Page 37 of Branded

“Caroline.” Sebastian’s voice is dangerously quiet. “That’s enough.”

“I’m protecting family interests⁠—”

“You’re insulting my wife.” Sebastian stands, and even from the other end of the table, I can feel the threat radiating off him. “Apologize. Now.”

Caroline holds his stare for a long moment, then turns to me. “I apologize if my directness offended you. But I’m not sorry for asking questions that need to be asked.”

“I understand,” I say, surprising myself. “If my brother came home married to someone none of us had met, I’d have questions too. Probably ruder ones than you’ve asked.”

That seems to catch Caroline off guard. She blinks, reassessing.

“However,” I continue, “I’m not pregnant, I have no debt that needs to be paid off, and I didn’t borrow money. And the only arrangement between Sebastian and me, besides the two-year contract, is the one all married couples have: we’re building a life together. If that benefits me, good. It should. That’s how marriage works.”

“If you have no debt, how did you end up at the auction?” Caroline’s questions are relentless.

“Caroline, stand down. The girl’s answered every question you’ve lobbed at her and she’s got her own voice and mind, and she’s not afraid to use it. That’s all we need to know,” Walker says as he reaches for his glass.

Caroline studies me for another moment, then nods slowly. “Fair enough. Welcome to the family, Lennox. May you survive us.” She lifts her glass and downs the remainder of her wine.

“I’ve survived Montana winters, my father’s irrational temper and my mother abandoning our family. I think I can handle you.”

James laughs, the small boy gone, and the jovial man returned. “Oh, I like her. Sebastian, you did good.”

The tension breaks, and conversation resumes as the staff clear soup bowls and bring out the next course. Eleanor turns to me with something that might be approval in her eyes.

“You handled that well,” she says quietly. “Caroline can be intense.”

“She’s protective, I can respect that.”

“Can you?” Eleanor studies me. “Even when she’s questioning your motives, your character, your place in this family?”

“Especially then.” I meet her eyes. “It means she cares about Sebastian. About the family. I’d rather be questioned by someone who cares than welcomed by someone who doesn’t.”

Eleanor’s expression softens fractionally. “You’re more perceptive than I expected.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“It’s an observation.” She pauses. “Sebastian hasn’t brought a woman home in over ten years. The last one was, well, unsuitable. Weak. She lasted two days here before running back to California crying.”

“What happened?”

“She realized what being a Drake meant. She couldn’t handle it.” Eleanor’s eyes find mine. “Can you?”

I think about the auction. About Margaret’s examination. About being fucked against a stone wall an hour before dinner. About the next seven hundred and twenty-eight days stretching ahead of me, with no escape.

“I suppose I have no choice, since I already am one,” I say.

Eleanor smiles, yet this time there is no hint of warmth beneath it. “Yes. I suppose you are,” she rasps.

The meal continues through multiple courses I couldn’t name if someone held a gun to my head. Rich food, expensive wine, conversation that flows around and through me. Walker tells stories about the ranch’s history, about droughts and booms and the time a tornado took out half the original barn in 1987. James makes everyone laugh with an impression of their father during a particularly disastrous cattle auction. Nathaniel talks about his daughters, and the love in his voice when he mentions Harper and Hadley is genuine and deep.

Caroline stays mostly quiet after her earlier outburst, but occasionally I catch her scrutinizing me, still deciding if I’m worthy of her brother.

And through it all, Sebastian watches me from the other end of the table. Every time I look up, his eyes are on me. Possessive. Satisfied. Claiming me even across twenty feet of mahogany and crystal.

By the time dessert arrives, something chocolate and French that I barely taste, I’m exhausted. Deflecting questions and navigating family dynamics I don’t understand has drained me completely.

“Coffee?” Eleanor offers as staff clear dessert plates.