"They're treating her like a prize mare," Virve said, narrowing her eyes as her fur raised at the notion of someone offering her to whichever man was chosen to sit on the Lothian Throne. "Do those men see her as anything more than a field to plow and plant their seeds in?"
"No, they don't," Ashlynn said bitterly. "But Owain is very good at pretending otherwise. 'Prize mare' is exactly the way he thinks of women. He'll treat them gently so he doesn't spook them, but…"
"Owain is already 'breaking' your sister the way you'd break a horse," Isabell said, wincing slightly when her expression of disgust tugged at flesh that was still tender from the brief kiss of the hearth's heat. "He hasn't struck her, but Jocelynn says he's come close. Ever since he returned from Blackwell County, and even a bit before he left, she's been doing everything she can to keep him pacified and content with her."
