by Lark Watson
I took the drink and headed across the hall, opening the door without a knock and catching Mr. Thorneton’s heavy silhouette leaning over a laptop, dictating to it.
“…and get Finn the hell out of the city while things cool down. I don’t want to hear any more of his damn nonsense about needing to stay just in case.”
I took the moment, staring at him, catching the side of his face with the scar turned to me. It was as bad, perhaps worse than I’d been picturing, but it was still him. The dark eyes, the heavy brow, the sharp, broad nose and full mouth.
I stood, trying to catch my breath, unable to hear him over the beating of my own heart pounding in my ears.
Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door closed behind me with a soft snick and watched as his head came up, blindlessly swinging my way.
“Micha?” he asked, as he stilled, a hand coming to rest on his lap.
I opened my mouth, hoping to answer, to come forward with the truth of who I was. The words wouldn’t slip past my lips. Even with Micha’s reassurance, I feared that this was my last moment and I couldn’t help but stare, taking him in.
I slipped one step closer and his hand came back up, a gun held unerringly pointed in my direction.
“Stop right there.”
“Yes, sir.” I stopped, freezing in place.
His gaze sharpened, focused in the direction I stood.
“Who’s there.”
“You know who.”
He lowered the gun, not setting it aside, but resting it on the desk pointing away from me.
“Tell me your name.”
“You know me yourself. You told me that I was your own as you were mine.”
His fist slammed down on the desk. “Do not bedevil me.”
“I would not,” I replied, coming to the front of his desk.
“Is it then, my Jane?” His voice quivered on my name, a bit of a touch I was shocked to hear.
“Hadn’t you promised to know me anywhere sir?”
I watched as he released the gun and unfisted his hand, laying both flat against the desktop.
“Jane?”
“Sir…Mr. Thorneton—” I held back the sob fighting its way up my throat.
He stood, as if he would march around the desk to me, but held himself back, either from fear of his own blindness or my reaction.
“Jane, come to me.” He held his hand out and it was all the invitation I needed.
I rushed around the desk to where he held his arm out, crashing into him as he pulled me into the hard strength of his body.
“Jane, my Jane, where have you been?” His voice cracked and I feared my own face might not be the only one painted with tears.
“I’ve been safe. I had to go away—”
“I know. I know.” He rocked me, before stepping back to lead me to his chair and pull me down on his lap. “I should have told you everything. I got quite the earful from Micha and Morgan. Even Finn is quite taken with you. The household…well, our meals were cold in this wing for months after you left when Mrs. Fairfax guessed why you left.”
“I’m sorry—”
“You have nothing to be sorry for.” He dropped a kiss on my forehead and continued, “But tell me where you’ve been that I couldn’t find you.”
I told him about the night I left, leaving out Micha’s help because I didn’t want him to see what was a plan to help as a betrayal. His body was tense as I spoke of my walk and meeting the new family. When I said I’d gone with them, he’d pushed to his feet, setting me aside to pace in an agitated way, his hand running along his desk to keep track of his progress.
He settled again as I kept speaking, telling him about my new friends and the house and my job. I told him about each of the girls and the joy they brought me. I spoke of Saint and how he ran the household like a frustrated father.
He listened to it all, his hand running along the lines of my spine in a comforting caress.
“So, this Saint…he’s an older man?”
“Oh, no. He’s not many years older than me.”
“Really? So he’s younger than I am.”
“Yes, but several years I’d think.”
“Huh.” He seemed to pause at that, taking the picture he’d formed and adjusting it.
I didn’t point out that his assumption made no sense at all since I’d explained the background of the three.
I went on telling him about the changes Laura had made to the house and how I had my own room. He hrmphed and I couldn’t help but smile because, yes. I had my own room here as well and loved it very much.
I was just mentioning one of Saints family dinners when he interrupted again.
“A miserly man then?”
“Why, no! Saint is truly one of the most generous people I’ve ever met. And protective of all of us. He struggles with the balance sometimes, but we all know he means the best for all the girls.”
“Well, I assume a man as homely as he is must adore the idea of the three of you being his little collection of women.”
“Homely?” I asked, seeing where all these questions were going. I am almost not ashamed to admit that my heart leapt at the idea of his jealousy, for had not he done this to me at one time, taunting me with his Miss Ingram?
“Didn’t you say the poor man was bedeviled with a sad appearance?”
“Not at all. Actually, Saint is probably the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.”
I felt Mr. Thorneton’s hand still on my back. “Really? More handsome than Morgan?”
“More handsome than Micha even.”
“Well, they say that handsome hides many sins.”
“Sometimes I suppose that’s true. I can think of some women I’ve met who match that description. But not our Saint.”
“The name fits the man then?”
“I wouldn’t go that far.” I thought of how angry he was at me when I explained that I needed to come here, needed to see for myself that Mr. Thorneton and the household were intact. He had not taken what he had seen—and I had meant—as a rejection well, even though it was unstated.
I knew that we would make a poor match in the long run and could not tie myself to him even for the greater good.
