“Is that why you hate me?” I asked, my voice trembling against my wishes.
When he didn’t answer, I almost got up. In a final act of some semblance of respect, I said, “May I be excused?” Though the words felt like lava in my throat.
My father pushed away from the table and stood, towering over us, making the point of who was in charge. “As I mentioned before, it’s best you not stay here after tonight.”
“Jacob,” my mother admonished, curling her hand around his forearm, trying to stop his edict.
“Catelyn,” my father said. His voice was softer yet still firm with her. “She can stay with Marigold.”
My mother sighed and nodded her head. Marigold, or rather Mary as the siblings called her, was my younger sister only by a year. “She has space. It’s just her, Thomas, and the baby,” she said to me.
But she hadn’t forgotten my earlier request and glanced at Father who nodded. But I waited for the words.
“Yes, you may be excused,” she said, sounding as sad and resigned to be stuck in the middle between father and daughter as she had when I’d lived here.
There weren’t any choices for privacy. Despite the cold, I set out into the cover of darkness that completely obliterated any light.
I wrapped my arms around myself to ward off the chill as snow still lightly fell. When the door opened, I wasn’t surprised to see my mother wrapped in an afghan.
She came over and cupped my cheeks.
“Let me look at you. Still as pretty as the day you were born.”
The love in her eyes broke me. “Mom,” I said, choking out a sob.
She wrapped me in a loving embrace. One that I hadn’t known I needed until I was there. Fiercely, I hugged her back and let the tears I’d been holding in fall.
She rubbed circles on my back, and for the first time all day, I felt completely safe.
“He’s not mad at you,” she began.
“Of course, he is. I’m his one failure.”
She pulled back and met my eyes. “You are not. He’s scared for you. You’re out there in the world where he can’t keep you safe.”
That’s when it hit me. “How did Dad know Scott comes from money?”
I hadn’t mentioned that in my letter to them, knowing Father’s feelings.
Her eyebrow lifted. “Your father may not be much for technology, but he knows how to search. He found an article about Scott and his family.”
He could have only found something in the society section. I couldn’t imagine my father reading about social events where dressing the part would be more important than the reason for the event.
I imagined Scott’s parents had orchestrated getting themselves in such an article likely in The New York Times.
Unable to imagine my father doing a google search on me, I said as much.
“He might not say it, but he’s very proud of you. He’s just an old-fashioned man who wants to know the man you’re with is worthy of you.”
I wanted to believe her, but she saw the best in him as he always pointed out the worst in me.
“Now, come inside and tell me about this man.”
I stopped and glared at her.
She smiled. “Come on now. I see that look. Someone has broken your heart and it’s most certainly not Scott.”
She made it very hard to keep secrets from her. “Father?” I asked before following her inside.
“You know he has an early start. He’ll be in bed. We’ll have the fire to ourselves to gossip.”
She winked and I gave her a wry smile. We sat by the fire, and though I’d wanted desperately to forget about the man who’d crawled into the depths of my emotions, I whispered the story, an edited version.
“He lied to me,” I said, in conclusion. “His name wasn’t Kalen Brinner, but Jeremy King.”
“Wasn’t it, though,” she said. “Kalen Brinner is also a part of his name, correct?”
I shrugged. “He claimed as much, but that isn’t the point.”
“Isn’t it? We all have secrets. My parents had them when they moved here for a better life, or so they said. Yet the community embraced us and made us feel welcome.”
“But you didn’t want to be here.”
She shook her head with a secretive smile. “I hated every second.”
“Until Father?”
She sighed. “Until your father,” she agreed, with a girlish smile on her face. “His courting was so subtle; I had no idea it was happening. He was so sweet, showing me the beautiful life we could have together.”
It seemed foreign to hear that about the man who seemed so cold and remote.
“He’s a good man,” she added. “Sometimes love can be found in the oddest of places.”
I thought about the gorgeous but grumpy Scottish man who had stormed into my life.
“He doesn’t love me.”
“But you him?” she asked.
I shrugged, not ready to admit anything yet. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over.”
She didn’t press, just patted the hands I’d rested in my lap. “Let me get you some blankets.”
She stood after pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “Maybe he isn’t the one. Maybe Turner is.”
Before I could respond, she’d disappeared behind her bedroom door.
I closed my eyes and let myself think of the possibilities. Could I live here in this community for the rest of my life? Could I do that as Turner’s wife?
Eight
Kalen
The phone felt it might crack under the pressure of my grip. It took several calming moments before I was able to place it on my desk without slamming it. It wasn’t conceivable to me that every muscle in my body could be so tense at the same time. My chest felt constricted, like it was impossible to get enough air.
Bailey had vanished, at least on paper. She’d rented a car and Griffin was working to track its GPS. But hacking the car rental company’s records wasn’t proving easy, and not because they had great security. Their records were a mess even online. It wasn’t a simple search for Bailey’s name. He had to search by car, and without knowing what car she rented, he had to go one by one.
The thought of spanking that sexy little ass of hers for making me worry about her had me gripping my cock.
