Page 91 of Branded

“You married my daughter without asking permission first,” he says.

“Yes, sir. And I apologize for that. Things moved fast, and I realize now how disrespectful that is to you.”

“Is that some kind of excuse?”

“No, sir. Just an explanation.” I meet his eyes steadily. “I should have called you before we got married. Should have done things the right way. But I didn’t want to risk losing her.”

Something flickers in Warren’s expression, grudging respect, maybe, for the not quite honest answer.

“Come inside,” he finally says, turning with the careful balance of someone who’s had to relearn movement. “The family eavesdropping in the doorway is anxious to meet you properly.”

He nods and moves inside, the tap of his cane marking each step. Lennox looks up at me, her eyes wide.

We walk inside together, and I immediately feel the weight of multiple stares. The living room is packed, three men who have to be Lennox’s brothers, three women around her age who must be her sisters and sister-in-law. And in the corner, looking like she wants to disappear, is a small dark-haired woman I recognize from the auction paperwork.

Janie Turner. The woman Lennox saved by taking her place.

Our eyes meet for a split second, and I see terror in hers. She knows. Knows exactly what I am, what I’ve done, what Lennox has sacrificed.

I give her an almost imperceptible nod, and some of the panic leaves her face.

“Everyone,” Warren says, settling into what is clearly his chair, positioned so he can lean his cane against the armrest, his weaker left side supported. “This is Sebastian Drake. Lennox’s husband. Sebastian, these are my sons, Cage, Crew and Cole. My daughters, Emma and Grace, Crew’s wife Lark, and that’s Janie Turner, a family friend.”

I shake hands with each of them, reading reactions. Cage assesses me like prize livestock at auction, practical, thorough, looking for flaws. Cole is openly suspicious, his handshake just shy of aggressive. Crew seems friendlier, but his glare is slightly intimidating. Emma seems curious, her smile genuine, but her eyes sharp. Grace is skeptical, barely touching my hand before pulling back.

And through it all, Lennox stays pressed against my side, her body tense with nerves.

“Sit.” Warren gestures to the couch. “We’re going to have a conversation before dinner. Get to know each other.”

I sit, pulling Lennox down beside me, keeping my arm around her shoulders. Claiming her publicly, but also providing support. Showing her family that whatever else I am, I’m with her.

“So, Sebastian.” Warren leans forward slightly, his right hand gripping the head of his cane. “Tell me about yourself. How you built your business. What kind of man you are. And most importantly, how you met my daughter.”

“I met Lennox at my resort in Monterey,” I start, the story we agreed on rolling out smoothly. “She was working in guest relations. I noticed her immediately, not just because she’s beautiful, but because she’s competent. Professional. The kind of employee who anticipated problems before they happened.”

“So you noticed an employee,” Cage says. “That’s how this started?”

“That’s how it started. But it became something more pretty quickly.” I look at Lennox, and what I say next isn’t entirely a lie. “She challenged me. Didn’t treat me like someone to impress. Just – treated me like a person. And I hadn’t had that in a long time.”

“She told you off, didn’t she?” Cole asks, nodding like he knows full well what his sister is capable of.

“No, she didn’t, it was worse; she ignored me. I think I would have welcomed being told off instead of what she did.” I laugh lightly, and Lennox shakes her head.

“How long did you dance around one another?” Lark asks as she takes a seat in the chair across from us. She’s probably tired of standing being so pregnant.

“About three months. Lennox worked for the resort for six months, but it took me three months to even get her to notice me. I know it’s fast⁠—”

“Fast?” Warren’s voice hardens. “It’s reckless. You barely know each other.”

“With respect, sir, I know her better than you think.” I tighten my arm around Lennox’s shoulders. “I know she’s stubborn and proud and will work herself into the ground before asking for help. I know she loves her family, but needs space from expectations she didn’t choose. I know she’s brilliant with cattle and horses, and that she understands ranching in her bones.” I pause, making sure Warren hears this part—“And I’m trying every day to be the man who deserves her.”

Silence fills the room. Lennox’s hand finds mine on her shoulder, squeezing once.

Warren stares at me for a long moment. “Pretty words. But words are easy. Actions are what matter. So tell me, Sebastian—why is my daughter here alone after a month of marriage? Why isn’t she with you in Texas?”

“Because I fucked up, sir. There’s no other way to say it.”

“So you’re having problems?” Warren interprets.