Earl of Destiny

by K. J. Jackson

She blinked, stung at his words. She had not even been thinking of the past—she tried very hard to not do so—but memories bubbled from her gut, chasing up her chest to land in a lump in her throat.

  Taking a step backward from him, her thighs hit the wingback chair as she unwittingly went rigid. “I…I was not speaking of the past.”

  Lord Luhaunt stared at her, flames from the fire flickering in his brown eyes as he watched her intensely.

  Brianna’s gaze dropped from him, finding the black marble threshold of the fireplace to concentrate on. What did he want from her? She had been trying. Trying as hard as she was capable of to get through this with the utmost pleasantness. But now. Now with thoughts of Gregory invading her mind…

  “Stop.”

  The fierceness of the word made her eyes jerk up to him.

  He grabbed her left hand, wedging his thumb into her palm and lifting her hand. His voice went low, soft. “Stop thinking. Stop the frown. Stop your nails from attacking your thumb. You are dwelling upon things that hurt you. I can see it.”

  Startled, Brianna looked at her hand, now being held still by Lord Luhaunt.

  “Wherever you are in your mind, Brianna, you need to stop. You are here with me. And whatever happened in the past is not what is happening here, happening now.”

  His other hand came up, his fingers slipping under her hair, curling around her neck. “You were hurt. I can see that. You did not enjoy it.”

  He leaned in, his lips by her ear, his voice a smooth rumble. “You will enjoy it with me, Brianna. I will ensure it. My hands on your body. My mouth on yours. You will writhe under me, and your body will arch into everything I have planned for you, Brianna. You just need to let me.”

  His words filling her head, he touched his lips to her skin, fire on the spot. Moving down her neck, his tongue trailed along her skin. He dropped her hand, his fingers sliding inward along the edge of her robe, tugging at the fabric to gain access to her skin.

  Brianna lost herself in it for a moment, lost herself in the sensation of his mouth adoring her skin, the shivers down her spine, her speeding breath tightening her chest. Heaven. Heaven on her neck, her nerves turned to flame.

  The exact thing she felt in the past.

  She fell too quickly into it. The exact thing that she had felt years ago, body and soul. The burning in her core. The aching. Her body begging for more.

  Lord Luhaunt was wrong in his assumption. So very wrong. She did enjoy it—she had enjoyed it immensely. Too much so.

  And it was the exact thing she was betrayed by.

  She stiffened under his touch.

  The robe slipped off her body, and she froze in place. Unable to respond. To talk. To move. Yet still, Luhaunt continued his assault on her skin.

  His lips moved against her collarbone. “You do know, Brianna. You know quite well what to wear.”

  His hand went onto the base of her neck, his fingers wrapping into her hair as his mouth dropped further on her body, and he loosened the top tie of ribbon on her sheer nightdress. It dropped open, exposing her left breast.

  His mouth descended upon her nipple, sucking, teasing.

  She tightened even further, leaning away from him. Leaning away from what her body craved. Away from how she wanted to arch her breast into him.

  He was right. He could make her body want it.

  And it was exactly what she wasn’t about to let happen.

  Brianna closed her eyes, her arms going rigid at her sides.

  Luhaunt’s mouth left her nipple. She could feel him straighten in front of her, his breath heavy, the hot air wispy on her cheek.

  She cracked her eyes.

  He was watching her, his face only a breath away with a speculative look in his eyes. She could see she was a puzzle he was determined to solve.

  “I do not want you like this, Brianna.”

  Her eyes opened fully to him. “I am trying, Lord Luhaunt. My sister—you—forced me into this marriage. I am doing what is necessary. And I am attempting to do so with the least amount of foolish spectacle.”

  “Unacceptable.” He shook his head, sighing, then took a step away from her. “This is not necessary. This cannot be an obligation—a duty, Brianna. I will not accept that from you.”

  “But it is what you wanted—the obligation of a wife. That is what you said.”

  “I wanted you, Brianna. The wife part was merely the preceding formality.”

