Adradys made a tsking sound. “I wish it were possible, but alas, you know how tongues wag. There are no secrets among the aristocracy.”
Harlow’s dragon wanted to tear out of her skin and claw at the man’s face. His stupid, arrogant face. Her mother’s cheeks were pink, and her father seemed suddenly obsessed with his stew. That was it. Her heart pounded in her ears as she turned toward him, ready to unleash her fury on the pitiful man.
He silenced her with a raised hand. “Please, let me finish. I have a plan that I think will solve all your problems.”
Harlow was struck speechless. She stared at him. “You do?”
“I planned to keep this for after dinner, but it seems the goddess has different plans.” He pulled a small box from his pocket. “Marry me, Harlow. Become my wife, and together we will slowly rebuild your family’s reputation, and in the meantime, not only will I make you comfortable but them as well. Marry me, and I will return you to the station to which you are accustomed.” He popped open the box to reveal a sapphire ring, a smaller version of his own.
Open-mouthed, Harlow couldn’t suppress the look of horror and disgust at the idea. She glanced between her mother and father, begging each with her eyes to help her out of this. She received no such help. Her mother gasped and raised her hands to her mouth, staring down at the ring as if it were the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. Her father’s eyebrows darted toward his hairline as if he’d just stumbled upon an abandoned pile of gold.
Engagement rings among dragons were not unheard of but also weren’t common. All dragons had a magical ring that represented their heart in dragon form. Her amethyst ring could never be removed. This one was supposed to be worn on her opposite hand. It was a brand—a mark of ownership. She’d be literally wearing a replica of his heart on her ring finger.
And because of the size and the craftsmanship, anyone who saw it would know she belonged to someone wealthy and influential even if they didn’t know it was Adradys. It would ensure that no male would dare come near her once they were wed, and anyone else who dealt with her would do so under the specter of his ownership. He would not be taking a replica of her ring, of course. That was unheard of in these relationships. After all, they weren’t mates. He’d likely take a lover in a few years, as was common among the aristocracy, as soon as he grew bored with her body and their bed.
“No,” she said with as much certainty as she could load into one word.
He tucked his chin in toward his chest. “Excuse me?”
Her mother leaped to her feet. “What she means is, that like any intelligent young woman, she would like to take some time to think about your proposal.”
“I would be a terrible wife to you,” Harlow blurted. “I like my freedom far too much.”
He leaned forward and placed his hand lightly on top of hers. It reminded her of a snake’s belly slithering over her skin. “I know what I’m getting myself into proposing to an older dragon.” He gave her a condescending grin. “But I promise you, I run my household with a firm hand. I’ll break you of your unfavorable habits in no time. Why, I will take pleasure in it.”
“Any woman would be lucky to have you,” her father interjected.
Harlow didn’t know what to say. Everyone stared at her expectantly. She had no intention of accepting. Not while there was air in her lungs. But her skin crawled to end the tension in the room.
“As my mother suggested, it is customary for me to take time to think about my answer,” she said stiffly.
He set the box beside her on the table. “Very well. Not too much time, Harlow. A man such as myself has many distractions.” He smoothed the front of his suit, stood from the table, and gave a shallow bow before moving for the door. “Thank you for the stew, Lemetria. I do hope we can do this again”—he gestured vaguely around their cottage—“under more favorable circumstances.”
Chapter Eleven
After a long night’s rest blissfully free of nightmares, Marius met Harlow at the pit and was pleasantly surprised to find her alone. “Where’s Brantley? I thought we were sparring today.”
“Sick whelp. We’ll work on conditioning.” She raised an eyebrow. “We can make up the sparring session later this week.”
A slow, wolfish smile spread across his face. He let his eyes gravitate to the breeches and tunic she wore, distracted by the way the curve of her calf sloped toward her inner thigh. “Unless you’d care to spar with me in his place?”
She snorted and gave her head a little shake. “Conditioning. Try to keep up.” Without another word, she took off along the path toward Hobble Glen.
He snapped out of his enthrallment and jogged after her. After being the key word in that sentence. By the Mountain, she was fast. And although the view from behind her was pleasurable, he had his pride. Forcing his legs to move faster, he caught up to her before the guard tower and tried not to look like he was going to die as the guardsmen waved them through.
“Can I ask you something?” he huffed out. Honestly, as she picked up the pace, he wondered if he was physically capable of asking her anything around his pounding heart and labored breaths.
“You can ask. I’m not guaranteeing an answer.” She shot him a sweaty smile.
“Did you take this job because of what happened to your family?”
Her smile faded. “Does it matter? I told you I wanted the money.”
“You told me you wanted the money. You don’t just want it, you need it. Your family is…”
“Struggling financially?” Her cheeks reddened and she cringed. “Yes, we are. I never said we weren’t.”
Was that true? He thought back, huffing harder. He couldn’t remember speaking about it specifically. “Maybe it wasn’t said, but at the coronation, you allowed me to believe you were still a member of the aristocracy.”
