“She loves to travel, this one. All over. Must have gotten it from her mother because I prefer to keep to New Orleans when I’m not needed in DC,” Rory says between deep gulps from his wineglass. He snaps his fingers as soon as Frances reenters the room and gestures for her to refill his glass before she serves the next course.
I frown at his arrogance, hiding it behind my glass.
“I was sorry to learn about her passing,” I say to Elizabeth.
She drops her head to study the table with a murmured, “Thank you.”
“Her mother was the most beautiful ofhersisters, as well. Knew I had to have her as soon as I set my eyes on her. I did. It’s a shame she’s gone. A damn shame.”
All I can spare for him is a grunt before I force myself to study Elizabeth. You’d think I could substitute her for Catriona, considering how much they look alike. But I don’t feel a damn thing when I look at her other than obligation and resignation. She’s too fucking young for me, but that’s nothing compared to the list of my sins.
Schemes swirl in my thoughts, mixing with the lightning strike of my desire for revenge as I say to Elizabeth, “How are you liking the potato leek soup? Frances is my secret weapon in the kitchen. No one in New Orleans can compare.”
Elizabeth smiles shyly. “It’s wonderful, thank you. You have a lovely home. Have you been in New Orleans long? I love your accent, so I’m assuming you grew up in Ireland? Our mother was from Dublin.”
“A Dub. I like the city well enough. Dublin’s grand, but I like the country, myself. My family is from the western coast, County Clare.”
“I’ve always wanted to go there. The cliffs must be gorgeous.”
Catriona’s loathing burns a path into the side of my skull. I hide my smile behind a deep drink of wine as Rory picks up the conversation. I wish we could have skipped this dinner altogether, but I wanted at least one meeting with the woman I’m supposed to marry before I met her at the altar. I may want to see my mother, but I draw the line at forcing this girl to go through with it. I’d rather kill Rory and get it over with.
Sensing the strange tension in the air, Elizabeth blinks rapidly and busies herself with buttering a roll and stuffing it in her mouth. She may not be ready for my life as it stands, but I could change that easily enough with enough trainingand positive reinforcement. The fact that I care nothing for her should be protection in and of itself.
The clink of Frances clearing the soup bowls punctuates the growing tension. Rory hasn’t touched his food, but Catriona has methodically emptied hers, like a soldier preparing for battle. Her eyes keep darting between me and her sister, calculations clearly running behind that sharp glower. I recognize that look—it’s the same one she wore at my estate right before she suggested we flip a coin to see if I’d let her go. She’s planning something. Scheming. Does the woman ever stop herfuckingscheming?
Curious, I luxuriate in the weight of Catriona’s all-consuming hatred directed at me and say to Elizabeth, “Has Rory explained why you’re here tonight, Elizabeth?”
“O’Con—” Rory starts, but I silence his outraged objection with a mild look. Christ, I’m tired of his voice. I don’t think the man knows how to shut the fuck up.
“Your father owes the man I work for a great deal of money.” I’m speaking to Elizabeth, but every iota of my attention is on Catriona, who stiffens at my words. If she’s going to be a problem, I’d bet the Emerald she’ll show her hand tonight. Once that’s over with and the wedding is done, there will be nothing standing in my way of getting Cian’s approval to visit my mother.
Elizabeth’s face twitches as though she wants to glance at her sister, but she stops herself just in time. “Do you know what he promised me in exchange?”
Elizabeth keeps her expression blank. Impressive. “What—what did he promise you?” she asks.
“He promised me you,” I answer.
The only show of emotion Elizabeth gives is her hand turning white around the stem of her water glass. “Right,” she breathes, and sets the glass aside before clearing her throat and daringto glance at her father, who gives her an encouraging nod. Elizabeth squares her shoulders and opens her mouth to speak.
“Like hell,” Catriona bursts out, finally unable to contain herself. She pushes away from the table, evading her father’s grasp and rounding the place where I sit to stand next to her sister, her hands wrapping around the back of the chair until the wood creaks under her fingers. Her furious honeypot eyes ping back and forth between her father and me. “You can’t be fucking serious. You’re selling her to pay your debts? Your own daughter?”
The look she gives him would flay a lesser man, but Rory’s either impervious to the disdain of others or incredibly ignorant. Maybe a little of both. I down the rest of my wine, settling into a pleasant buzz and wondering if Frances will think me insane if I ask her for a fry-up when they’re gone.
“Sit down, Catriona,” Rory barks, spittle flying, his sour breath a pungent cloud at my cheek. “It’s done.”
Catriona seems at a loss for words—a first, I have no doubt. I lean back in my seat, refreshing the wine in my glass as I settle in to watch the scene play out and hoping they’ll be quick about it.
“You can’t make her do this. You can’t,” Catriona says to her father. “She’s too young. Please don’t do this. You don’t even know what he’s capable of.”
“It’s done,” Rory snaps again, as he cuts a hand through the air.
Elizabeth murmurs to her sister at the finality of the proclamation, and Catriona’s eyes blaze. Really, her passion is an inspiration, but can’t she tell it’s a waste of time? Poor girl. It must be exhausting to care so deeply about everything.
“I warned you not to ruin this for me,” Rory says, and I silence him with a gesture. His teeth clack together with how quickly he obeys.
Now, who’s the good dog?
I lift a brow at Catriona, giving her space to speak, ready to get this over with. Her head swings toward me, leveling me with her contempt. The rest of the room drops away, throwing me back to when I’d last held her in my grasp.
