballroom filled with over a hundred people, damn well reminded him that if he wasn’t careful, Theodosia would end up doing what she did best: orchestrating people’s lives, particularly his. Ronan stalked toward the mahogany table that was unceremoniously cluttered with decanters of cognac, reached out a heavy arm and grabbed a crystal filled with cognac. The amber liquid swayed from side to side within the narrow throat of the decanter, and he knew it made no sense filling a glass he’d have to keep tending to. Bringing the rim of the smooth crystal to his lips, he tilted back his head and drank down the liquid. He forced down more and more and more, trying to finish as much as he could without coming up for air. A muffled knock came to the door. He stiffened and broke away from the cognac, but somehow forgot to level out the decanter.
