Promise: A Lords of Action Novel

by K. J. Jackson

  Talia’s knees nearly gave out the instant they disappeared fully into the darkness from where they had crept. Fletch’s steel grip clamped onto her upper arms, holding her upright as he shoved her from the alley.

  He ripped the dagger from her hand, yanking her down the street, his voice sinking to a low, furious tirade. “Reckless, Talia. Foolish recklessness. You don’t know how close you were to having your fool head bashed in. Beyond reckless.”

  Each word was punctuated with a jerk on her arm.

  She would have none of it. She kept up with his pace just to refuse him the satisfaction of manhandling her. “And you were not reckless, Fletch? I’m not going to trade my life for yours—no matter how you think fate wants this to play out. Death is not coming for you, Fletch. Not while I can stop it.”

  He growled, his feet speeding. He was back to dragging her. Dragging her to safety.

  Talia ran, attempting to keep up with his long strides. Staring at the back of his dark jacket, she wondered if he was truly mad at her.

  Or mad because he had just dodged death—dodged fate.

  ~~~

  Fletch rubbed the bare flesh of his left triceps, turning the muscle to the light of the fire to look at it. The bruise was deep to the bone and already starting to discolor his skin.

  He had been ready tonight. Ready for the end in that dark alley. And the end hadn’t come.

  He wasn’t sure if he could be mad at Talia for what she had done. He had used brawn to get them out of the brothel, and she had used her brain to get them out of the alley. Both tactics had their place, whether or not his ego wanted to admit to it.

  With a sigh, he forewent putting his shirt back on and instead grabbed the brandy he had set on the mantel and sipped it, staring at the door connecting his room to Talia’s.

  As if on cue, a soft knock floated from the door to him.

  “Come in.” He took a step away from the fire, stopping as Talia cracked the door and moved into his chambers.

  Freshly bathed, she glowed like the goddess Amphitrite slipping from the gently rolling waves of the sea. Her wet hair hung over her right shoulder, back to its normal red-blond color, her fingers still working through a few rogue tangles as she smiled at him.

  Had he been debating about being irate with her? Looking at her in clean innocence, he couldn’t quite conjure the reason she had vexed him.

  “Louise is settled?” Fletch asked.

  “She is asleep. She was rabid when I went into her room. She thought she had only imagined me and that she had been sold again.”

  “I feared that, sending her alone in the carriage, but I had to come back for you.”

  “I know.” Talia walked slowly across the room, stopping in front of him. “The physician and the nurse you sent in helped tremendously. Thank you, for that.”

  “Did she have any injuries?”

  Talia shook her head, twisting her hair over her shoulder. “No. At least none that are physical. Her mind is in a precarious state, though.”

  Fletch watched as three fat drops of water fell from the tip of her twisted hair onto her cream robe, wetting the soft silk. Her skin showed through the fabric, the dark pink of her nipples making obvious her lack of a chemise beneath the robe.

  Fletch took a sip of brandy, attempting to calm the instant twinge beneath his trousers. One look at a half-revealed nipple, and his mind was consumed with picking up his wife, parting her legs, and sliding her down onto him—instead of where it should be, which was easing her worry over her sister. Ass.

  He offered a grim nod to Talia. “Her state of mind is as expected. She has been through an extreme trauma. I did send a carriage up to Norfolk to retrieve your mother. She should arrive within days if the roads allow it.”

  Talia’s eyes widened. “You did not tell me you sent for my mother.”

  “I did not want to add to your worry. I sent for her the day we were married, but I did not want you to be concerned over what would happen if she arrived and we had yet to find your sister.”

  She offered one nod, a distinct frown settling on her lips.

  “You are not pleased?”

  Fletch could see her attempt to ease her frown. She failed. “I love my mother.”

  “Yet?”

  “It is just that we have a difficult relationship. Finding Louise was my concern, and I hadn’t begun to think about my mother.”

  “Why difficult?” Fletch took a sip of his brandy.

  “It wasn’t always so. Not until after we lost everything. But she stood by me when it was most needed.”

  That piqued Fletch’s curiosity and his eyes lifted from drifting down to her nipple again. Again, an ass. “When was that?”

  “There was one thing I didn’t tell you before about how Cousin Arnold removed us from Rosevin.” Her fingers twisting her hair tightened, pulling the red-blond strands. “Cousin Arnold wanted to marry me. But he is twenty years my senior. A hideous, vile man. I could not fathom it. Papa had just died, and he had already come in and taken over everything. And then he demanded I marry him—threatened us if I did not.” A shiver visibly ran through her body. “Had I married him…”

  “The three of you never would have lost everything. You could have stayed at Rosevin.”

  Talia nodded. “But I could not marry him. And mother supported me. Stood up to him. She told him she would not prostitute her daughter for her own comfort.” She heaved a heavy breath. “And the next day we were removed from Rosevin.”

  Fletch swallowed back his rising rage at Talia’s story. The current Earl of Roserton needed to be ruined in every way possible, and now that they had finally found Louise, he planned to get to that very task on the morrow.

  But not at that moment. At that moment, he had his wife half naked in front of him, and for the first time, the constant worry in her hazel eyes had finally eased.

