Meghan’s stomach revolted.
And any one of her male relatives would be all too happy to do it.
August released Arran, and she breathed easier.
“Brone,” she said softly; her pulse thundered in her ears, making a mockery of her pretense at calm.
“Stay away, Meggy.” Brone shook August’s proud body for measure.
His gaze slipped, lingered on Meghan’s, and she knew what he saw.
The skin of her legs where the length of Arran’s jacket did not reach. Her bare feet.
“Oh, God.” Brone’s teeth began to chatter. “We heard him use you like a whore.”
She recoiled. Meghan swallowed her moan.“No!”Agony ripped fresh through her chest. “It wasn’t like that. I wanted—”
The crazed glint in his eyes made her rethink finishing—at least that portion.
She lifted her hand in entreaty. “Brone.” She made herself leave August.
Brone’s anguished eyes swung to her palm, and she kept coming.
“Meghan.” Campbell saw the step. He warned.
She ignored.
“Brone,” she murmured her brother’s name again, because the more she said it, the less maniacal the glint in his eyes became.
Meghan appealed to Brone, believer in love. Brone, who knew it was real, who had it for himself.
“I love him,” she whispered.
The room stilled.
The walls of the ship groaned. Timber creaked.
Hope slipped into her heart.
Meghan looked to August.
Tell them.She willed him with her eyes.Tell them you love me.
He gave his head the slightest imperceptible shake.
Meghan’s brow pulled together. She stared, confused.
The cracked and bleeding corners of his mouth attempted a smile.
For her.
A dull ache in her ribs throbbed.
“I love you,” he mouthed.
A sudden tightness seized her throat.
It was for her alone.