Fuck. I squeezed a little harder in hopes pain would kill the erection that sprang to life at the thought of her.
All the blood in my body rushed to my dick, imagining her spread eagle on my desk. That’s how our last encounter should have gone, not with her saying goodbye as if it were for the last time.
It was that frustration that pushed past any fantasies I had. I pinched above my brow, hoping to stave off a headache. Why couldn’t I let this woman go?
It had only been a couple of days since I had her.
“Mr. King.”
I looked up to see the administrative temp entering my office. My steadfast assistant called out sick for the first time since she’d been in my employ. She also made sure I wouldn’t be without help and had arranged a short-term replacement.
“I’m sorry to bother you, but you didn’t answer your line. I was concerned something might be wrong.”
Red hair capped a cute face. No, that wasn’t true. Her hair was nothing like Bailey’s. It was more of a strawberry blonde that topped a petite package. I didn’t have to glance up far to notice her blouse was unbuttoned a little too far.
“I’m fine,” I managed to say and not sound on the edge like I was.
She continued forward like there was more she wanted to say. “Okay,” she uttered. Her skirt rose higher than mid-thigh as she moved and was almost inappropriate for the office. There was an offer in her stroll toward me, but I didn’t have to take the bait. I found the temp’s eyes again, only to see the come fuck me in them.
“I just wanted to say what an honor it is to work for you today.” There was a sway in her hips she wanted me to notice. I knew better. I was aware of women who wanted me. Most of them
tended to get a little clingy when the deed was done. My plan had always been never to get involved with anyone, not here in the States. Keep your eye on the prize, I’d told myself. I wanted to go back to Scotland. My life was there.
“You have a meeting at two,” she said, prowling toward me.
I shifted my gaze from her to my computer screen to remind myself what that appointment was all about.
The temp, however, wasn’t giving up. “I know you haven’t had lunch.”
I glanced up again to see that she was a meter or two from my desk. I kept my gaze on her face to keep things professional.
“I could bring something in and have it spread before you,” she said in a sultry way that was dialed up to the max.
She ended that statement with a wink, making an innuendo too glaring to overlook. She’d either realized her mistake of what sounded like an offer or she was shy about making it. Either way, she’d turned pink, highlighting the freckles that swept over her nose.
There was a decision to be made. She didn’t work for me directly and never would. I would ensure that. I had no plans of ever replacing my current assistant.
But Bailey was gone. She’d made it painfully clear where her head was. And when had I ever chased a woman?
Could my father actually be right for once? The best thing for my plans and the future of this company would be to let her go.
There was a definite way to try to forget her.
I heard myself say, “What exactly are you offering?”
Nine
Lass, he called out to me from the hazy backdrop of my bedroom. I tried to remember Lizzy’s house wasn’t soundproofed as Kalen kissed his way up the curve of my arm. I pressed my lips closed to hold in a moan as I squirmed a bit under his ministrations. Wanting so much more, I wiggled my bottom against his huge erection, hoping to tease him into action as I lay on my side.
No need to rush, lass. I promise to get you there more than once, he said, coming ever closer to my mouth, teasing me with the promise of his kiss, which I craved far more than I ever thought possible.
He cupped my breast, squeezing just shy of pain while rubbing a thumb back and forth over the taut nipple. The sensations were like a lit match dropping into gasoline. Every inch of my skin sparked to life.
Never will I let you go, he commanded. His lips changed directions just as he maneuvered me from my side to my back.
In the stillness of the night, he hovered over me with his large body. His green eyes peered into my soul like he’d eat me alive.
With expert hands, he pushed my thighs apart and swiped his tongue down my slit. My back bowed as if wanting to deliver a Cupid’s arrow straight from my heart and into his.
This man… he worked my body into such a frenzy, feasting on me as if I tasted of milk and honey.
I want more, I nearly called out. I was so close, I could taste it.
“Bailey.”
The voice destroyed my illusions like a wrecking ball into the side of a building.
I blinked away the dreams of Kalen that had kept my brain active through the night. His touch may have been a memory, but it was one reluctant to be forgotten.
What was more disturbing was finding my hand on my center as my father walked out of his bedroom into the room. Never had I been more grateful for the blankets that still covered me.
On a yawn, quickly I discreetly shifted my hand away from bringing the reality of my fantasies to life before my father made it over to lord over me.
The sky had barely begun to lighten through the windows when Father’s command rang out.
“Have a care and make yourself useful.”
Father wouldn’t accept a nod, so I said, “Yes, Father,” without a second of hesitation.
His glare of disdain could have meant he’d heard any noises I’d made while in the throes of sleep or Mother’s belief that he loved me was wrong. I thought the latter. He didn’t care about me at all. I ignored both options to allay any embarrassment and so I wouldn’t begin to hate the man.
After he left out the door, I got to my feet and got ready for the day.
I lovingly folded the hand knit afghans my mother made that had kept me warm and placed them back over the side of the sofas. A plate of fruit and cheese rested on the table. Things weren’t left out by mistake. You would be inviting critters of all kinds to break bread with you if they got wind of it. Thus, I knew my mother left the food for me.
