He looked at Rainbow over the maid’s back and repeated, quieter this time, “Go ahead. Scream. Call the guards. Tell your mother her betrothed is buried balls-deep in a kitchen girl two weeks before the wedding.”
Rainbow’s throat worked. The words she had planned, sharp, righteous, the ones that would bring the whole wing running, stuck. Instead she heard herself say, low and raw, “You’re disgusting.”
Lothian’s mouth twitched. He pulled almost all the way out, then slammed back in so hard the bedframe groaned. The maid made a muffled, broken sound.
“Your father used to say the same thing,” he said. “Right before he asked me to finish what he started with half the women in this castle.”
The words landed like a slap. Rainbow’s fingers tightened on the doorframe. “You’re lying.”
“Am I?”
