Chapter 20
Sorcha
Istare at him, then at Ciar, then Cillian.
A laugh bubbles up from my chest, harsh and ugly.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Without a second thought, I storm from the room, fuming more than I think I ever have.
This even beats the time when Mum believed her loser boyfriend over me when he tried to rape me.
I’m pretty sure steam is coming out of my ears as I take the stairs two at a time, tripping over the dressing gown.
I yank the hem up and run, only to come to a stop when I see the Marquess loitering at the top of the stairs.
Okay, loiter is probably the wrong word. Hovering might be better.
“Miss Gannon.” He sidesteps as I barrel forward again, not stopping even for nobility.
I head for my room, and he follows me, stopping in the doorway so I can’t slam the door in his face. “Do you mind?” I hiss. “This is my room.”
“This is my house,” he says in such a matter of fact way, it’s kind of hard to dispute. Apart from, you know, the lack of privacy his statement affords.
“And? That gives you the right to enter a room that was assigned to me without permission?”
He narrows his eyes, but doesn’t move. He leans against the doorway, hands in front of him, clearly visible. But he is still a threat. A threat to my sanity. “I take it you are not impressed by this revelation.”
“Gee, how observant of you,” I drawl.
He doesn’t even blink. “Observation is a key tool for survival, Miss Gannon. Something I’m sure you appreciate. This isn’t about feelings. It’s about strategy. Power.”
“I don’t give a shit about your power. I’m not some broodmare you can sign over to your son to unlock a fucking treasure chest.”
“Of course not,” he says, his tone so smooth it’s insulting. “You are the treasure chest. Every pirate in a five-hundred-mile radius knows it. The blood binding was a good move. It bought you time. But a marriage to a Rhodes is a fortress. It makes you untouchable.”
“I can make myself untouchable.”
“Can you?” His gaze is sharp, cutting. “You fought well tonight, I hear. But you can’t fight everyone, forever. This isn’t about what you can do with your fists. This is about legacy. It’s about winning a war before it even begins.”
“What is this supposed legacy?” I ask, curious despite myself.
He shrugs. “No one knows. Maybe not even the executor.”
“And you have no idea who this fucker is?”
“No, not for lack of trying.”
“Why me?”
“You know why. You are a lone wolf, Sorcha. If your true bloodline hadn’t been revealed, you would still be just a normal girl, the Red Reaper, cutting a swath across southern England.”
“I was never normal.”
“No, you are exceptional,” he says, but not in a creepy way. It’s in a way that I always wanted my mother to say it, so I knew she was proud of me and loved me. “Oisin, for his sins, tried to protect you from this world. He pretended you didn’t exist until he couldn’t.”
“How noble of him.”
“Noble? No. He was anything but. But he knew what he was doing. He knew what you were.”
“So why didn’t he try to protect me by bringing me into his family?” I ask, horrified when tears prick my eyes. I turn from the Marquess and stalk over to the window, my vision blurry, my eyes hot as I stare out over St. Bart’s, a legacy I didn’t even know I had until a few minutes ago.
“I can’t answer that, Miss Gannon, and neither can he. We can’t go backwards, only forwards.”
“And you think me marrying Axl is the way forward?”
“I think marrying Axl triggers the executor to release whatever their family has been protecting all these centuries. Whatever that is becomes yours.”
“And Axl’s.”
“Of course, but yours first and foremost.”
“What if it’s not worth it?” My voice cracks, and I clear my throat.
“Then you are stuck married to a Viscount with a fortune so vast it will make your head spin and power beyond your wildest imagination. Plus, he’s nice to look at and quite fun.”
I snort and turn to face him. “He looks like you, and you definitely don’t seem to be a stuck-up blue-blood, so you think you are nice to look at?”
“My wife seems to think so,” he says with a smile that makes me giggle.
“Wife. Did your wife want to marry you, Marquess Rhodes?”
“Call me Alex, and no, she didn’t. At first.”
“What changed her mind?”
“She fell in love with me.”
Love. He had to pull that fucking card out, didn’t he?
The word lands between us like a grenade. I’ve only just found the courage to say it to them, and now he’s using it against me.
I scoff, wrapping the thick dressing gown tighter around myself. “You think it’s that easy? That I’ll just fall in love with him enough to want to marry him?”
Alex’s smile doesn’t falter. It’s the kind of smile that has probably dismantled empires. “My dear, by all accounts, the falling part is already done. This is just about the landing.”
“What about Ciar and Cillian?”
“Love is messy, Miss Gannon. Power is not. A marriage to my son secures your power. What you do with your heart… well, a Rhodes has never been known to be conventional in matters of love.” His eyes gleam. “Consider it an alliance. Every good queen needs a strong council.”
“That’s it? You don’t have any scathing words for a woman who is in love with three men?”
“So, you admit to loving my son?”
Damn him.
“I am not your wife. Marriage goes against everything I believe in.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want to lose my identity,” I snap. “I don’t want to give up my name, my life, my being to be someone’s other half.”
“That’s a rather simplistic view to take, Miss Gannon. No one said you had to do any of those things. My wife holds a higher ranking than I do. She has never given those up, nor her name.”
“So, you punched above your weight?”
“Very much so,” he says with a wicked smile that he definitely passed down to Axl.
I grimace at him. He is impossible to insult.
“He’s very good at what he does, isn’t he?” Axl’s voice cuts in from the doorway, and I jump. Ciar and Cillian are right behind him. Alex pushes off from the doorway, and they fill the space.
“He’s a manipulative bastard,” I retort, my glare shifting from Alex to Axl. “Like father, like son.”
“It’s not manipulation if it’s the truth,” Alex says smoothly. “It’s simply presenting the facts in a way that highlights the most advantageous path.”
“Advantageous for who?” I snap. “For you? For the Rhodes family?”
“For you, Sorcha,” Ciar says. “This isn’t about them. It’s about putting a fucking fortress around you that no one can tear down.”
“This is about giving Cian no reason to come back for you.”
“Ouch,” I mutter, glaring at Axl.
I look between them, at the three men I love. The anger drains away, replaced by a cold, weary ache. “I need to think.” I turn my back on all of them, facing the window again, my reflection a pale, battered ghost in the dark glass.