“I don’t see your mark on her,” he says, making a point of looking Mercedes over and fuck me. Because she’s pressed against him, her back to his chest, her bare ass against his thigh. At least he’s still wearing his jeans.

“As if that would stop you,” I blurt out, reaching for Mercedes, who slaps my arm away.

“Don’t touch me!” she says, her voice hoarse.

Theron is still grinning, enjoying this little show. And behind us, I feel my mother’s presence like a dark shadow.

“For fuck’s sake.” I grab a towel, reach into the shower stall and physically take Mercedes out, wrapping the towel around her shoulders and looking her over. “Did you do this to her?” I ask Theron, shifting my gaze over her head to him. Her face is bruised, cut in places. Her body too.

“No, asshole. I don’t get off beating women.”

I grit my jaw at his insinuation.

“That’s your area,” he adds more quietly as if I may not have gotten it the first time around. He reaches for a towel, and I notice the tattoo on his chest that wasn’t there the last time I saw him. A hand holding a sword, the scales of justice balanced on either side. Justice. Consequence. The Montgomery coat of arms. Although it’s not exactly right.

“I’ll deal with you later,” I tell him and turn to Mercedes, who is staring up at me with her bruised face. It twists something inside me to see her hurt. I draw a deep breath in, wrap the towel tight around her, and lift her in my arms.

“Put me down, you asshole!”

I tighten my grip in warning while my brother grins. He drops the towel after scrubbing his hair with it and unbuttons his soaked jeans.

“You don’t have to go with him, sweetheart,” he tells Mercedes. “Give me the word, and I’ll take care of it.”

He’ll take care of it. Fucking unbelievable. I don’t see him charging me to do battle and save the damsel in distress.

“You just stay right here,” I tell him, and against Mercedes’s protests, I carry her through the cottage, making sure my mother sees my displeasure at her latest betrayal.

Paolo is waiting outside with Kentucky Lightning saddled and ready. I was on my way to the stable this morning when he alerted me to the naked Mercedes who ran past him. He takes care to avert his gaze as I hoist Mercedes onto the saddle and then climb up behind her. He’s discreet and respectful. My brother? He’s a whole other story.

I slip my jacket from my shoulders and wrap it around Mercedes’s. She tries to shrug it off, but I wrap one arm around her middle and tug her to me, clicking my tongue for the horse to move.