The growl in my tummy was persistent, but not as much as the pressure in my bladder. I walked out the back door and several yards to the wooden structure. Opening the door, I appreciated my family’s use of natural bacteria and other things sprinkled down the hole that rested beneath the seat. It broke down the waste left behind, keeping the smell to a dull yuck. It was almost odd to find a roll of toilet paper in such a place that felt so foreign after a few years gone by. Some conveniences were still used even though invented in modern times.
The chill was what had me hurrying to complete my task.
When walking back, I caught sight of the shower stall that was attached to the back of the house where a well pump stood. But it was too cold for such a thing. Water warmed by fire would be used for bathing until the weather once again permitted outdoor showers.
Our house did boast one extra tiny room in the house. It held a tub. I believe it was a gift from my father to my mother when he built the place. However, with no indoor plumbing, it was a pain to use. Buckets of hot water had to be brought in to fill it.
Yet, I eased back into the life I’d been born in as easy as riding a bike after you learned. Some things you never forgot. So, once I was ready for the day, I followed the women making their way to the community epicenter, ready to get an assigned task for the day. I ignored the stares and whispers, as there would be many.
By mid-afternoon, Turner found me in the designated area inside the center using a laundry bucket to rub my sisters’ dresses against a washboard. The day was warmer with the sunlight streaming through the windows and the hearth blazing with fire.
My aching arms had forgotten such manual use. I wanted to sink into the washbasin and douse myself with the water. I was working on the last dress and craved a bath before my family got home from their chores of the day.
Holding my hand up to block the sunlight streaming through the window, I looked up at Turner. His eyes were a burnished gold in the morning light. Their blaze was squarely on me.
“I thought you might be hungry,” he said in a matter-of-fact voice.
His lips were quirked, his hair sexily tousled on his head. I glanced away, not wanting to fall under his spell like I’d done as a girl.
My gaze landed on the picnic basket he carried. Getting to my feet, I wrung out the last of the dresses and strolled over to the indoor clothesline. Pinning the garment, I let my shoulders sag as my arms felt as if they couldn’t carry one more thing.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Thank you,” he said simply.
It wasn’t that easy. I’d seen him earlier with Margaret.
“Let’s take a walk,” he said softly.
I could feel eyes on us, so I hustled out the side door of the center and into the chill of the mid-winter morning.
Golden fields of dormant crops were dusted lightly with remnants of yesterday’s snowfall. Beyond it was my family home, which was on the outskirts of town closer to the entrance. Our family’s primary means of contribution to the community was farming. It was our primary business and brought much-needed revenue to the community to pay government taxes and buy supplies and goods we couldn’t harvest, grow, or obtain lawfully from our own lands. However, my parents weren’t there.
They were most likely in the building where we kept harvested goods left over from the market times and prepared to keep for the winter.
Dead on my feet, I let Turner drag me across the land toward the creek. On the spot we’d spent the day before, we sat on a spread quilt, and he pulled out
meat and bread after starting a fire.
“Do you think that was wise?” I finally asked as his fingers offered me a nibble of meat.
“What?” he said with a smirk that meant he knew exactly what I was talking about.
“For everyone to see us together?”
Before I said more, I accepted the tender meat that burst with flavor inside my mouth.
“I’m not married, and neither are you.”
He spoke so easily as if we didn’t live in a compound with rules that dated back to the eighteenth century.
I thought about my father’s warnings far too late. “Aren’t you courting Margaret?”
“I’m not in love with Margaret.”
He hadn’t exactly answered, and I wasn’t completely sure how I felt about it.
“Is she in love with you?”
He shrugged. “I’ve never lied to her. I would have married her a few years ago if I wanted that and she knows it.”
His hand came up with another offering, and with the absence of a response I took it. The bread was slightly sweet but rich and buttery too. My tongue accidently snaked across his fingers as he glided them out of my mouth. His eyes met mine and I could feel his burning gaze. As much as I hated it, Kalen continued to hover in the back of my mind.
To break the tension, I asked, “Who cooked this?”
With a wolfish grin, Turner said, “I did.”
That surprised me. “Since when did you become such a great cook?” The Turner I knew was treated like a king as were all the males in his family. Thus, cooking had never been his chore.
“Since becoming a bachelor.”
Because I was one of the reasons he still remained unmarried, it made the moment awkward.
“It’s okay, Bails.”
I didn’t want to rehash one of my not-so finer moments. Yet, I found myself repeating what I told him the day before, “I was afraid you’d ask me to stay.”
With patient eyes, he watched me for a second. “Would you do it again?”
It was a good question. Had spending over three years of my life in a wasted relationship with Scott been worth it? I hadn’t really loved him. I stayed with him out of some sense of duty and honor to my family for my perceived sins. Then again, had I not been with Scott, I may have never met Kalen that fateful night. Would I go back and stay with Turner?
Queen of Men: King Maker series Page 4