The Iron Earl

by K. J. Jackson

  At least she could find her way to and from the dining hall now. And she’d only gotten lost once when leaving the south side conservatory two days ago.

  Progress.

  She’d managed to map out a good portion of the castle in her mind and no longer needed to wait for Lachlan or a passing servant to escort her about.

  The approaching footsteps didn’t slow so Evalyn stopped and waited, avoiding the oncoming collision.

  A woman in a crisp garnet day dress rounded the corner and drew up, her hand on her chest when she saw Evalyn. Slightly taller than Evalyn, the woman had the most gorgeous dark hair draped over her left shoulder, its glossiness sparkling in the light from the window at the end of the hall.

  “You.” The woman sputtered. “You. I have been waiting to see you.”

  Evalyn blinked hard, not only at the woman’s beauty—at her flawless porcelain skin and her dark lashes setting off intelligent brown eyes—but at the thought of being stalked by this exquisite creature. “Me?”

  “You are Lachlan’s wife, no?” Her hand fell away from her chest.

  “Yes.” Evalyn’s stomach tensed. “Forgive me, have we met?”

  “Nae.” The woman shook her head, her lips pulling back in a tense line. “Nae, I don’t think introducing me to you was on the top of Lachlan’s list.”

  The woman’s words stopped and awkward silence filled the air as the woman studied her.

  Evalyn cleared her throat. “Then I am at the disadvantage, as I do not know who you are.”

  “I am Lady Karta.” Her head tilted to the side. “Lachlan’s betrothed.”

  “His—”

  “Well, no longer his betrothed, as you have seen fit to fulfill the job.”

  “You are the one?” Evalyn had to draw up her dropped jaw. “Then I do owe you an apology. I did not set out to marry Lachlan. I did not intend to interfere with his promise to your family.”

  The woman nodded, her canny brown eyes still taking measure of Evalyn from head to toe. “You are aware he married you as revenge against your stepfather?”

  Evalyn’s head snapped backward. What did this woman know of it? She offered a slight nod. “I do know.”

  Karta’s pretty brown eyes widened for a long second, then narrowed at Evalyn. “You do? I would have thought Lachlan would keep that information to himself. Heaven knows he was never one to speak the slightest word to me.”

  Evalyn set an apologetic smile on her face. “He has not discussed the matter with me, but I can only imagine he has made recompense to your family for the broken betrothal?”

  Karta flipped her hand in the air. “He has, or so my father mentioned. It’s why we are here at Vinehill.”

  Evalyn searched her face. The woman obviously didn’t like her, but she also didn’t seem overly distraught at the thought of losing Lachlan. “Forgive me, Lady Inverton, but you do not seem overly distressed that Lachlan has broken the engagement.”

  “No?”

  Evalyn shook her head.

  “I suppose I’m not.” Karta sighed. “I have been shuffled from one betrothal to another, and now I get the slightest hope that maybe—for once—I can have some say as to who I marry, and you, an uppity Englishwoman of all things, steal it from me, just as you stole Lachlan.”

  “Wait.” Evalyn’s hand lifted, palm to her. “You didn’t want to marry Lachlan?”

  “No.” Her eyes lifted upward. “Nor his brother. That was my first betrothal that I was duty bound to. Something you would not understand.” Her gaze dropped to Evalyn, the side of her mouth pulling back. “What I am distressed at is the fact that you seem to think you can lay claim on all the finest men here at Vinehill. It is poor form.”

  “I—what?”

  Karta’s arms crossed over the line of gold buttons lining her crisp garnet-hued jacket. “Domnall.”

  “Domnall? What about Domnall?”

  “You can’t take all the men—and having Domnall swear to marry you should anything befall Lachlan goes too far.”

  Picking up her skirts, Karta tried to step around her, but Evalyn threw out her arm, stopping Karta before she could pass. “Wait, please. What do you mean, Domnall is to marry me?”

  She shrugged. “Lachlan asked him for the oath on it and now Domnall is duty-bound to it.”

  “But—but I have no intention of marrying Domnall.”

