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“I take care of my father.”

“You do now.”

My hands curl into fists, and his eyes immediately drop to them. A smile slowly spreads across his face.

“If someone were to raise concerns about whether this is still an appropriate place for him to live, people might listen.”

My heart begins pounding. “He owns this house.”

“For now.”

“You son of a bitch.”

Lucien’s smile widens. “I was wondering where that temper went.”

I step toward him. “Stay away from my father.”

“I’ve done nothing but help your father.”

“You’re threatening him.”

“No.” He lowers his voice. “I’m explaining your circumstances.”

I look toward the house. Through the open window, I can see my father moving around the kitchen while he prepares our drinks.

Lucien moves closer.

“Marry me.”

My gaze snaps back to him. “No.”

“You would live comfortably. Your father could remain here for as long as he wishes. I would continue paying whatever expenses arise, and you would never have to worry about him going hungry again.”

“And if I refuse?”

His expression doesn’t change.

“I might begin wondering whether leaving an increasingly infirm man in your care is responsible.”

I struggle to draw in a full breath. “You wouldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t I?”

My eyes go to the mountain. I don’t mean to look. The movement happens without thought, my gaze traveling beyond the fields and trees to where the mountain rises in the distance. Somewhere up there, hidden by miles of forest and stone, is the castle.

And Rhys.

Lucien adjusts the cuff of his shirt, treating the conversation with the same indifference he might give tomorrow’s weather.

“You disappeared for months, Boone. No letters. No explanation. Nothing. Your father lied about where you were, and now you’ve returned with enough money to repay debts you could barely afford before.” His eyes narrow slightly. “People will have questions.”

I stare at him.

He has thought this through.

And almost immediately, another thought follows.

Rhys.