The Art of Persuasion: Book 4 of The Swashbuckling Romance Series

by Myers, Heather C.

  "I try to understand that he's doing this for his sister, who's taken care of him and sacrificed things for him, things she can never get back," I reply. "And now, finally, he can take care of her. He's not going to say no to her, especially if he can give her what she needs."

  Henry looks like he's going to think about it. He looks like my words have sunk in. I look over at Matt and see he's looking at me with apologetic look on his face. A look that admits that perhaps he may be wrong about the choices he's made and maybe I'm more right than he gave me credit for. He's sorry, I know. That doesn't mean that he thinks I'm right but he knows I'm not entirely wrong.

  Before I can even blink and look back at Henry, Henry's free hand shoots out and slaps my face hard. I don’t want to make a sound but even I can’t help a grunt as a thousand tiny needles shoot across my face, making the blood pinch my cheek and turn my face an unnatural shade of red.

  “You bastard!” Matt hollers.

  He lunges for Henry, but Henry quickly thrusts me in front of him, positioning his body behind me. His hand rests on the back of my neck and his fingers coil around my throat. He isn’t squeezing. Not yet, anyway. I can feel the pistol at the base of my neck, just waiting to explode.

  Immediately, Matt stops, looking between my neck and Henry’s face. I can read his face pretty easily; he’s trying to decipher if it’s worth the risk to try and go after Henry. After a beat, Matt clenches his jaw and looks away. His brown eyes have turned black and his nostrils flare like a bird’s wings; I’ve never seen him look so angry before.

  “That’s what I thought, mate,” Henry says, and even though I can’t see him, I hear the smirk in his tone as clear as the beats in rap music.

  I’ll never hear rap again, I realize.

  I think I’ll survive.

  “You try and come after me, she dies,” he says, “and don’t think I won’t. You know me better than that.”

  “I know you’re a man who says a lot and doesn’t do much of anything,” Matt quips before he can stop himself.

  I start smiling up until the point where Henry starts putting pressure on my throat.

  “I’m sorry,” Matt says quickly. He doesn’t even care that he sounds desperate. He doesn’t care that his masculinity has taken a hit. Not when I’m at risk. “I’m sorry, all right? Just. Don’t hurt her.”

  “What I do to Isla is going to be completely your choice, Scott,” Henry says, and his glee has returned. His fingers loosen their grip on me but they don’t completely let me go. “Remember, you must choose between her or your sister.”

  “Henry, I” –

  “I don’t want to hear any excuses,” Henry says. “It’s quite simple: either Isla or Sarah. It’s not that difficult.”

  “What if I choose?” I ask. I’m not sure what the hell I’m doing besides acting like a complete idiot, but my mouth keeps talking and I’m not at the point if I should stop myself. In fact, I think I’m just going to keep going to see where this is going.

  “What if – what?” Henry sounds confused.

  That’s okay. I can work with confused.

  “I’ll choose,” I say. I’m in an awkward position because I don’t want to look at Matt while I’m saying this, but at the same time, he’s all I can see. I just don’t want to let him down. I don’t want to take this choice from him, but I refuse to let him be in this position where it becomes a matter of either-or between his sister and me, the woman he loves. I love Matt. I trust him. But he can’t – and shouldn’t – be put in a position where he would have to choose. It just isn’t fair. And if I can take that from him, I will.

  “No.” Matt’s voice is low and cold and leaves no room for argument. He already knows. His eyes burn into mine – they’re dark, with a punch of fire in them. I swear, if you could visualize passion, this is it. And I’m stunned by its ferocious beauty, its compelling hook.

  I force myself to look away. If I’m going to do this, I need my wits about me and Matt is making it very hard to even remember my name when he’s looking at me this way. It’s not sexual and it’s not loving. It’s desperate. It’s fear. It’s this utter despair, hopelessness, and pleading to reverse my decision. Because even though I haven’t said anything, he already knows I’m making this decision and he can’t stop me. He’s begging me with his eyes and my gut twists because all I want to do is give in and do what it is he’s asking of me.

  But I can’t. This is for him.

  I shake my head and my eyes fill with tears. I want to go to him. I want to hold on to him with everything I am because this whole moment is making me unsteady and I have no idea how I’m still standing. How did this all go wrong? How did we get here?

  I suppose it doesn’t really matter. I’m the only one who can fix this and I will. I have to. For Matt. Always for Matt.

  “I’ll go with you,” I tell Henry. My eyes are on the floor in front of me and not the one occupying my heart, my every fiber. I refuse to look at him because I know that if I do, I’ll break into a million pieces and fly away in the wind with no hope of being put back together. “If it means protecting Sarah, I’ll go with you. Just, just don’t hurt her. Or him.”

  Henry stares at me. I can feel it. I can feel him thinking about it.

  “It’s more fun if Matt decides,” he says finally. “But…” His finger is playing with the stubble on his chin, my neck momentarily free from him, and I’m literally praying to God, thanking Him that it appears Henry will take me up on my offer. “But it’ll be even more fun watching him watch me take you away, knowing he can do nothing about it. Knowing he can’t save you.”