  Karta’s left eyebrow lifted. “Yes, and you had no intention of marrying Lachlan, either. I understand exactly how you work, Lady Dunhaven.” Her hand forceful, she pushed down on Evalyn’s outstretched arm, then passed, moving quickly along the corridor and disappearing at the split at the end of the hallway.

  Her footsteps drifted to silence as Evalyn stayed rooted to the spot, working through what Karta had just told her.

  Lachlan. The bloody fool.

  How dare he?

  She spun, retracing her steps down to the conservatory, then veered to the left, searching for the study that she knew was on the main level of the castle, but couldn’t quite remember the exact location of.

  She flung open the doors of four rooms before the fifth door revealed the study.

  Lachlan was sitting behind a wide walnut desk, papers and ledgers strewn across it. Mr. Simmons, the solicitor of the estate she’d been introduced to two days ago, sat perched opposite him. The man had oddly white hair, for how young his face looked, and she hadn’t been able to decide if the man was older with a young face or younger with old hair.

  Both looked up as the door she flung open slammed into the wall.

  “Evalyn?”

  She stepped into the room, stomped halfway to the desk and then stopped, her feet rooted in place, her arms lifting to clasp just below her breasts. “Lachlan.”

  His name seethed from her chest—from the pit of indignation that simmered into a boil the moment she stepped into the room.

  His brow crinkled, his bottom lip jutting up for a moment before his look shifted to Mr. Simmons. “Would you excuse us?”

  “Of course, my lord.” Mr. Simmons quickly gathered up the three ledgers in front of him, stacking them on top of one another, and he stood, turning to the door.

  With a kind smile that held not a hint of judgement, Mr. Simmons made his way past Evalyn.

  “Close the door on your way.” Lachlan’s gruff voice instantly spiked her ire and drew her attention back to him.

  The door gently clicked closed.

  “How could you?” Before he could utter a sound, she pounced, stalking over to the desk, slamming her hands on the edge of the smooth walnut.

  He looked up at her through hooded eyes. “I do a lot of things, Evalyn. You’re going to have to be more specific.”

  “Domnall.” The name dripped from her lips, full of spite.

  “What about Domnall?”

  “You pawned me off to him.”

  “I did what?”

  “You made him promise to marry me if anything should happen to you. Do you have some sort of death wish that I don’t know about, Lachlan? Something you should have told me? I know you’re drowning in a cauldron of hate, but to pass me off to Domnall? What about what he wants? What about what I want?”

  For a moment, Lachlan visibly held his breath, his head shaking. He slowly got to his feet. “I’m protecting you, Evalyn.”

  “Protecting me? You think you can just swap out one husband for another?” Her right hand lifted and slammed onto the desk.

  His look dipped down to her hand, then slowly traveled up her body until he met her eyes. “Well, yes. I guess I did think I could do that.” His voice was painfully even, devoid of any emotion. “I thought I was ensuring you were to be protected under any circumstance. I thought—”

  “I don’t want another husband, Lachlan.” Her voice screeching, she cut him off. “I want you. I want you not doing something so entirely idiotic in the name of protecting me that I lose you. I want you.”

  His head snapped back, the vehemence in her words a blow. “H
ow did you even find out about this, Evalyn?”

  “Lady Inverton. I met her in a corridor on the way to our room.”

  His right brow arched. “You met Karta? I haven’t even met with her and her father yet.”

  “Apparently, your grandfather has already taken care of that trifling detail.”

  Lachlan’s fist clunked onto the desk, loose papers crunching under the force. “Damn him.”

  “Damn him?” Her eyes pinned him. “How about damn you, Lachlan? Did it ever occur to you to ask Domnall what he wants for himself? Did you know Lady Inverton wants him—apparently she has for some time?”

  “No, I didn’t know that.” He shook his head. “But that’s of no consequence now. Let me do this, leave things with Domnall as they are.”

  “No.”

  He drew in a deep breath and rounded the desk, setting himself next to her left side. Close, but their bodies not touching.

  Space she imagined he was giving her for her anger.

