Stroking my collar, I smiled coyly. “All your readers need to know is Jethro completes me both in and out of the bedroom.”
George laughed, slapping his thigh. “Now, that’s a politically correct reply, if I ever heard one.”
Jethro reclined, spreading his arm over the back of the loveseat. “The rumours about death and debts are complete lies. However, some parts are indeed true.”
I didn’t know how he did it, but in a few short sentences, he’d enraptured George and Sylvie.
“Oh, how so?”
“People no longer accept the idea of arranged marriages. They like to think we’re all free to do what we like, when we like, but realistically, we are allstill governed by class, income, our family tree.” He ran a hand through his hair. “My family has known the Weavers for six hundred years. We’ve effectively grown up together, crossing paths and healing feuds, and ultimately agreeing to come together to form a strong alliance.”
George frowned. “So you’re saying this so-called Debt Inheritance is what? A marriage contract?”
Jethro shook his head. “Not quite. It’s an agreement of debts between two houses that strive to support each other with payments in different forms throughout the years.”
I blinked stupidly, unable to believe the way Jethro spun three weeks of rumours. It made people seem ridiculous—clutching at straws and jumping onto a witch-hunt they knew nothing about.
He sounded so reasonable, sojustifiable.
His speech was too perfect not to be scripted...perhaps by Bonnie.
Bonnie.
Did she tell Jethro to come and collect me, or was she against this development? After all, she’d kicked me out. She was the one who wanted me gone.
“And you, Ms. Weaver. That’s how your family sees this Debt Inheritance, too?” George pinned his baby-blues on me.
“Yes, of course. What else could it be? To think that one family owns another is completely ludicrous. We support one another. Sure, at times there’s some unrest and rivalry, but for the most part, we’re one big happy family.”
Maids arrived with fresh tea and a three-tier cake stand with cucumber sandwiches and éclairs.
George grabbed one, jotting down a few notes. “So really...it’s the age-old ‘mountain out of a mole hill’ kinda thing.”
Jethro crossed his ankles, ignoring the finger food. “Yes. Not that it’s anyone’s business, but our two influential families have always prospered by linking our history. It’s such a shame that after centuries of friendship, it’s come down to Mr. Weaver spreading such terrible lies.”
I sucked in a breath. I wanted to tell the truth but what good would it do? Would it stop the Hawks from breaking countless laws—would it save my life?
Vaughn had told the world, yet even with so much gossip, it was still his word against the Hawks. And they sounded so much more believable than him. A sure way to disband the Twitter posters and bury old Facebook shout-outs under new intrigue.
George swallowed a bite of cucumber sandwich. “Are you happy to be back? After the time away?”
This was it. My turn to lie as spectacularly as Jethro.
Swooning into Jethro’s side, I snuggled against his chest and sighed dramatically. “Oh, yes. Every night we messaged each other. And every night we professed our belonging and knowledge that we wouldn’t let lies come between us.”
Jethro stiffened then slowly wrapped an icy arm around my shoulders.
My body trembled with the need to be hugged—for real. Having the weight of his body cloaking mine did nothing to ease the inconsolable pain inside my heart.
I wanted to hurt him as much as he’d hurt me.
I wanted him to wake up!
But how?
Then suddenly, I knewexactlyhow. How to get back at him for what he’d done to me. How to announce to Cut that his plan to steal my right to bear children wouldn’t come without consequences.
Placing my hand on Jethro’s chest, I sought out the flat-line and uninterested beat of his heart. “It was agony being apart.” Dropping my voice to a breathy whisper, I said, “I was so homesick for Jethro; I threw up almost every day.”
