by Geneva Lee
“There are those of us who weren't chosen in the lottery of birth, who've had to crawl our way out of the gutter, watching while men like you and your father abuse their power. I know everything about you, Alexander. I know the twisted secrets you keep in your closet. I know why you were sent off to the war.”
“Yes, I was very privileged then,” I said dryly. I crossed my arms and leaned against the wall. If he wanted to talk, let him. It occurred to me that Brexton might overhear something I had chosen to keep secret from him, but I could no longer afford secrets. Clara had shown me that. I had to learn to trust the people around me. That was the only way I was going to protect my family from men like him in the future.
“Daddy couldn't abide having a perverted son,” Jacobson said, “And then he got stuck with a gay one. The lottery of birth, once again. But it never mattered when you sinned, did it? Never did a thing to earn your place, and yet you sit in judgment of me.”
My eyes narrowed as I considered what he was saying. To be honest, I had expected more of him. There were questions I had, ones that would need to be answered in the coming weeks to ensure that the threat ended with him.
Perhaps after he told us more, we would understand how he had inspired the treachery of Hammond, but I suspected he simply bought it.
“You don't live in the gutter now,” I pointed out. Smith had filled me in on more particulars about our suspect while we waited for Brexton to bring him in.
“As I said, I clawed myself free,” he started, but I cut him off.
“Charles Dickens would be proud of you, but the rest of England has no patience for traitors.”
“There are more like me,” he warned. “Men who want to see the monarchy overturned, men who will enact legislation.”
“Let them,” I roared, losing my patience. “Do you want to talk about the lottery of birth? You claim to have been born in a gutter and to have fought your way to the top. That might have been admirable if you'd done so for the right reasons, but misplaced obsession only breaks a man.”
I knew a thing or two about that, but I wouldn't bother to share it with this scum.
“It's easy for you to say,” Jacobson began. “You've never had any choices.”
“I have.” I cut him off. “I chose to be a good man. You could've done the same. It's too late for that now, so I hope you rot in hell.”
He began to talk wildly, but I was past the point of giving him any more of my time. He'd stolen precious moments from my life and from my family. He'd taken away things we could never have back, and I would never give him the satisfaction of a minute more. The heavy cell door groaned shut behind me.
Smith looked up from the floor, mouth opened, but I held my hand up before he could apologize. There was no need. He'd shown amazing restraint this evening. I couldn't hold it against him when he yelled at the man.
“What now?” Smith asked. “Now we lock him up and we throw away the key,” I told him, “And then we go home.”
“You are home,” Smith pointed out.
“Neither of us are home.” I shook my head at the absurdity of the thought. “Our homes are in Scotland with our wives.”
19
It was Christmas Eve. Guests would be arriving any minute, and David wasn't speaking to him.
It had taken Edward an embarrassingly long time to realize his fiancé was hiding. Once he began to search for him he quickly began to panic. It had been a long time since David ran away, but he'd always had good cause to do so before.
Edward had asked a lot of him in the early years of their relationship. Whereas David had never needed to hide his sexuality, he had done so to protect Edward. Now, once again, Edward had managed to drive him away, and he didn't know why. It didn't help that Balmoral had dozens of rooms for David to abscond to. Checking them all might take the rest of the day. While it might be considered rude not to greet his guests, he wasn't about to spend Christmas without his love.
An hour later he'd checked half of the house and panic was subsiding into frustration. The sound of movement in the west library caught his attention, and he doubled back to check the space again. David didn't bother to hide when Edward entered the room. Instead, he glanced up from a book and frowned.
“I've been looking for you everywhere.” Edward spread his hands in concern, but it didn't vanquish the displeasure on David's face.
“I was reading,” he said shortly.
“I can see that.” Edward willed himself to find a reserve of patience he hadn't yet tapped.
David had never been as comfortable around large groups as Edward was, but he couldn't avoid them forever, not if he wanted to marry into this unusual, dysfunctional family.