  “Oh.”

  No matter how many times Luhaunt said he wanted her, Brianna could not bring herself to believe him. She doubted she ever would.

  “You are not ready. I had hoped the week without seeing me would have helped, but it has not.” He reached forward, grabbing the top ribbon of her nightdress. With more delicacy from his large hands than she would have expected, he retied the ribbon into a perfect bow. “So I give you time.”

  He bent to pick up her robe, wrapping it around her shoulders.

  “You do?” Brianna eyed him suspiciously.

  “Yes. I only ask two things in return.”

  Of course. This was when the demands would appear. She pulled her robe tighter around her torso. “Which are?”

  “The first thing I ask is that you call me Seb. Or Sebastian. No Lord Luhaunt. It is grating from you. That was my father, not me.”

  Brianna’s head tilted, disbelief in her eyes. That request was too easy. “I can do as you ask. What is the second?”

  “The second thing—you will sleep in bed with me.” He pointed at his enormous bed. “I will not touch you. Not until you ask me to. But you sleep in my bed with me.”

  “Tonight?”

  “Every night.”

  Brianna glanced across the room at Sebastian’s bed. It was large enough. She could wiggle herself to an edge, and never be anywhere near him.

  She looked back to him, meeting his dark brown eyes, knowing she shouldn’t trust him. But these were simple things. Simple things for a husband to request of a wife. She took a deep breath.

  “All I have to do is change what I call you and sleep in your bed? And you will not touch me?”

  He gave her one nod.

  “Before I agree, I have one request of you.”

  “I would expect no less.”

  “May we remain at Notlund throughout the summer? I had meant to ask you before today, but I was holding out hope…” Her voice petered out awkwardly.

  “Hope that the marriage would not happen?”

  She met his eyes, nodding. “Yes. But it has, so I cannot worry upon that anymore. But I cannot curb my worry over my sister. I do not want her to be left without guidance as she contemplates the worth of her suitors. I need to be here to protect her.”

  “She has Rowe and Wynne.”

  “Yes. And they are wonderful. But she needs me. She will not make a good decision without me.”

  “Are you sure? Your sister seems like an intelligent young lady. One that is perfectly capable of deciding upon a husband.”

  “She is not.”

  “No?”

  “No. So may we stay at Notlund? Just through the summer. Just through the visits from Lord Bepton and Lord Rallager and their respective parties. Lily needs my guidance.”

  A half smile crossed Sebastian’s mouth. One Brianna couldn’t quite place.

  “I will agree to your request if you will agree to mine,” he said.

  Brianna nodded, relieved. “I do.”

  It was the second “I do” she said that day, and it struck her that for as much trepidation as had accompanied the first one, the second one had managed to ease much of her anxiety.

  Her eyes flickered to her husband.

  The man was clever.

  Had he planned this as well?

  { Chapter 7 }

  Brianna’s eyes opened to see an elaborately carved coffered ceiling. The pre-dawn glow sneaking in from around the heavy draperies sent an orange hue onto the dark mahogany. The ceiling startled her, and for a second, she panicked. Bu
t then her mind slowly caught up to all the realities of the day before.

  Married. She was married.

  Still stunned at the very thought, she noticed the rock in her gut from the night before had only expanded overnight.

  Except it wasn’t a rock in her gut. It was a forearm draped over her belly.

  Brianna turned her head on the pillow. His face turned away from her, Sebastian was sprawled on his stomach, his bare arm capturing her, heavy on her waist.

  Not touch her indeed.

  Pinkies in the air, she grabbed his forearm with both hands, fingertips sliding along the silky dark hair on his skin. Gently, she lifted his arm and then slipped sideways off the edge of the bed.

  Holding the dead weight of his arm in one hand, she grabbed the pillow and wedged it into the spot where her belly had been.

  He didn’t move. Didn’t rustle. Perfect.

  Still in her robe from the previous night, she cracked the door and tiptoed out of the room, quickly making her way through the maze of hallways to get to her chambers. No matter that it was the first day after her wedding, she was already late and she needed to get out of the castle and down to the stables before dawn fully broke.