  “Fletch, do not look murderous. All of that happened years ago, and we all eventually accepted the consequences—we had little choice but to do that very thing.” Her fingers fell from her hair. “And my mother never broke, never asked me to reconsider marrying him. He waited, watched and ensured our descent, and then sent numerous offers for my hand—offering us back everything we had lost. But she did not falter. So as complicated as she is for me, I will always respect her for that. Love her for that.”

  “I am sorry I did not ask you if I should send for her,” Fletch said. “I assumed you would want her here posthaste.”

  “I do. It just caught me off guard.” Talia smiled. “But you doing that for me…it was too kind, Fletch.”

  Her head cocked to the side as she looked up at him, the blue in her hazel eyes dancing with the light of the fire. “You are an uncommon man, Fletch. Very uncommon.”

  He smirked. “You are only realizing that now?”

  “Maybe.” She shrugged. “I realized you were uncommon from the start, but the depth of your kindness. I don’t think I understood it at first. From the very thoughtful little things—making sure I eat enough—to the fact that you have righted all of the wrongs in my life in an amazingly short amount of time. I do not know how you have managed to do so. Or why I have been so fortunate.”

  “I look at you, Talia, and I wonder the very same thing.” He turned from her, setting his glass on the mantel.

  She followed his movement, slipping between him and the fire, her right hand sliding around his bare waist just above his trousers. “Fletch, I do not want you to think I accepted anything you said to me earlier.”

  “When?”

  “Before we left for the brothel.”

  He stiffened. “Talia—”

  “No—hear me out.” She squeezed his side as she cut him off. “You gave me all of this—a home, a life, security, my sister, my mother. It was a future I never could have imagined—comprehended a month ago.”

  “Yet here you are.”

  “Exactly. Here I am.” Her left hand slipped around him as well, her fingers touching in
the middle of his back, playing with the ridge along the base of his spine. “It proves that one cannot see the future, Fletch. No one can—you do not know that death will be your fate.”

  He inhaled, his jaw tightening as he tried to take a step backward. Talia’s fingers instantly clasped behind him, holding her body to his. He shook his head. “I know, Talia. I also have proof. I have a dead brother. A dead father. Generations of dead grandfathers. I know.”

  “I refuse to accept that. Refuse to accept that you have come into my life to give me footing, and that death will rip you away. I refuse to accept that you will not give me all of you.”

  His head jerked back. “You speak of my seed?”

  “I cannot accept that you will refuse me this.” Her hands tightened around him. “Refuse me this essential part of you.”

  His chest expanded in a heavy breath as he cupped her face. “Everything—land, homes, money—not obliged to the crown will be left to you, Talia. You will always be taken care of. I swore that to you, and the estate is already in place. You do not need to bear my child, an heir, to ensure that.”

  “I don’t care about the bloody estate, Fletch.” Fire flashed into her eyes. “I care about you. I refuse to let you believe you are done for this earth within a year—within months. I refuse to let you keep this one thing from me—keep you from me.”

  Her fingers unclenched from his waist, her left hand untying the belt holding her robe tight, her right hand dropping to his trousers, grabbing him fully through the cloth, massaging.

  Fletch nearly jumped away.

  Move. Move away from her before actions became regrets.

  But for the life of him, Fletch could not move from his spot.

  Talia’s robe fell open, the full of her, naked. The firelight sent glowing shadows along the lean lines of her body.

  “What are you doing, Talia?”

  Her left hand joined her right, moving along the buttons on the flap of his trousers. “Proving to you that you are worth this. That I want you—all of you—without hesitation, without fear of a future you have no way of knowing. That I need you right now.”

  He grabbed her wrists. “I do not want a child only to curse him, Talia.”

  She looked up at him, her eyes blazing. “It is not a curse, Fletch. You are not a curse. This is you, all of you I am demanding.”

  “Are you prepared to watch me die, Talia? Are you prepared to watch our child die before you thirty-three years from now?”

  “I do not accept that will happen.”

  “It is reality, Talia.”

  His hold on her wrists did not stop her fingers from moving, from drawing his shaft full, straining to escape the last buttons that held him captive.

  “And I do not accept your death, Fletch.” She managed to flick the last two buttons free, his trousers falling as his cock stretched free. Her eyes not leaving his, she grabbed him fully in her hand, stroking the length of him. “I need all of you. Every last piece of you, because you are not cursed, and you do not know the future, and you are not going to leave me.”

  She stared up at him, the will in her eyes an undeniable force. “All of you, Fletch. All of you.”

  He wanted to believe her.

  Hell, he did believe her.

  In that moment, the vehemence, the unshakeable belief in her eyes made him believe it.

  Growling, he lifted her. Sliding her onto his cock in one motion.

  Hot, slick, he drove deep into her until her legs stretched wide, wrapping around his backside. Her hips swiveled on him, torture with every loop.

  Fletch spun the two of them, moving them to the wall next to the hearth, his lips meeting hers in hunger.

  Fletch thought he was gentle, but a slight grunt escaped Talia as her back hit the wall. He pulled free, searching her face, but she just wedged a hand up, grabbing the back of his head and forcing his mouth back to her.

  Her appetite for him was no less ravenous than his own. Her hips shifted, and Fletch took control, supporting her backside as he slid out of her. To the edge, sending him to shaking, he drove himself into her at the very moment his last defense crumbled.