  It didn’t matter. He overwhelmed her whether he was ten feet or ten inches away.

  His fingers twitched as though he wanted to grab her, shake her to see his reason. “Let this be, Eva. I need this assurance for you in my mind.”

  She sucked in a deep breath, her lips drawing inward for several heartbeats. How to make him understand when she didn’t truly understand her own anger setting her nerves on fire?

  Clarity hit her with the fifth heartbeat—why this action of his shook her to her core.

  “No. I’ll not let it be.” Her hands pushed off the desk and she turned to face him. “I’m so damn tired of being afraid, Lachlan. And if I let you do this—let you shuffle me off to Domnall—then I’m not in this with you—in our marriage. It makes me still afraid—afraid of the thousand possibilities that could happen—the ways you could leave me alone. It makes me build more moats around my heart for fear of the unknown.”

  Her right knuckles rapped onto the desk. “And I am done with it. Done with the constant fear. I am in this with you, Lachlan. For good or for bad. Not until tragedy happens. Not until I need to escape again. I’m in it with you. You alone.”

  For a moment, his eyes narrowed, his breath seething.

  In the next instant, he rammed into her, his arms wrapping her, his mouth ravenous on her lips.

  Instant, like it always was, how quickly he overtook her. How quickly she melted into the boulder of his body, needing her limbs entwined with his. The heat of him pounding deep within her. The whole of it terrifying in how much he made her want him—made her need him.

  But no.

  She had to stop this—had to make him understand.

  Wedging her arms between them, she pushed against his chest.

  No movement.

  She shoved.

  He broke away, the hunger in his eyes near to eating her up in just one blink.

  “You’ll rescind the promise from Domnall?”

  “Eva—“

  Her voice set hard, her palms pounded onto his chest. “Swear it.”

  He stared at her, the blue streaks in his hazel eyes on fire. He exhaled a breath, his head shaking against his words. “Yes—yes, I’ll relieve him of his promise.”

  “It’s only you, Lachlan. Only you.”

  “I’m beginning to understand that very thing, Eva.”

  “Good.” She captured his face in her hands, drawing him closer, her already bruised lips finding his once more.

  The frenzy of her core had already pitched high, demanding release, and her hands dropped from his face to attack his clothes. Dragging off his jacket, her fingers moved forward to make quick work of the buttons on the front falls of his trousers. The fabric fell and his shaft lifted high, demanding, into the open air.

  He didn’t need any cajoling, his hands running along her sides to her breasts, teasing her nipples through the wool of the fabric. Insistent, he tugged the bodice of her dress downward, freeing her right nipple.

  His mouth left hers, diving to her breast, to tug the delicate skin with his teeth.

  A guttural gasp flew from her mouth. Just like she liked it. Just like he liked it.

  His hands went to the sides of her skirts, bunching the fabric up on either side of her. She twisted them so his rear was to his desk and she pushed him backward.

  He dropped, sitting on the edge of the smooth walnut, scattered papers half under him.

  Before he could say a word, she crawled on top of his lap, straddling him on the desk.

  The rumble of a low laugh shook into the room. “Wanton minx.”

  “Debaucher of innocent maidens.” She leaned forward, catching his lower lip in her teeth and tugging it. She nipped at it until he growled, lifting her hips and positioning her over his straining member.

  She’d known nothing of the possibilities of the pleasures of the flesh weeks ago, but she’d been a quick study. And she knew her husband liked a little pain with his pleasure.

  He also wanted to slow the pace. But she wasn’t about to allow it.

  Locking her knees on the desk in place, she settled herself downward in a rush, his shaft sliding up into her in one long motion. In quick succession, she lifted herself and drew him back into her—fast—the initial stokes brutal in her need.

  She paused when he filled her to the hilt, their bodies fused. Paused to capture his mouth again, to kiss him so soundly he was panting for breath, gasping for release.

  “Hell, Eva.” Her name trailed off as his hands along her back clenched, his fingers digging into the muscles.

