Josiah's Bride

by Jory Strong

  Her eyes blazed with joy, as if he'd given her gold coins or jewels. "I'll do what I can for him."

  Nessa and Blaine had followed them into the stronghold. He directed a glance at Blaine. "Take Jacob to see the pigeons."

  Jacob's hand went immediately to Ella's. "You'll come get me?"

  "As soon as I can."

  She leaned down, gave him a hug before Blaine led him away.

  "Take over here," Saul told DeAngelo, the edge in voice saying, and so it begins, trusting another woman.

  Josiah's hand dropped to the long pistol in the holster at his waist, delivering his own message. Careful, amigo.

  They entered into a stairwell Ella hadn't been shown on their wedding day. Went up a flight of stairs to a section of the stronghold that also served as a dormitory.

  A soldier sat next to an open doorway midway down the hall. He slipped the knife he'd been tossing from hand to hand into its sheath and stood. "Nothing to report. He hasn't moved. Hasn't made a sound."

  Josiah acknowledged him with a nod then went into the room, taking up a position on the opposite side of the bed so he could watch Ella work. The prisoner looked closer to death today than he had the night before, though someone, probably DeAngelo, had stripped him out of the blood-encrusted clothing and cleaned him up, splinted his fingers, bound his ribs and put casts on his legs.

  Ella made a sound of horror at seeing the damage and evidence of torture in the lack of fingernails. "How long has he been like this?"

  "I don't know. He was brought into the warren last night."

  The same joy he'd seen at asking her help sparked in her eyes. "From Rapp's territory?"

  Next to him, Saul shifted subtly, like a man expecting an ambush. His suspicion was nearly enough to scent the air with gunpowder.

  Josiah said, "Rapp pulled him out of Krish's warren and handed him over to me."

  "He's one of your men?"

  "No. A prisoner."

  She bent over the man, took her time giving him a thorough examination. Finally straightened and asked, "Do you want him to live?"

  Truthfully? He didn't care. But for his softhearted wife he would lie. "Yes."

  "He needs a doctor. I'm fairly certain there's pressure building on his brain. It needs to be relieved. Some of the drugs you produce might slow the swelling, but to survive and stand a chance at fully recovering, a hole needs to be drilled into the skull. I don't have that level of skill."

  "Attempt it anyway. I'd prefer that he live, but there won't be any repercussions if he dies. The man this one answers to views him as disposable. I won't hold his death against you or think less of you if you try to help him and fail."

  "No." She pulled the sheet over the naked man. Smoothed it across his chest so it was straight and wrinkle-free. "First do no harm. Those are the words I've tried to live by. I can't attempt it. I won't attempt it, not when I know a doctor talented enough to possibly save this man's life—if he arrives quickly enough. My father can get word to him. Several of the books I saw yesterday hold value to collectors in the city. That would be a reason for him to come out from behind the wall. I'll ask him to bring his case. He'll understand that to get the books, he'll have to provide a service."

  His new wife spoke so passionately, so persuasively. Eyes that were drowning pools of blue filled with pleading.

  "Sending for someone is an invitation to trouble," Saul said. "Why open ourselves to it when we can rain down vengeance on the boy's behalf whether this man lives or not?"

  "True enough. But would it be such a terrible thing to demonstrate that I can be a merciful man?"

  Saul touched the first of the bullets on his bandolier, and then the last. "Mercy in the warrens is often regretted."

  So it was. And Saul's suspicions were insidious, invasive, like dust after a munition's blast.

  Josiah looked at his wife, the woman the apothecary had either ignored or given orders to the few times he'd personally gone through the tunnel and entered the workshop. Was she really Elliot's daughter? And not a servant turned into Merati's spy for the price of forged papers?

  He could find out the truth of her parentage. It might take some time. And in that time, the spy on the bed between them would die, destroying today's pleasure in Ella's memories.

  "Do it," he said. "Send for the doctor."

  The smile she gifted him with poured enough warmth into his chest to beat back suspicion. Dios, she was dangerous.