“Is there something you need to tell me? Something about Saint?”
I wondered where his mind had gone. I couldn’t even begin to guess, although I’m sure it was both right and incorrect at the same time.
“What would you know, sir?”
“Jane, do not toy with me.” His hand dropped away and he fell back in his chair creating a distance between us that had not been there since I walked into the room. “Are you…are you to be married to this man?”
“To Saint? No sir.”
“But, I hear something in your voice. You said he wasn’t stupid or vain or ugly or cruel and so I can only imagine that he saw your worth.”
“He saw a worth.”
“And so, he’s asked you to marry him.”
It wasn’t said as a question and so I hesitated to answer.
“He has.” My Mr. Thorneton could read me better than anyone else, even with his sight gone. “And I suppose because you are a smart and good person you have agreed. Perhaps you are already—but no. You would not be here upon my lap if you had.”
I paused, trying to figure out how to move forward. It was obvious he still had some affection for me, but I feared it didn’t match my own desperation for him. I feared to overstep.
“He has asked.” I watched Mr. Thorneton’s gaze close, hiding any emotion that would have shown through. “But I said no.”
I felt a hard shudder wrack through his body—a rush of pain and then relief.
“You said no? How could you? You’ve explained the perfect man.”
“Because, it is as I was told almost a year ago. We are as we should be. Together.” I rested my head against his chest, finally allowing myself the freedom to relax into him.
I slid my hand across his scarred check, so thankful for the marks that I want
ed to weep with relief. I felt him stiffen under my touch, obviously sensitive to the attention to his old wound. How could I make him understand that it was what showed him as even more alive, even stronger than I’d thought when I left him.
Just when I thought he’d jerk away, he relaxed, letting his cheek rest against my palm in a show of such trust that it brought tears to my eyes.
“Jane, tell me now if you mean to leave. Tell me you won’t be mine. I can’t take it again if I think you’re here and then you’re gone the next morning.”
“I’m here.” I pressed a soft kiss to that hard mouth, smiling at the grim line it made. “I’m not going anywhere.”
His arms banded around me, a hard much-desired shackle grasping me to him. I knew that it was still fear, fear that I’d instilled in him in my unsteadiness. But, Micha had been right as well.
It had been the best thing for both of us.
“There’s things—” He looked away, a habit I’d already noticed as if his vision still tied him to those he was with. “There are things I have to tell you first, before you make any promises.”
“I’m sure it’s—”
“Don’t be sure. Let me tell you as you’ve told me.”
I stilled, understanding that whatever it was he wished to tell me he feared would change things between us. I knew part of his story obviously, but Micha had left out. Things I knew he had to tell me himself.
He began with his father, a man whose name even I had heard on the news discussed as one of America’s most wanted criminals. I was often called a mastermind, although Mr. Thorneton thought of him more as a dictator.
He’d wanted out from under him and his abuse and expectations and that’s when he found his way to the man Micha had told me about.
I had thought it sounded as if he were trading one dictator for another, but it seemed the man knew he’d lose Mr. Thorneton when he grew up and hoped for the best from their relationship anyway.
It came in the form of Leeanna’s rescue.
He told me more about her and I could hear the truth of Micha’s earlier words in his description of his faux wife and her breakdown that did him in.
It was then he began his new life—not just one as husband and protector. One of liberator.
He, along with Micha began getting others out. And now with several of those men, they went in to get people out of places and circumstances they’d not been able to avoid and were in dire consequences.
They didn’t just get out innocents. They also brought out some of the toughest men who were in lives they’d been raised to—just like Mr. Thorneton had been.
They’d slowly built a message system that allowed them to know who needed help. It grew and their support came not only from those they’d rescued but from Mr. Thorneton’s own business dealings.
“They are mostly honest means,” he grinned, a bit boyishly for him. “The not as honest ones keep us in the game, keep people from pinning us down, and give us information we need to get people out. Plus, there’s something sweet about using money gained inside the system to break it.”
We talked, cuddled in his chair as the evening faded into night and beyond. I woke up there, before the sun had broken through the horizon, behind hefted into his arms as he stood.
“Mr. Thorneton!”
“That’s enough of that. Thorne. Like you did before. No more of this mister.” He turned unerringly toward the doorway off to the side where his room lay half-hidden and strode toward it, sure of himself in a way that could only be attractive.
“Don’t bump my head!” I leaned into him, protecting myself as he neared the doorway.
“Have a little faith.” As if by magic, he turned sideways as he approached the portal. I noticed at the last minute the carpet ended a step earlier and knew his cheat immediately.
He crossed to his bed, and set me down gently, following after my body with his own. I’d gone from asleep to vividly awake, wondering if I yet dreamed as his mouth trailed hot kisses down my jaw to nip at my neck.
He drew back, pulling his shirt over his head in one powerful move. I followed him, up onto my knees, taking my turn in a way I hadn’t last time we’d been so close. My mouth went to his skin, tasting him, the puckered scarred places where the fiery beam had almost cost me this chance when it took his sight.