“I'm not avoiding guests,” David explained to him, “I'm avoiding you.”
That was a bad sign. Edward considered his options, finally deciding to take the seat across from David. “And why is that?”
“Don't you have guests to attend to?” David asked.
“No one is more important than you.” Edward tried to sound reassuring, but this only seemed to ratchet up the tension between them.
“No one?” David repeated. “Not Belle or Clara?”
Edward's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “They're here to help with the wedding.”
“I'm here to help with the wedding,” David cut him off, “But I've barely seen you the last few days.”
“I'm sorry. I guess I wanted everything to be perfect.” Edward knew it wasn’t an excuse, and from the looks of it David wasn't going to let him off the hook so easily.
“And I just wanted to be with you. That's what this is supposed to be about. We said no big wedding. Remember?” David prompted.
He tossed his book on a nearby end table and sighed.
“This is about us,” but even Edward couldn't bring himself to believe it. He had been focused on the cake and the flowers. He had poured over the words he wanted Alexander to use when he married them, and he'd been making quiet trips into the village to procure supplies. I wanted to give you a wedding, that was what he meant to say.
David deserved one.
He had certainly waited for one.
“I only ever asked for an ‘I Do,’” David reminded him. He stood, moving to leave the room, but Edward grabbed his hand.
“Don't go,” he urged, “Allow me to apologize properly for being a wanker.”
“I'm not sure there are enough words in the English language for that apology,” David said, but he paused.
He didn't pull out of Edward's grip. Instead, their hands remained linked.
“Am I really that bad?” Edward asked.
“Sometimes when Clara and Belle are around,” David told him. “When they are you go into girlfriend mode. It makes me jealous.”
“Jealous of Clara and Belle?” Edward said incredulously.
“Well, I don't think you're going to run off with them,” David's response was dry, but Edward spotted the hurt in his eyes, “You do leave me out though.”
“I guess we leave all the men out.” Edward held up his hands. “I'm not trying to make an excuse. I'm just trying to understand.”
A flicker of a smile betrayed David. “So, I'm the man then?”
“Of course, you are,” Edward said, “I'm the one who likes dresses, after all.”
David groaned, but before he could come back with another retort Edward stood and pressed his lips to his. “Tell me when I'm being a prick,” Edward commanded.
“Notice when I'm being a loner,” David suggested.
“You know, I'm told that marriage isn't easy,” Edward said, “But I think it will be worth it if you are by my side.”
They had encountered rough waters before. There had been storms that nearly tore them apart, but somehow, they had clung together. That's how they survived.
“I couldn't live without you,” Edward whispered.
“I just want to live with you,” David said gently.
“You are my everything,” E
dward promised. “And I'm going to give you the world.”
David brushed a kiss over his lips. Then he pulled back, grinning impishly, “Anything?”
“Anything,” Edward repeated, despite the alert bells ringing inside him. David grabbed his other hand and pulled him close. “Good, because I'd love to talk about a baby.”
20
I strode into Balmoral Castle like I owned the place, which in point of fact, I did. Unlike my other homes, Balmoral belonged to my family rather than being given to me in trust of my title. Norris met me at the door but he was too late to stop my entry.
“You're getting soft,” I informed him good-naturedly.
His head cocked to the side. “You—if you don't mind me saying so—are less paranoid.”
“It's a new day,” I informed him.
As a matter of fact, it was Christmas Eve. I had made good on my promise to Clara. I would spend Christmas with my wife and daughter. Now I just needed to find them.
Signs of Edward's penchant for decor were all around. The entire castle looked like a Christmas village had been blown up and its remnants scattered throughout. I didn't wait for Smith to follow behind me. We'd traveled together mostly in silence as we contemplated the events of the last day, but instead of tension, the atmosphere had been one of relief. We both knew we had our entire lives ahead of us and our wives waiting for us in Scotland.