  “Yes, my husband?” A lascivious grin caught her lips in between her labored breaths. Her thighs straining, she lifted herself up along his shaft. Slowly. Painful in the torture for him. For her.

  At the rib of his tip, she stopped, hovering above him, her eyes locked on his.

  “Only you, Lachlan.”

  “Yes.” The one word lifted brutal from his lips, a plea and a promise.

  She let herself drop, sliding down him and it was all he needed, his shaft expanding within her, filling her core to the brim. His growl vibrated into the air, into her chest and she lifted. Three more quick strokes against the power of his throbbing member and it sent her over the precipice.

  Her body clamped down hard onto itself, the force of it shocking her so fiercely she thought it was death—death there to steal her away. Like every time with Lachlan deep inside of her, her body reacted in savage ways to his touch—and not only her body—her soul.

  Terrifying and addicting, all in one.

  He yanked her hard into his chest, clutching her so tight to his body their breaths were one. Gasp after gasp, and it still took long moments for the air dragging into their lungs to return to normalcy.

  Lachlan shifted backward slightly, bringing his hands up to capture her face and cup her cheeks. “Know it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do—extracting the promise from Dom, insuring you were taken care of.” He paused, swallowing hard. “Having to imagine you with another man.”

  “I’ll say it again, since you don’t seem to be hearing it—I don’t want anyone but you, Lachlan.” Her look expectantly pinned him.

  “Yes?” His brow furrowed, confused.

  She chuckled. “This is where you tell me you don’t want anyone but me.”

  A smile lifted his cheeks and he shook his head. “I don’t.” He tugged her face close to his, his breath caressing her cheek as his fingers ran along the sides of her jaw. A deep sigh and his voice escaped low, guttural. “I’m finding, against all my intentions…I need this, Eva. I need you.”

  { Chapter 18 }

  Blast it all to hell.

  He knew this would happen. He just didn’t think it would be so soon.

  Lachlan’s heavy steps echoed along the stone corridor, even as he tried to lighten the thunking of his heels on the ancient worn limestone.

  He stepped through the open door onto the gravel path leading into the conservatory.

  Evalyn wasn�
��t on the bench in the far right nook of the room, though the book she was currently reading sat open on the adjoining side table. Secluded by the lemon-scented gum trees and with the sunlight streaming in, it had become her favorite spot at Vinehill.

  He searched along the greenery of herbs, the rows of vegetables, and along the orange trees looking for her head. A brush of skirts rustled in the far left corner and he walked three-quarters of the way into the conservatory, stopping when he had full view of his wife.

  Bent over, Evalyn twisted her body, her arm outstretched to pluck a tiny sprout of a weed from the plant bed where basil grew.

  “Haagert is now letting you weed unsupervised?”

  She jumped, a small gasp fluttering from her lips as she stood straight and found him. A smile, beaming with pride cut across her lips. “He is, can you believe it? And it only took eight days of pestering him straight for him to give me leave to do so.” Her head swiveling, she glanced around her as she dropped the weed into a pile by her feet. “Though I would not be surprised if Haagert’s hiding in here somewhere, watching my every move and ready to pounce and slap my hand should my fingers stray near a desirable plant.”

  Lachlan chuckled, though the sound echoed hollow to his ears. Blast it, he didn’t want to have to pull her away from here. Away from the one room aside from their bedroom that she’d found solace in.

  Evalyn wiped her fingers on the apron that wrapped her blue wool dress. A few alterations to the hems and his sister’s wardrobe had served Evalyn well. “I’d never had time to think much on the growing of anything at my stepfather’s estate, as I’d always been too busy being at his beck and call. But this is so much”—her head pulled back, her lips pulling to the side as she searched for the word—“fun, I guess is what I would call it. The little miracles of plants growing out of dirt.”

  “I doubt Haagert would classify this as fun—more akin to his life’s work, I would think, for how possessive he is of this room. I’m impressed you managed to make him into a friend.”

  “I don’t know if one could say friend just yet.” She shrugged. “Thorn in his side, a buzzing bee that will not let him free—that is more the looks he gives me. But I am determined to learn all I can from him.”