  Twelve times, methodical, he remained in control, until control was lost. He slammed up into her, his fears of her pain overshadowed by the scratches down his back, the guttural hum in every breath she took. She only wanted more.

  And then she said the word.

  “Harder.”

  Fletch needed no other encouragement, and he sank into her, possessing her with every part of his body.

  “Harder.”

  A growl, and he crashed into her.

  “Harder.”

  He plunged, lifting her higher, reaching her deepest core. She screamed, her body shattering against him. The cracking sound blasted into his soul, and Fletch could take no more, his mind and body splintering as he came into her. Gripping her as the very life that could deliver him from death.

  He stood, Talia pinned against the wall, as he pulsated into her, his body shuddering against the trembles of her flesh. Her mouth opened on his shoulder, her teeth resting into his skin, clamping with each wave racking her body.

  He had never lost such restraint—or come so brutally.

  Reckless.

  It hit him cruelly, stealing the last remnants of the only true, glorious freedom he had ever felt in his life. His gut instinct that only moments before had believed in escaping the curse, reminded him that his death was inevitable.

  He couldn’t renounce that one truth he had spent thirty years believing in.

  Yet even as his seed continued to flow up into Talia, he could not force himself to draw from her. Could not force himself to deny her what she needed of him.

  The regret came hard, swift.

  Regret he had no one to blame for but himself.

  He had lived his whole life without a weakness—easy to do, when death loomed over him with every step.

  But one weakness had sneaked into his life without his even realizing it—his wife.

  And he had just done the one thing he swore he never would.

  { Chapter 13 }

  “Mother, no.” Talia stepped into her sister’s room, her look immediately going to Louise’s face.

  Near tears, her sister swayed, trying to keep her feet as three seamstresses scurried about her, sticking pins in the fine silk draped over her body.

  Talia spun to her mother. “No, Mother. Louise has not recovered—it has only been days and you think to make a pin cushion out of her.”

  “Nonsense, Natalia.” Talia’s mother gave an airy smile, her fingers waggling in the air as she stood by the armoire, her eyes not moving from the seamstresses. “Louise is as docile as a plump kitten. She did not argue with me in the slightest. She is not doing anything she does not want to.”

  Talia moved to her mother’s side, her voice low. “She didn’t argue with you because she can barely speak, Mother. Or did that escape your notice?”

  Talia stepped in front of her mother, facing the seamstresses, and clapped her hands. “That will be all for now. I can see you have enough measurements to move forth. Thank you all so much for your work today.” She looked over her shoulder, glaring at her mother. “My mother will be happy to walk you down to the drawing room, where you can discuss further whatever it is that is being concocted.”

  Waiting until they undraped Louise, Talia ushered the seamstresses out the door and into the hallway. Her mother paused, not following until Talia cleared her throat pointedly, trying to keep the edge out of her voice. “You do not need Louise for another second, Mother—you can finish what you started with the seamstresses below.”

  “Do not take that tone with me, Natalia. You are still my daughter and you will treat me with the respect I am due.” Her mother strode past her, her aristocratic chin high.

  Talia inhaled as her mother passed, biting her tongue on the word “due.” Her mother was due a lot of things.

  Before their father died, before
they lost everything, Talia knew her mother to be the best parent she could have asked for. But the ensuing years had shed light on all of their faults—faults that had always been concealed under the veil of wealth and power.

  It wasn’t until their lives were destroyed that she realized how little perseverance her mother possessed. Or how embarrassingly useless her mother was at taking care of herself.

  The perfect mother she had once known was now just another thing lost to the past.

  Talia closed the door, turning back to Louise. Her sister still stood in the middle of the room, her eyes on the floor, her shift the only thing to keep her warm. Her slight frame drooped, her right hand gripping her left elbow. Louise had withered during her time being held. The bones along her shoulders cut sharply out of her skin, the sight sending a lump into Talia’s throat.

  If only she had been faster. Found Louise sooner.

  “Don’t fight her. Please, Talia,” Louise said, her voice quivering.

  “Get back into bed. Get warm.” Talia wasn’t going to promise her sister anything as ridiculous as that. She stepped aside Louise, slipping a hand on her lower back to prod her to the bed. “Did you eat the soup earlier?”

  Her sister shook her head as she crawled into the bed.

  “Are you still nauseous?”

  Louise nodded, her head settling on the pillows.

  “I will get the physician. And I will have some fresh soup and tea brought up. You can try again.”

  Louise was asleep before Talia left the room. Closing the door, she leaned against the wood panel, her hands over her eyes as exhaustion tried to entice her to go to bed and crumple, even though it was only late afternoon.

  She needed Fletch.

  He would have ideas about how to help Louise. How to manage her mother.

  He would also make her eat. Make her sleep. All things she hadn’t done in days. He was good at those things—taking care of her.

  But he was gone.

  He had been absent for three days—absent since she had awoken in his bed to be greeted by cold sheets where his body had been.