  I swallow. I’m scared out of my goddamn mind but I can’t let Matt see. I can’t let him realize just how scared I am because if he does, he won’t let me leave the room, even if it means risking Sarah’s safety. Even if it means risking his life for me. He would do it in a heartbeat. And clearly, I feel the same way about him.

  “Let’s go then,” he says, clutching my arm and yanking me toward him, to the door.

  “Absolutely not,” Matt says, stepping forward. He doesn’t reach for me – he won’t risk it – but he puts himself in Henry’s way, and for the time being, he’s preventing us from leaving. “No. No, no, no, no, no.”

  "Matt."

  It's my voice that's coming out, not Henry's. I’m looking at him with tears in my eyes and I want more than anything to blink them away because I don’t want him to see me this way, I want to be strong for him, the way he deserves because I know he would be strong for me if our positions were reversed. But I can’t. They’re crowding my eyelids, making him look blurry but beautiful, and I have to rub my lips together to buy myself some time and figure out what I’m going to say.

  The thing is, I’m terrible with words. Verbal words. I am – was – a journalist. I know how to write. I know how to string words together effectively to argue, to prove a point, to prove something. But when it comes to thinking about just what I’m going to say to the man I love in this situation, I have no clue. I want it to be perfect, but it won’t be. That just isn’t possible. So I swallow, moistening my dry throat, and tell him the first thing that comes to mind.

  “I love you,” I say. “Let me do this for you.”

  I almost break when I see Matt’s tears build up in his eyes. They don’t fall – I don’t know if I’ll ever see Matt cry just because he’s not a terribly emotional guy – but his brown eyes are glassy and they aren’t as dark as they have been while he spoke with Henry.

  “No,” he tells me, and his voice cracks – and in that moment, my heart does break. He shakes his head to emphasize the point, his dark hair flowing with each movement of his head.

  I give him a watery smile. “It’s already done, Matt,” I tell him. “Maybe I came here to do this for you, to save you, because you deserve a life filled with love and adventure and” –

  Henry thwacks me across my face, interrupting my sappy and probably rambly speech. My head snaps back and a million
little needles prick my skin where Henry has slapped me again, worse this time. Matt lunges for him but he replaces the pistol against my throat as a way to stop him mid-lunge. I swallow again but for entirely different purposes. Not going to lie, I’m scared shitless. I can feel the barrel on my flesh.

  “I’ll be okay,” I tell Matt. “It’ll be okay.”

  Henry barks out a laugh in my ear. “Don’t lie to him, princess,” he says as he backs us back to the door. He doesn’t take his eyes off of Matt once as he does so, which is smart. “You’ll be far from all right.”

  When we slip out of the doorway, he slams it shut and locks Matt in before dragging me along to wherever he plans to take me.

  Chapter 21

  The minute Henry left with Isla, Matt ran to the door and gripped the knob. He had heard the clink of the lock but he thought he might be able to twist it hard enough to break it, but to no avail. He growled, shaking the knob in frustration. Vibrations rippled through the door but it still would not budge. The damn thing was stubborn and there seemed to be nothing Matt could do to free himself. An idea popped into his mind and before he knew it, he flew to the grand window that overlooked the town square. It was dark out, and besides a few beggars, it was that rare point in the morning where it was too early for even the drinks and the whores to line up and down the street. He opened the window, prepared to climb down the three stories if possible, but there was no way for him to safely descend.

  He bit his bottom lip so hard it bled. He needed to go. He needed to get out of here. He was going to go mad with frustration, anger, and fury if he couldn't think of anything.

  Isla - the foolish, foolish girl! He wanted to strangle her for what she did. How could she have just let Henry take her that way, without putting up a fight? How could she simply go of her own free will? He would have thought of something so Sarah would be fine and so would she. He was quick on his feet; he had come up with plans such as this before this. It was actually a specialty of his.

  But, for some reason, she hadn't trusted him enough to simply allow him the opportunity to do so. She made the choice to leave with Henry before Matt could think of anything. She had made that choice without discussing it with him first - not that they necessarily had the opportunity for discussion, but still. He would have liked to at least had a chance to vocalize his opinion. Even though, even though...

  Isla had no choice but to go with Henry. How could she think she would be chosen over Sarah? Matt always chose Sarah over everyone. She was his only family; he knew all she sacrificed for him. Sarah didn't know he knew but he did. He was furious when he found out but he knew there was nothing he could do. The past was the past - they couldn't change it. Even if he wanted to.

  He grit his teeth together to keep from screaming. This was not how things were supposed to go. The worst part was, he had no idea what to do now.

  He needed to find Sarah. He needed to get to Henry. He needed… He needed to be let out from this blasted room.

  Without carefully thinking it through, Matt charged to the door, shoulder first. He collided into the wood, causing it to groan upon impact, but it still would not budge. Matt ignored the pain that shot through his shoulder like a bullet fired from a gun. Instead, he tilted his head back and screamed at the ceiling.

