“Damnit, chill,” one of Anna’s brothers snarled, and glared first at Draco and then at the other three. “Been there, done that,” the guy growled, and damned if the rest of them didn’t sort of hang their heads.
“And now you’re here,” said the one who’d slugged him. “What took you so long?”
Draco had expected the question. His answer was blunt and honest.
“She said something that hurt me. About—about having been with other men.”
“Let me get this straight,” one Orsini said. “You’re into a double standard?”
“No. I am not. It was only that—that by then Anna had made me forget every woman I’d ever known. To think that I had not done the same for her …”
“Yeah, okay. No need for specifics.”
“I still don’t get it. You think we’re going to tell you that you can make our sister your mistress?”
Draco narrowed his eyes. It was one thing to be deferential, but quite another to be taken for a fool.
“If I wanted her to be my mistress,” he said quietly, “I’d go to her, not you.”
“Then what do you want?”
Draco took a breath. “Anna loves the four of you.”
“Damned right. And we love her.”
“I am Italian.”
“If you think that makes this better—”
“I am also a prince.”
“Whoopee,” one of the brothers said, his tone flat and insulting.
“What I mean is that I carry a name that had once been respected.” Hell. This wasn’t going well. “But my father sullied that name, and I have spent my life trying to restore honor to it.”
The atmosphere in the room eased, if only a little.
“Go on.”
“You don’t know the half,” one of the brothers muttered.
“In Italy, honor demanded asking permission of a woman’s family before asking for her hand in marriage.”
A muscle twitched in one of those grim jaws.
“Is that why you’re here? You want Anna to marry you, and us to tell her that she should?” Four deep, unpleasant barks of laughter. “If you knew anything about our sister, you’d know that nobody can tell her what to do.”
“No,” Draco said softly. “It’s one of the things I love about her. I will do the asking, not any of you.”
“And why should she say yes?”
“Because I adore her,” Draco said gruffly. “And she loves me.” Nothing. Not even a twitch. Draco narrowed his eyes. Eating crow was one thing; eating an entire rookery’s worth was another. “I know that she loves me. It is the reason she acted as she did when she found out what I’d done.”
“The bastard stood there,” one of the brothers said grimly, “and watched her cry.”
“She didn’t cry. Another woman would have.” Draco paused. “Anna hit me.”
Silence. And then the Orsinis began to laugh. But as quickly as the laughter started, it stopped.