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“It’s not nonsense, Saoirse.” My voice isn’t cruel as I say it, but it is firm. “We’re not going to be married. As soon as I can find a time to broach the topic with your father, I will be breaking our engagement—”
Saoirse’s eyes flick over my face, and whatever she sees there, she suddenly goes very still, her own expression hardening. “I would think about what you’re doing, Liam,” she says, her voice cold and quiet. “You’re the younger son of a traitor, whose elder brother abandoned the table in light of his father’s sins. I’m no King, but I’m the daughter of one, and I know them well enough. They won’t take this insult lightly. You risk everything by setting me aside, and you know it.” She narrows her eyes. “I don’t care how sweet this girl’s cunt must be to scramble your brains like this; you need to think this through. If you set me aside, as you’re saying you will, you’re risking everything. Not just your place at the table, Liam, but possibly your life as well. Is she worth that?”
Yes, I think, the moment she says it. But I don’t say it aloud. I can’t pretend that I don’t feel for her. Saoirse is everything I should want—beautiful, intelligent, strong-willed, with a spine of steel and an understanding of duty and what needs to be done in our world. She would make a fine wife for any King. She knows who she is and what her place in this world should be. She doesn’t fight against it or complain—but I can see that she’s not one to always bend to it, either.
Saoirse is the kind of woman who takes what she’s been given and molds it to her own liking.
As Niall would say, I should be falling on my knees with gratitude to be given such a woman. But I can’t.
Since the moment I laid eyes on Ana, there’s never been any woman for me other than her.
“I’m sorry, Saoirse,” I say gently. “It’s nothing to do with you—”
“If you keep talking and say what I think you’re about to say, I’ll kill you myself.” She glares up at me, crossing her arms as she takes a step back. “I’ll say it again, Liam. You should think about this. I won’t say anything to my father for now. I’ll let you have time to reconsider, to think if that girl back in your penthouse is worth losing everything that the McGregor name has left. If she’s worth your legacy.”
Then, she steps past me, sweeping by me with the barest brush of emerald silk against my arm. Saoirse makes it a few paces down the cobblestone path before she turns, letting out a sigh as her arms fall to her sides.
“I wanted you, you know.” She bites her lower lip, her eyes flicking over my face. “I would have been a good wife to you, faithful and true. I could even have loved you, Liam. Iwantedto love you and for you to love me. But now I know better.”
Her eyes meet mine, cool and empty of any emotion, even anger. “It should have been your brother, Liam. It should have been Connor. Never you.”
And then, without another word, she spins on her heel and stalks down the cobblestone path, leaving me there as she disappears into the huge, grand house beyond.
SEVEN
LIAM
After that, I can’t go and talk to Niall. I know that for certain—I know exactly what he’d say. So instead, I call Max, who tells me to come to his hotel room and talk.
At least with Max, I feel less judged.
“I ordered up a bottle of whiskey,” Max says with a knowing look as he opens the door for me to come in. “I thought you might need it. You sounded a bit the worse for wear on the phone.”
I’m not about to tell him about my reunion with Ana—at least not most of it—so I opt to tell him about my meeting with Saoirse instead, sinking down into a chair in the living room portion of his hotel suite and reaching for the whiskey and a cut-glass tumbler. “I told Saoirse that I wouldn’t be marrying her.”
“Ah.” Max raises an eyebrow, reaching for a glass for himself and sitting down opposite me, taking the bottle when I hand it over. “I gather that went about as well as any of us would have expected?”
“She didn’t exactly let me.” I frown, taking a deep gulp of the whiskey. “She told me to think it over, that she wouldn’t say anything to Graham for now, until I had a chance to ‘think about the consequences.”
“And have you? Thought about them, I mean.” Max leans back on the couch, observing me. “What it’ll mean for you and the Kings if you stick with this plan.”
“Of course, I’ve thought about it,” I tell him snappishly. “I’ve done nothing other than think about it, every day, every fuckinghoursince I signed that goddamned betrothal contract and left for Russia with you and Levin. I know exactly what I’m risking. And yet—”
“And yet you keep pushing forward.”
“I don’t know what the hell else to do.” I run a hand through my hair with frustration, taking another gulp of the whiskey.
Then, there’s a knock at the door, startling me, and I sit up, glaring at Max. “Who in the bloody hell is that?”
“I thought it might not be only me you’d need to talk to.” Max gets up, circling around the couch, and reenters with Niall in tow a moment later.
“Bloody hell.” I glare at Max. “Who asked you, anyway?”
“You did,” Max says cheerfully, handing Niall his own glass.
“Lady troubles again?” Niall clinks his glass against mine, taking a seat next to me on the opposite end of the couch. “Which one this time?”
“Both,” Max supplies helpfully, and I glare at him.