  Three hours later, Brianna was pacing in the abandoned gristmill outside of Pepperton, her boots softly thudding on the rotting wood floor. She stopped in front of the enormous round millstones, flicking loose a piece of rock from the top cracked stone that had been bothering her. Mr. Flemming was already an hour past their appointed meeting time, and Brianna had gone from merely annoyed, to irate.

  She needed to start back to Notlund within a half hour if she was to avoid questions about her whereabouts. She was never out on rides for more than four hours, so being gone for too long, especially on the first morning of her marriage, would be highly suspect.

  She went back to pacing, scattering dust as she twisted her lambskin gloves in her hands.

  It was another ten minutes before the wooden door, half askew on its hinges, creaked open. Mr. Flemming stepped into the damp darkness of the stone structure.

  “I expected you sooner, Mr. Flemming.” Brianna stopped her pacing, smoothing her hair into her tight bun.

  “You are in Yorkshire, Miss Silverton. It is a distance.” Mr. Flemming opened up the worn leather satchel he always carried strapped across his body. “And it has given me very little time to investigate in between these appointments with you.”

  “Then I will pay you to ride faster. And hire another investigator. What have you learned of Lord Newdale?”

  Mr. Flemming pulled a set of papers, folded in thirds, from his bag. “I have discovered nothing as of yet about the brothels he has frequented. But I have discovered this about his financial affairs.”

  He handed the papers to Brianna. She unfolded them and quickly scanned the contents.

  “These are output numbers—Lord Newdale has a copper mine that is failing?” Brianna flipped to the second page.

  “He does. The mine has been supporting the rest of the estate for years. As you know, his lands, although vast, barely support themselves.”

  Brianna nodded, refolding the papers. “How long does it have?”

  “Two years, maybe more.”

  “So if one was planning for the future…”

  “One would be lining up an infusion of cash,” Mr. Flemming said. “Or another means of supporting the estate.”

  “And he has not done so?”

  “He has not diversified his funds into anything else that would help long term. Trading, manufacturing—I have found nothing, as of yet.”

  “You will keep these safe?” She handed him the papers. “I do need to be absolutely assured on any information about Lord Newdale, Mr. Flemming.”

  “I understand. I will get you the answers you need. And do remember, there is the possibility that new deposits in the mine will be discovered.”

  Brianna nodded. “Why do you know nothing yet about the brothels? I have begun to wonder if he may have a stake in them of some sort, instead of just frequenting them for base needs.”

  Mr. Flemming shrugged. “I would presume it is the base needs. But as I have said before, I would prefer to see true evidence, instead of conjecture, before I vilify the man.”

  “I trust you are working on that matter?”

  “I am.”

  “Good. Lord Newdale is only at Notlund for another fortnight, possibly a few days past that. I hope to have answers before his departure so I know how to proceed with Lord Bepton and Lord Rallager. We will meet here the second Monday from today, the same time?”

  “That will be fine, Miss Silverton.”

  “Excellent. Please do be on time.” Brianna’s hands tightened on her gloves. “And your associate, Mr. Welbury, did he send word on the other matter?”

  “He did not. But he did tell me to assure you he is making progress.”

  “I do hope that is so.” She motioned to the door. “Do make haste, Mr. Flemming. There is much to do.”

  With a short nod, Mr. Flemming disappeared out the rickety door.

  Brianna stood in the dim room, staring at the dust floating in the rays of sunlight streaming in through slit openings scattered along stone walls.

  She knew every day that passed, Lily was more and more enamored with Lord Newdale. So much so, that Brianna was afraid Lily had already made up her mind amongst her suitors.

  That wouldn’t do. Not with the nagging questions still lending suspect to Newdale’s character. Brianna would need to start curbing Lily’s time with him before they went down a path it would be hard to dissuade Lily from.