  "I need ink and paper."

  Saul left after sending a cool glance his way. Returned with writing materials. He stood, stroking the bullets on his bandolier as Ella wrote out her note on the dresser top, leaving Josiah to consider something he hadn't before, what it meant to have a wife who could write something he couldn't read, a wife who might ultimately be more treacherous than Geneva.

  Geneva had only cut the heart from his body and slashed his pride, but Ella, if she was Merati's weapon, she could cost him everything.

  She folded the note and held it out to him. He plucked it from her hand, considered opening and pretending to read, but passed it to Saul, Saul's distrust re-infecting him, or maybe returning him to his senses.

  "Give this to Santiago. Tell him this is meant to go to her father." The oath minister would read it then arrange the meet.

  Saul left. Ella bit her bottom lip and Josiah fought the urge to lean across the prisoner and capture that lip between his teeth.

  Mierda, but he was hot for his wife. Better that he pound into her, drive her from his thoughts.

  Blue eyes met his. "The patient is severely dehydrated. I want to start him on an IV drip. Then I'd like to have him moved to the house, so I can watch him more closely. "

  Josiah hid his smile. The patient. His softhearted wife didn't want to consider the fate of a prisoner.

  "I'll order him moved when you're done." Given the prisoner's condition, he was no threat.

  Josiah personally escorted Ella to the rooms holding medical supplies and drugs. Watched, his admiration and respect for her skills growing, as she tended her patient—a patient who was Merati's spy. He needed to be careful that the desire to bed his wife didn't blur the truth about the man's status.

  Finally she said, "He's ready to be moved."

  "See to it, Nessa," Josiah said, only to have his wife insist on supervising the transfer of the prisoner onto a stretcher and the selection of books to accompany him as payment for the doctor.

  After Nessa and his soldiers departed, Josiah guided Ella to the stairwell that would lead to the flat roof section where the pigeons were kept. The door above them had been left open, allowing light to filter in though it didn't yet reach them.

  His hand settled at the base of her spine as they climbed and he was sorry the dress buttoned in the front. His fingers twitched with the desire to explore soft, silky skin. His cock wanted her here, now, anywhere.

  She was quiet, worried about her patient. And telling himself he meant only to chase that worry away, he halted her on the landing just below the roof.

  Some of her hair had worked loose from the merciless braid. He turned her toward him, caged her by placing a hand against the wall, while the other brushed strands of escaped hair away from her cheek.

  Dios, she was a surprise to him. But was she what she seemed?

  "It pleased me that you tended to my people in the marketplace."

  "I like being useful."

  There was something in her words, in her tone that caused a twinge in his heart. He was tempted to tug the tie from her hair, free the glorious mass so he could grip it, use it to hold her against the wall as he plundered her mouth.

  A blush crept into her face, as if she guessed his thoughts, and helpless against her allure, he leaned in, pressed his lips to hers. He swallowed her soft gasp and followed it back to its source with the thrust of his tongue.

  Everything about her called to him. Unlike Saul, the women in his early years, his mother and the formidable Rosa, had showered him wit
h love, and that love had apparently left him vulnerable despite Geneva's betrayal.

  He swept his hand along Ella's side. Wished that there was no separation in his mind between a wife and a whore.

  Because if there hadn't been, he'd jerk the dress he'd purchased upward. He'd lift her, order her to wrap her legs around his waist.

  He'd thrust into her, taking her against the wall, uncaring of who might enter the stairwell and hear the sounds of pleasure. Fuck, but he burned for her, could barely keep himself from shoving his hand beneath her dress to confirm that she was equally aroused.

  Her hands gripped his shirt front, as if she was afraid of allowing them to drop to the front of his jeans and open his fly. She met his tongue thrust for thrust, raw urgency stripping away the shyness.

  He cupped her breast, felt the stab of her nipple against his palm and the tremble of want that went through her. He'd been a fool not to wake her and carry her to bed when he'd returned from Rapp's warren.

  Mierda. What had he been thinking to deny himself this when he'd wanted her from the first time he'd seen her?