  No. That wasn't the worst part. The worst part was knowing that Isla was right and he hadn't listened to her. She didn't exactly make it easy, however. The tone of her voice was rather aggressive and judgmental and he had long ago learned to tune people out who spoke to him in such a way, regardless if they were family or strangers. He didn't appreciate her insinuations or the fact that it didn't seem as though she believed him when he said he hadn't kissed Corsa. All he wanted was for her to trust him. They were together now and they said they loved each other. He didn't like that they had gotten into a fight so soon after the confession.

  Although, if your positions had been reversed, mate... The voice in his head trailed off, leaving him to figure out what it was trying to point out.

  Matt pressed his lips together. He could maybe understand why she reacted the way she had. To be honest, if he had caught Isla on some man's lap in the middle of a kiss, he probably would have reacted much worse. And the thing was, she hadn't even confronted him about it. He was the one who brought Corsa up in the first place. She was looking for clarification. He said he was confronting her but didn't fully explain how he was doing that with her on his lap and their mouths connected...

  He ran his fingers through his hair, tugging at the locks, hoping the pain would bring him some answers. He needed to think. He couldn't dwell on his regrets. He couldn't think about all he had done wrong in order to inadvertently cause this mess. He needed to calm down and to think about how he was going to get out of this mess.

  First, he needed to get out of this room. The problem was, the room was locked. And no matter how hard he banged into the door, it wouldn’t budge.

  Matt scanned the room, hoping for some kind of tool that would remedy his problem. He saw a vanity and walked over to it. When he reached the desk, he began going through the drawers, hoping to find some discarded pins. He managed to find three, and immediately pocketed them all save for one. As he headed back to the door, he bent the wire so it made a straight line rather than a smooth curve. He knelt to the ground and stuck the pin into the lock and very carefully tried to maneuver the pin so it would ease out the key on the other side, undoing the lock.

  Matt furrowed his brow in concentration. He gnawed on his tongue gently, trying to keep himself focused. He had never been good at this; Malchite was the real lock pick. But the man had taught him the skill and Matt had thought he had been a capable student. For the most part.

  It wasn't long before Matt heard the telling click of the lock and he knew he succeeded in his task. Still on his knees, he reached up and opened the door a sliver, mindful of the squeak that would have revealed his escape should Henry be close by. He pulled himself into a standing position and was about to dash out of the room when he stopped. He had no weapon; Henry took his pistol and his cutlass was in his room. He did have time to retrieve it but any time dedicated to something unrelated to Isla just put her in more jeopardy. But he couldn't rush in there without a plan because that would just put both of them into a situation they probably wouldn't be able to get out of.

  Matt took in a breath. He needed a weapon. And if he knew exactly where his cutlass was, he would get it as fast as he could. It wouldn't do anything against his pistol but at least he would be prepared.

  As Matt made his way to his room on the second story, he took a moment to allow his body to fill with guilt. Henry forced him to pick between Sarah and Isla and he picked Isla. He didn't know if he was making the correct choice - was there a right choice and a wrong choice, really? - but it was the one he made and there was no going back. He hoped that perhaps he would be able to save him both. If he had the opportunity to kill Henry, he wouldn't hesitate. He would run his cutlass straight through Henry's gut and watch as Henry bled out slowly and painfully, staining the wooden floor with his pool of blood.

  Sarah, he knew, could take care of herself. He trusted that she'd be able to weasel out of anything Henry put her through. Maybe he was putting too much faith in her, maybe he was trying to make himself feel better about his choice, but Matt knew Sarah could get out of anything. Hell, she might kill Henry herself once she was able to break free from all of this.

  When he reached his room, he went to his wardrobe and grabbed the cutlass out of his sheath and hung it on his belt. It fit comfortably on his right hipbone. He pressed his lips together and sent out a little prayer, something he had never done before, that Isla and Sarah were both all right and that somehow, they would all survive this.

  Once that was finished, he spun around on the heel of his boot, only to run into Sarah.

  "Oh my god, Sarah!" he exclaimed. "You're all right. Thank God."

  Sarah furrowed her brow, puzzled. "Why wo
uldn't I be all right?" She took a step back from her brother and her eyes narrowed on his weapon. "You look like you're preparing for battle, Matty. What's happened?"

  Matt tilted his head to the side, narrowing his eyes. “You mean,” he said, “you don’t know?”

  “Matty, I’m going to throttle you!” She placed her hands on his shoulders and shook just to reveal her frustration. “What are you talking about?”

  “Henry, he” –

  “You know where Henry is?” Sarah took a step back, running her fingers through her red hair. Matt didn’t want to admit it, but his older sister appeared tired. Vulnerable. “I’ve been looking all over for him. He disappeared after Isla made her rather baffling appearance.” She turned back to regard Matt with a questionable stare. “What was that about, anyway? She seemed a bit off, did she not?”