  With a sigh, Brianna pulled on her gloves and walked to the crooked door of the mill, muscling it open. Stepping into the sunlight, she looked around, her eyes adjusting. The chill of last night had already flipped into steamy, oppressive heat. And she still had a long, hot ride back to Notlund in front of her.

  Unbuttoning and stripping off the black jacket of her habit, Brianna rounded the back corner of the mill. There would be no time for stopping at the stream, so if nothing else, she was going to be comfortable with air flowing through her tailored white linen shirt.

  She had tied Moonlight loose enough to a branch so the horse could reach what little water still trickled by in the near-dry creek bed, and now the mare was nibbling on tall grass at the base of an oak tree. It wasn’t until she reached Moonlight, setting her jacket on the saddle, that she could see past her horse.

  Brianna froze.

  Right behind the mare, leaning back onto a tree with one foot propped against the trunk and arms crossed over his chest, Sebastian watched her, calm on his face.

  “You followed me.”

  Sebastian pushed off from the tree. “I was not about to lose my new wife on our first full day of marriage.”

  He walked around Moonlight to stand in front of her. “Is this where you have been disappearing to? To meet with Mr. Flemming?”

  “You listened in on my discussion?” Brianna could feel her face turning red, indignation exploding. She stomped past him, her shaking fingers trying to jerk loose Moonlight’s reins from the branch.

  Sebastian grabbed her elbow, spinning her to him.

  “Should I have charged in, instead, Brianna? My new wife sneaks off before dawn to meet a strange man in an abandoned mill, and you chastise me for listening in? I believe I have shown incredible restraint with the situation.”

  Her eyes went to the sky. “Yes. Incredible restraint. I applaud you.”

  His eyebrow cocked at her.

  She heaved a sigh. “If you spied upon me, then you must full well have figured out Mr. Flemming is a bow street runner I hired to investigate Lord Newdale. This is only the second time I have met with him here in Yorkshire.”

  His hand dropped from her elbow. “You thought to do this on the first day of our marriage?”

  “My meeting with Mr. Flemming was planned well before our wedding was. I could not change the timing of it.”

&nb
sp; “You also could have told me of it. I would have accompanied you here.”

  Brianna blinked hard at his words. The thought had never even occurred to her to tell Sebastian about the meeting. “Yes, well, this is my business. I did not think to drag you into it.”

  He nodded slowly, and Brianna watched his ire evaporate from his face. “So you are investigating your sister’s suitors?”

  “Of course I am—I am not about to let my sister marry a wastrel. I discovered most of what I needed to know of Lord Bepton and Lord Rallager while we were in London. Lord Newdale was a late addition to the mix, so I had little time to discover much about him while we were still in London.”

  “And Mr. Flemming speaks to you about brothels? That is part of the investigation? You think discussion of brothels is appropriate for a gentle bred lady?”

  “Of course it is not.” She met his eyes. “But we are both well-aware that I am a not-so-innocent spinster, so appropriateness passed me by long ago.”

  “I would disagree with that. Do I need to remind you that you are no longer a spinster, Brianna?”

  “No. No you do not. I am painfully aware of my new status.” She waved her hand, dismissing his concerns. “Be that as it may, Mr. Flemming has had little luck discovering what business Lord Newdale has in the brothels.”

  “I would imagine his business in a brothel is the same as any other man’s.”

  “Yes, but I need to be certain.” Brianna took a deep breath for patience. She didn’t care to have to defend her actions. She was doing what she knew was right. “You may think I am going to an extreme, investigating Lily’s suitors, but I am not. I have to be certain of them. And that also means I have to be fair. I cannot scratch Lord Newdale from the list on conjecture alone.”

  “And you get to make that decision for your sister—who gets scratched?”

  “Yes.” Brianna’s arms crossed over her ribs.

  “What about your sister’s feelings?”

  “Feelings should not be a part of her decision to marry.”

  Sebastian’s head cocked. He was staring at her with extreme curiosity again. “I have been around your sister. I imagine she would have a different opinion on that.”

  “Yes, well, that is why I am making the decision.”