Mrs. Watson met me as I passed the kitchen, wiping her hands on an apron, then throwing them around me. “I was wondering when you would get here, sir.”
“Do not call me sir,” I ordered her. I was fairly certain this woman had changed my nappies, but pride kept me from bringing that up.
“There's so much going on,” she explained. “But first, young Edward wants to speak with you.”
“And I to him,” I said absently. “But first, tell me where my wife is.”
“They'll be in the parlor with the wee one.”
I pulled away from the old housekeeper, kissing her on the cheek before I left. “Tell me she isn't the prettiest thing you've ever seen,” I called over my shoulder.
“The prettiest,” Watson confirmed.
I paused in the doorway and took in the scene before me. The Christmas tree was lit, crowded around the base with so many presents that I couldn't imagine where we would put them all—and I lived in a palace. The fire crackled in the hearth, warming the room and casting it in a heavenly glow. This was exactly where I needed to be.
I saw that now.
It had taken me far too long to get here. I had seen to my work and nothing would ever stand between me and my family again. Clara was in the middle of the chaos, her arms wrapped around Elizabeth as she held her up to everyone's delight.
“There aren't nearly enough babies in this scene,” I announced in a booming voice. The conversation died down.
Madeline Bishop looked up from her granddaughter. She was a gorgeous, older woman with wavy chestnut hair like her daughters. I imagined Clara would be like that someday. I only hoped she was less high-strung. She called over to me, “Whose fault is that?”
“No one’s but my own,” I admitted. Striding across the room, I stole my daughter from Clara's arms. Kissing her on the forehead, I passed her off to Belle, who took her with a natural ease. I paused, eying her momentarily. Later on, I'd have to study her for signs. She might be good for bringing more babies into the Christmas scene next year. Regardless, I had plans on filling that need on my own.
Bending down, I took Clara's hand and drew her quickly to her feet. “I think I’ll see to it now,” I said. Then I scooped her over my shoulder and carried her off. She was too surprised to protest, even as everyone around us began to laugh.
As soon as we hit the hallway, she began to pound on my back. “Put me down. This is undignified.”
“Want me to list all the undignified things we've done in our relationship? I can do that, or I can take you upstairs.”
She melted at the suggestion, the fight going out of her body. Apparently, I had been right to assume that my wife wanted to see me. We only made it to the private corridor that led to our bedroom before I lost my patience. I lowered Clara to her feet.
“Do you remember the first time you met my family?” I asked her.
She grimaced at the unpleasant memory. “I do.”
I caught her hips in my hands and began to slide the fabric of her skirt up to her waist. “Do you remember what happened after?”
“I remember that you gave me some excuses about your compulsions.” Fire danced in her blue eyes, and I couldn’t stop myself from kissing her. She responded with her body, pressing herself against me as I hooked my thumbs in her knickers and pushed them to the ground.
I couldn’t get enough of her. I never would. But, God help me, that wouldn’t stop me from trying. Pulling away, I lingered, my lips a breath away from her own. “I told you that some compulsions are healthy.”
“Not all of them,” she protested, even as she fought to get closer to me.
“This is,” I murmured. I dipped my hand between her legs, my fingers spreading her cunt. “Spread wider, poppet.”
There was no hesitation. We might need to work on our communication in other avenues, but sex was a language we spoke fluently. Clara responded to my touch as wantonly as the first time we met. I might never give her everything she needed, but I would try—and I would never fail where it came to her body.
“You can’t control me,” she whimpered, but she didn’t protest as I brought my free hand to her stomach and held her against the wall. If that’s what she thought this was about then I needed to clarify a few things.
“It’s not about control. Not this. Not now.” I trailed my lips along her ivory jaw, writing my promises in breath against her skin. “I’m compelled to give you pleasure. I’m willing to compromise everywhere else, but I will fuck you. I will make love to you. I will take you to the edge and hold you as you spill over. Ecstasy is what I demand of you. I can’t quiet my need to give it you. It is a healthy compulsion.”