I couldn’t help but marvel at how hard he was even now. Every inch of him was covered in corded muscle. I imagined him training with Micha, fighting to keep the life he’d already made for himself, for the mission he’d set his life to: to rescue and protect.
He undid the buttons of my shirt, peeling it back slowly, his mouth trailing the soft line of the fabric as it reveled my skin inch by inch.
“I wish I could see you, but I know every inch of your body. It’s burnt into my memory as deeply as my own memories go. More clear than even my own face was in the mirror each morning.” His hand ran down my side, slipping my skirt away with a move so subtle I was surprised to find it gone.
I swayed into him, his heat and strength a magnet for my own weak-kneed self.
“You’re what I dream of every night. And during the day, I hear your little footsteps rushing about the place making me think any moment you’d come through the door chiding me for something or other.” His hand pushed my hair back, grasping in his fist. “And this, you’ve not cut it. I like this.”
With a hard tug, he pulled my head back and brought his mouth down hard on mine, urging my lips open with his own. He brought everything of my soul into him, while giving me his in return. My skin was shock and nerves and flesh and wonder. He was light and dark and heat and miracle.
He pulled back as if he could look me in the eye, meet my gaze, and I felt the frustration rolling off him as he realized his vision of me is only that.
I eased forward, soothing and arousing with my hands, exploring his body and letting myself taste and feel in ways I hadn’t before.
This time, this time I’d come to him instead of him taking me and it meant that now as I came, I came with trust and willingness and want.
Lord, how I came with want.
I reached for the button of his jeans, feeling his abs contract as my hand brushed them to unclasp it. I pushed at them, and he leaned back giving me access, allowing me to take the lead. I shove them down in impatience, pushing his briefs along with them. And then, they’re gone and he’s there and ready and I see the struggle for patience on the edge of everything I’ve wanted.
“Jane, I can’t wait… I can’t…”
“Don’t.” My hand reached up to feel his locked jaw ease under my caress. “Don’t wait.”
He rubbed a hand along my thigh, pulling it to wrap around his own body, locking us together and I waited, aching, for him to at last release the hard, desperate pressure rising in me.
But, where I’d expected a possession, I got a sweet, gentleness.
Where I’d expected power, I got constraint.
Where I’d expected lust, I got unrestrained love, a level of adoration and worship in every touch I couldn’t comprehend for myself.
I arched up, meeting him, taking him into me with a slowness that I knew was due to care as I could feel the strain of it on him.
“My little love,” he whispered as he leaned forward to kiss my shoulder before he gave into the roughness I was sure he’d tried to rein.
I rode out the passion with him, cresting high as my body rose to meet his. It was a meeting of our souls in an intimate touch I’d not expected. I’d found myself melting into the heat and passion, but also longing for what he truly gave me.
Acceptance. A home. Himself.
“Forever, Jane.” He rolled, taking me with him, the cool of the air charging goosebumps down my back. “You’ll never hide from me again.”
I didn’t mention that I’d never need to now, that our worlds were as one and aligned.
I laid in his arms, thankful to finally be home as he dropped sweet kisses wherever he could reach
and slowly fell into a light, peaceful sleep.
I sat up, watching him, brushing the hair from his brow and studying the lines of this most beloved face. I couldn’t help but think about the nights not so long past when I would sit in my window, watching for just a glimpse of him. And now he was mine.
As he had sworn.
I followed him into rest knowing that at last, we were as we should be.
Chapter 50
Reader, I married him.
The ceremony was small, private. The residents of Tower House, with Adelia dressed better than the bride or the groom, and Thorne’s men—or the ones who I had met up to that point. I was to come to understand there were more and that their allegiance to him ran deeper than I could have anticipated.
It was the day that I would have wished it to be, clear and honest. No secrets between us now. The wedding was only three days after I had arrived. I’d had to send word to the girls and Saint. Only two congratulations came back to me. I pictured Saint silently angry at my betrayal but knew that in the end, we would both end up happier.
I also suggested that perhaps Thorne knew of a connection who might look more kindly upon their arrangement and youth.
Together we had planned the move to the city and take up the reins of Gauntlet again, picking up the slack he feared he’d allowed to grow in his absence even as Micha continued to assure him he had not.
The house was being locked up with a note to ourselves to decide with time and distance how to handle the property.
“Jane, come walk with me.” Thorne held his arm out as if he would be the one leading me.
I took it gratefully, noting the fresh gleam of gold on his left hand.
We walked along the path toward the lake, both of us wrapped up tight in warm jackets and enjoying the last of the sun. Behind us, the hustle and bustle of the house being packed echoed down.
“Happy?”
“Incredibly so, sir.”
“And, not doubting your decision to go with an old, blind cripple instead of the youthful Adonis.”
Thorne had apparently done the fastest recon ever on my new family a few towns over. He was not pleased to hear I had not exaggerated Saint’s appearance. Of course I hadn’t exaggerated his high-handed manners and need for control either.