  He hadn't kissed her nearly enough to banish the innocence in her responses, and the thought of being her first, her only lover, increased his desire. With each rub of tongue against tongue, heat surged into his cock. He wanted to lead her into a bedroom, any bedroom.

  He considered it, reluctantly ended the kiss, his sacrifice rewarded by the small sound of protest she made when he lifted his mouth off hers.

  "Rosa will be after us both with a spoon if she's left with a stranger in need of care," he said.

  Her wet, swollen lips mesmerized him, sent a shudder of want straight to his cock.

  "I promised Jacob I'd come for him," she said, and he was able to look upward, into her eyes.

  "I haven't forgotten the promise I gave you in the bedroom, mami."

  The quick dip of her lashes said she hadn't either.

  He kissed her again, a slow, thorough kiss before he forced himself away from her and they exited the stairwell.

  Blaine's eyes lit with amusement at seeing Ella's blush and reddened lips. Jacob's lit with happiness. "Look, Mama. Look, Papa."

  He sat next to the pigeon coop, cradling a baby pigeon in his hands. Ella knelt in front of him while Josiah crouched at her side.

  She cupped her hands beneath Jacob's and Josiah settled his hand against her back, ignoring Blaine's knowing smile.

  "Guess how old he is?" Jacob asked.

  "Twenty days," Ella said.

  "Papa?"

  "I think your mama is probably right."

  Jacob grinned. "She is."

  "Does he have a name?" Ella asked.

  Jacob shook his head. "Blaine said he and Nessa don't name the pigeons because they're not pets. Did you name the pigeons you took care of, Mama?"

  "My favorites, I did. I bet Nessa and Blaine wouldn't mind if you named the pigeons."

  Blaine laughed. "Just don't name too many of them at one time or I'll never remember which bird is which."

  With her thumbs, Ella stroked the bird's wings. "You could start with this baby. What do you want to call him?"

  "Chip."

  Her smile made it impossible for Josiah not to smile.

  "That didn't take long," she said.

  "Chip lived on the street where I used to live."

  "He was your friend?"

  Jacob ducked his head. "He just lived on the street. Sometimes I saw him playing stickball with the other boys and going to the marketplace with his mother."

  Josiah heard the longing in Jacob's voice but his wife was quicker to react to it. "I bet some of your papa's men know how to play stickball."

  "Then maybe I could play with other boys?"

  Ella pushed against Josiah's hand. A day ago, he would have needed the hint, but not today. He reached out, stroked the pigeon in his son's hand. "Of course you can play with other boys."

  Leaning forward, Ella kissed Jacob's forehead. "An injured man is being moved to the house. I need to go tend to him. You'll have to ask your papa if it's okay for you to stay here with the pigeons."

  "We can come back, Mama. We could both help Blaine and Nessa take care of them."

  "Your new mama already has plenty of duties," Josiah said, suspicion creeping in as if Saul had joined them on the roof. Had she known her interest in the pigeons at the marketplace might lead to this, access to the birds so she could send written messages?

  With Blaine's guidance, Ella helped Jacob return the pigeon to its nest. They were closing the door when a young soldier plunged out of the stairwell, panting.

  The teen said, "Hector sent me, Warlord. He said there's some trouble over one of the deliveries."

  Josiah's cock throbbed in protest at the necessity of choosing duty over pleasure. He said to Blaine, "Accompany Ella and Jacob to the house."

  Ella readjusted the satchel on her arm. "I may need to return to the marketplace."

  Suspicion thickened in Josiah's chest. He could deny her, but…

  If Saul were with them, he'd argue that it'd be better to determine whether she could be trusted. And that if she couldn't be trusted, the threat she posed should be eliminated now, for the boy's sake if not Josiah's.

  And, he'd be right. Better sooner than later, when Jacob loved her more than he already did, when Jacob was old enough that her influence could be deadly.

  In their world, loyalty was everything.

  "Blaine, stay at the house. Tell Nessa to stay as well. You're both assigned to Ella and Jacob."