Her response hitched in her throat, a strangled mewl of longing escaping past her lips. Finally, she managed two, small words. “Yes, please.”
I didn’t need her permission, and I wouldn’t ask for it. Not when it came to making her come. Watching Clara writhe with pleasure, helpless to resist, was my oxygen. The rest of my life was spent holding my breath until the next time I could gasp for air again. I could compromise on every other issue. I would strive to be the man she deserved and one that she could trust. She would be protected and respected in my arms. But she could never deny this need.
Trailing kisses up her naked thighs, I savored each one as I worshipped her body. I would give her my devotion just as I had given her my life. I slid my tongue slowly to the hollow between them, and her hands tangled in my hair. Her reaction took me back to that night in the hall. I had barely known her then, but I was already her captive. Drawing the tip of my tongue along the wet heat of her seam, I felt my cock twitch with impatience. He would have to wait, because I was exactly where I wanted to be.
“Let go, poppet,” I urged, her scent flooding my nostrils as I spoke. “I’m going to fuck you with my mouth. I need to taste you as you come.”
She inhaled sharply as if bracing herself, and I thrust my tongue inside her. I stroked hard only pausing on her delicious clit. Her fingers tightened their grip on my hair, and she began to shake. Wrapping my arms around her legs, I held her against me as I continued my assault. She didn’t hold back as she came, her arousal gushing against my mouth. When she tried to pull away, I didn’t let go. Instead, I idled there, brushing kisses along her trembling cunt.
Finally, she released my head, but she didn’t break away. “I need to feel you inside me.”
I was on my feet with her in my arms instantly. She sagged against me, her face tucked below my chin so that I could feel the soft heat of her breath. Kicking the door closed behind us, I lowered her to her feet. When
she took a shaky step toward me, my arms were waiting to catch her. “Let me help you, poppet.”
She clung to me as I lifted her skirt up and drew her dress over her head. Abandoning it to the floor, I studied her body appreciatively. It wasn’t the same as when we first met, this body was more beautiful, softened by motherhood and ripened by cultivation. I brought my hands to her breasts and skimmed over them, pausing to flick her nipples. They hardened into two beads that I couldn’t resist. Slanting my head, I sucked a mouthful between my lips and Clara cried out. Moving to the other I couldn’t help but toy with her. “I could make you come like this with my tongue and my teeth.”
“I think you just proved that,” she complained through gritted teeth.
“I was willing to prove it again, but…” The back of my head was shoved closer, and I chuckled.
“More,” she demanded as I nipped the delicate furls.
I couldn’t wait any longer to fulfill her request. Cupping her ass, I lifted her so she could wrap her legs around my waist.
“Slowly,” I cautioned her as her sex nudged against the broad crown of my cock. It was as much a reminder to myself as it was to her. I had to fight the impulse to plunge inside her. Even after all this time, her entrance strained to accommodate me. She glided down my shaft, her cunt rippling against the engorged flesh. But it wasn’t enough. I needed more. I longed to be brutally deep inside my wife. Moving toward the bed, I lowered our bodies slowly, never breaking our union.
Clara brushed a strand of hair away from her eyes, and our gazes met. We stayed like that, seeing into one another’s souls, as I rocked myself fully inside her. Clara’s head tipped back and she struggled to maintain the visual contact as she began to unravel. It was the most beautiful vision in the world—her porcelain body quivering uncontrollably. She bit down on her lower lip, sobs pouring from her, as she came. Her cunt clamped against me, drawing forth my orgasm in punctuated spasms, until I emptied inside her.
I held her for a few minutes or a few hours, her body clutched to mine. We laid in silence, the only movement a brush of the fingers or a soft, fleeting kiss. When I finally withdrew, I watched mesmerized as my seed spilled from her swollen pink mound.