“Logistics?” I say unbelievingly.

“Yes. The position will provide more efficient use of your mouth.”

I turn to my uncle. “You can’t allow this!” The plea echoes, and I’m positive everyone on the first floor hears my outburst.

Rowan sets a heavy hand on my shoulder. “Obedience to the Brotherhood is your duty, Novalee. Kneel before the chancellor.”

I stiffen my legs, refusing to submit even as my eyeballs burn from the impossibility of the circumstances. I want to plead again, but no amount of begging for a different outcome will make the resolution on either man’s face waver.

Because there is no freedom on this island.

No rights as queen of a foreign nation.

No choice.

The unyielding weight of my uncle’s grip sends me to my knees. My chest heaves with indignation as Liam towers in front of me, hands at his back, shoulders wide as the bulge behind his zipper taunts me with what I’ll face for the next twelve months.

Twelve men.

Headstrong and virile.

And all of them determined to own me.

Rowan clears his throat. “I apologize for my niece’s lack of protocol.”

I resist gnashing my teeth.

“She’ll learn.” Liam pets my head as if I’m a prized Pomeranian. “It’ll take some time, but she’ll adapt to our customs.”

“Yes, well, I’m afraid Novalee is a very strong-willed young woman.”

“I assure you, that is an issue I intend to address.”

I cast one last pleading look at my uncle, but the stern line of his mouth fails to give me hope.

“I’ll wait in the parlor while the two of you become acquainted,” he says, and I’m helpless as I watch my final shred of hope disappear through the door. It slams upon his exit, and I jump. The ensuing silence is too invasive. Too consuming.

Liam doesn’t move or speak at first. Neither do I. The seconds tick past as I study his dark gray trousers, purposefully keeping my focus below his zipper. His heightened breathing fractures the quiet, the inhales and exhales shallow and gruff, laden with a hint of what I think is desire.

Has anyone ever sounded so…aroused in my presence before? Stood in front of me like this—with masculine power and appeal? Six years ago, Liam did, though now I realize he held himself back in deference to my age.

“Eyes up here.” His commanding tone rumbles through my bones, drawing my gaze to his face, and there’s no denying how gorgeous he is. Strong jaw, neatly trimmed beard, and that coppery hair I remember from six years ago when he scolded the boy with the wild blond hair. This man stood up for me back then, but that won’t be the case this time.