I swallow hard. Not even six years can erase the reality of my parents’ deaths or the gaping hole their absence created in my life.
Liam removes a pen from the pocket of his expensive charcoal suit and hands it to Rowan. “As you discussed with my father six years ago, by signing, you declare Novalee has remained a virgin.”
I hold my breath as my uncle’s hand hovers over the line at the bottom. One flick of his wrist and a little ink, and life as I know it will change forever. That ink will be the start of the end.
Fighting tears, I watch my uncle scrawl his name across the bottom. He sets the pen down carefully, paying small homage to the significance of this moment and the destruction ricocheting through my heart.
“Excellent,” Liam says as he stands. “Before you take your leave, I need a show of good faith from Novalee.”
I’m trying not to wither under the chancellor’s scrutinous stare when my uncle asks the only question in my head.
“What do you have in mind?”
Liam’s light brown eyes refuse to waver from mine. “A sexual favor as a show of her commitment to the contract. Her virginity will remain intact, of course.”
I jump to my feet. “I will do no such thing!” It’s a gut-instinct reaction—an absurd one if I take into account what will be expected of me in the next twelve months.
“You’ll do it because I demand it.” Liam’s brow arches in challenge.
My uncle stands, shooting me a look of warning. “Remember your place, dear niece.”
“My place?” I cross my arms, incredulous, and glare at both of them. “And what exactly is my place?”
“That would be on your knees,” Liam says, taking a step closer.
“Why? Because you’re the chancellor?” I challenge in a scathing tone, knowing full well my mouth will get me into serious trouble with this man if I’m not careful.
“No, my queen. My reasons are a matter of logistics.”
“Logistics?” I say unbelievingly.
“Yes. The position will provide more efficient use of your mouth.”
I turn to my uncle. “You can’t allow this!” The plea echoes, and I’m positive everyone on the first floor hears my outburst.
Rowan sets a heavy hand on my shoulder. “Obedience to the Brotherhood is your duty, Novalee. Kneel before the chancellor.”
I stiffen my legs, refusing to submit even as my eyeballs burn from the impossibility of the circumstances. I want to plead again, but no amount of begging for a different outcome will make the resolution on either man’s face waver.
Because there is no freedom on this island.
No rights as queen of a foreign nation.
No choice.
The unyielding weight of my uncle’s grip sends me to my knees. My chest heaves with indignation as Liam towers in front of me, hands at his back, shoulders wide as the bulge behind his zipper taunts me with what I’ll face for the next twelve months.
Twelve men.
Headstrong and virile.
And all of them determined to own me.
Rowan clears his throat. “I apologize for my niece’s lack of protocol.”
I resist gnashing my teeth.
“She’ll learn.” Liam pets my head as if I’m a prized Pomeranian. “It’ll take some time, but she’ll adapt to our customs.”
“Yes, well, I’m afraid Novalee is a very strong-willed young woman.”
“I assure you, that is an issue I intend to address.”
I cast one last pleading look at my uncle, but the stern line of his mouth fails to give me hope.
“I’ll wait in the parlor while the two of you become acquainted,” he says, and I’m helpless as I watch my final shred of hope disappear through the door. It slams upon his exit, and I jump. The ensuing silence is too invasive. Too consuming.
Liam doesn’t move or speak at first. Neither do I. The seconds tick past as I study his dark gray trousers, purposefully keeping my focus below his zipper. His heightened breathing fractures the quiet, the inhales and exhales shallow and gruff, laden with a hint of what I think is desire.
Has anyone ever sounded so…aroused in my presence before? Stood in front of me like this—with masculine power and appeal? Six years ago, Liam did, though now I realize he held himself back in deference to my age.
“Eyes up here.” His commanding tone rumbles through my bones, drawing my gaze to his face, and there’s no denying how gorgeous he is. Strong jaw, neatly trimmed beard, and that coppery hair I remember from six years ago when he scolded the boy with the wild blond hair. This man stood up for me back then, but that won’t be the case this time.
“You’ve come a long way since that child on her knees,” he says as if our minds are on the same wavelength. He smoothes a palm down the back of my head. “It’s okay to be unsure. I know you’re untouched and innocent. I’m honored to be the first to touch you.”