  A final look at his wife and son and Josiah entered the stairwell, the darkness getting more pronounced as he moved farther away from the roof. What if he was not a man who could choose wisely when it came to women?

  He'd trusted Geneva beyond reason, accepted her claim that she wanted the perfect design before exchanging ink. He'd settled for claiming her in a ceremony, believed her when she'd said she needed a night alone before they exchanged vows.

  In the end those were excuses hiding the truth, that the man she'd loved first had returned to her life. She'd snuck away to be with him, and only after they were both dead had Jacob been sent.

  * * * * *

  Chapter 15

  "Mama, can we play cards again?"

  Ella glanced at Jacob, sitting on the floor and running a toy car over his thighs and in a circle around him, his book next to him, along with the deck of cards.

  "Let me finish here."

  His small shoulders slumped as she turned her attention back to the patient, checking the IV line though the stranger showed no indication that he was going to emerge from a coma-like unconsciousness.

  She'd broken away from reading to Jacob and playing cards with him multiple times since they'd returned to the house. She couldn't help herself, though she knew she couldn't do much more for the gravely injured man on the bed.

  She wanted him to live. It felt wrong that part of that want had to do with showing Josiah she was capable, at not having this man's death mar what had become a wonderful day, and at knowing that this man was probably the reason Josiah hadn't made it home on their wedding night.

  Heat blossomed at remembering the kisses in the dress shop, the kisses in the stairwell. I haven't forgotten the promise I gave you in the bedroom.

  She shivered at the memory of that promise.

  I'll make it good for you when the time comes.

  She glanced at Jacob and her heart ached at the loneliness conveyed in his slumped shoulders, the neediness. On the stronghold roof, the longing in his voice and eyes when he was holding the baby pigeon had tugged at her heartstrings, reminded her so much of her own pain growing up.

  She would be different than her mother. She'd get Jacob a small pet and help him take care of it. She'd thought to wait, but with her attention being diverted to the patient, now seemed right, felt right. And surely Josiah wouldn't object to a small pet.

  Straightening away from the prisoner, Ella said, "There's someth
ing I want to get at the marketplace."

  Jacob was on his feet in an instant. "Can I go with you?"

  "Of course you can go. Put your things in your room."

  "What about the cards?"

  "You can keep them in your room from now on."

  His small chest puffed. "I'll put them in the dresser with my book, so nothing will happen to them."

  "Do that. I'll meet you at the front door."

  She went to the master bedroom. Transferred the money that had been in the satchel to a dress pocket before going to the kitchen.

  Blaine sat at a small table, two chair legs in the air and the back touched to the wall, obviously joking and teasing with Rosa and Makayla.

  Makayla's expression closed up. She spun away and left through the back door, causing some of Ella's happiness to slide away.

  "Give her time," Blaine said, plucking an unlit smoke stick from his mouth and dropping it into his shirt pocket.

  Ella said, "Jacob and I are going to the marketplace."

  Blaine sat forward and the chair legs hit the floor with a loud thump. "We'll pick up Nessa outside."

  At the front of the Victorian, Nessa was practicing footwork with a multicolored hackey sack. She flicked it to Blaine, who caught it on his foot, double-tapped it and flicked it back to her.

  Walking backward, Nessa double-tapped the knitted sack and shot it back to him. "Where are we going?"

  He caught the hackey sack on his foot, batted it up to his shoulder then kicked it back to her. "Marketplace."

  She directed a suspicious glance at Ella. "Why?"

  Blaine laughed. "That's above my pay grade."

  Nessa snorted. "Fool."

  "Hey, I just do what I'm told."

  "Right."

  They continued to play. At the doorway into the maze, Nessa triple-tapped the foot sack before sending it to Blaine, who flicked it toward Ella.

  Ella's foot came up, making contact, but the hackey shot away from all of them.

  She blushed at the lack of skill. "You'll get better," Blaine said, retrieving the sack and tossing it to Nessa, who pocketed it.

  "What about me?" Jacob asked.