Dangerous Exile (An Exile Novel Book 3)

by K. J. Jackson

  His kiss hard, desperate, but giving way to the resignation that this was it. There were no excuses. No sense of searching for penance. He wanted what he wanted.

  And he wanted her.

  Her head went light with the realization, hope for a future with this man finally finding actual roots. Roots that would grow.

  He pulled away slightly, his breath a caress against her face. “Then I admit it. I want—no—I need to be the hero you deserve.”

  She laughed. “Except you don’t. You don’t need to be a hero. You don’t need to be an earl. You just need to be you. The man that made me fall in love with him despite my reservations—my mistrust. The man that held me and pointed out the stars. The man that thought I was worthy of being taught how to fight on my own. The man that knows me, my body, like no one else. The only man that I trust.”

  His lips found hers again as he crushed her body into his once more, but she was having none of it, her hands slipping between them, fast with the fall front of his trousers and yanking the lawn shirt off his torso.

  A growl shook his chest that she’d dared to break their kiss for even a second. A growl that was soothed the moment she wrapped one leg around his waist, then the other, lifting herself onto him.

  The bed had its place, but this wasn’t it. This was carnal, the need for him to be inside of her crushing.

  She ground her folds against him, his swollen cock already long and hard for her, just like she liked him. Her hands clasped around his neck and she pulled up as he lifted her by the waist, setting her directly on his member and thrusting upward.

  The length of him to the hilt in one ragged thrust.

  His mouth dropped to her neck, her chest, his tongue finding new spots to ravage as she arched backward against his hold on her back, her hips writhing.

  She needed this fast and hard and he was always one to satisfy. His raspy chuckle into her skin told her he knew exactly what she wanted.

  His hand slipped from the small of her back to her waist and he lifted her again, her thighs hitching onto his hip bones so she could balance herself.

  Perfect.

  She lifted and dropped, riding him at her own frantic pace until he slipped one hand between them, his thumb sliding into her folds to find her nubbin and increase the friction.

  She yelped, her breath no longer her own, the pressure building harder than it ever had before, deep within her. Upward and another devastating plunge downward. For how hard she stretched backward, he held her stable on him, driving farther into her with each stoke. Until she was splintering, screaming, as she shattered into a thousand shards of light firing through her body.

  Her contractions wrenched him along with her, his body shuddering as the wet heat of him exploded, burying into the depths of her.

  Her body quaking, she fell forward onto him. Her arms draped over his shoulders and her ankles locked behind him as her face nestled into the crook of his neck and shoulder. As she rode the ebbing waves, her fingers spread across his back, reveling in the fluttering of his muscles, the shivers that ran across his skin every time her sex contracted on his cock.

  She wasn’t moving.

  He wasn’t either.

  Their bodies entwined, both of them refusing to let the other go. Neither would move for the chance of breaking the perfection of how their bodies fit together. Their souls.

  Until finally, Talen broke and staggered three steps backward to land in the pink chair, though he refused to let her body leave his, his cock still firmly within her, her breasts still heaving against his chest. She curled her legs up on either side of him, straddling him, not willing to break away either as her left hand moved to splay upon his chest, her right locked firmly around his neck.

  The only motion he made to ease the crushing hold he had on her was for his left hand to drag up her spine, his fingers entwining in her loose hair, dragging through wet strands over and over.

  She let it go on for minutes before she broke the silence, her words into his neck. “You are still worried.”

  His hand stilled in her hair. “How do you know?”

  “You have different silences.” She turned her head slightly to see his profile. “This one, when your hands are playing in my hair, it means you’re silently working a problem you’re worried about.”

  “The men Gilroy hired. Your father.” He said it simply, not hiding the truth of what was going on in his mind.

  Her fingers involuntarily curled against his chest. “It is not resolved.”

  “No.”

  She pulled up, finding that unease had creased his brow. “It does not worry me.”

  “How?”

  “One, you’re worrying about both of those things, and if I’ve learned anything, it’s to trust you when you say you’re going to keep me safe.”

  Her forefinger and middle finger tapped on his chest as she locked her eyes with his. “Two, the only happiness I’ve had in the last four years has been when I am with you. It is the only place in the world that I trust. And I’m willing to gamble anything on that. Blindly, going into it with nothing but reckless trust that you won’t hurt me. Always protect me. Maybe that’s idiotic. Maybe that’s the naivest thought in the word for me to have after the men that I have suffered under. Maybe I should be sailing off to a forlorn island to hide and live in a solitary cottage with nothing but a dog and a cat and cow for the rest of my life.”

  His bottom lip jutted up. “An island like that sounds somewhat idealistic.”

  “It’s not. It’s not, because you’re not in it. I don’t want that. I want you, Talen. Always. And I will fight for that.”

  “You don’t have to fight, you don’t have to gamble anything, Ness.” His right hand slid along the side of her head, burying deep into her wet hair. “You have me. I love you. And I need you to want this with me. Want a future with me. Want children. Want a life we decide upon together.”

  She nodded, a smile cutting across her face so hard it hurt her cheeks. “That—that I can do.”

  He pointed north. “The last day’s ride to the border? If your arm is up for it, we will take horses and forget about the damned carriage and the damned muddy roads. Hell—even if you’re not up for it I’ll drag you onto my lap and change out the horse every hour to get you up there.”

  Her right hand tightened around his neck, her eyebrows lifting. “We leave at first light and you can be mine by nightfall?”

  “As long as there is a willing blacksmith, or farmer, or clergyman, aye. And you can be mine.” His face suddenly went serious. “But I jest—we only go if you have the energy.”

  “For you? Nothing could hold me back.”

  He smiled at her, one of his rare smiles that made heat pool in her chest, spreading out to every limb.

  The rasp in his voice vibrated with pride, with intention. “I always knew you had a warrior’s spirit.”

  She chuckled. “Thank you for showing it to me.”

  “Thank you for letting me find it.”

  She nuzzled her face into his chest, utterly content that he was her true place in the world. Finally found, finally secure.

  Finally hers.

  { Epilogue }

  It had to be neutral territory.

  Neutral, where someone could hold him back from killing the bastard.

  Thank the devil Juliet married a hulking man.

  Evan Docherty clamped his hand on Talen’s shoulder, stilling him from charging at the wretched old goat.

  Standing next to the wooden bench where Talen sat in the front drawing room of Whetland Castle, Evan, the future Earl of Whetland, was a massive, imposing force with a brutal grip. A grip that held Talen in place, reminding him of what was at stake.

  How Juliet had ever fallen in love with the man, he couldn’t guess.

  Yet he could.

  In the week that they’d been at Whetland Castle, it was quite clear why Juliet fell in love with Evan. The man’s every thought was directed at his wife. From t
he constant hand he had on the small of her back, to the look in his eyes when she was talking to him, to the way he’d snarled at Talen when Juliet had first introduced them.

  Evan didn’t want any other man even looking at his wife and he was more than willing to crush anyone that glanced at her a little too long.

  It was a good thing that Talen and Juliet had only ever been friends, nothing more. It was his saving grace and helpful, for Talen needed Juliet and her husband to help set this last piece of the puzzle right.

  Talen hadn’t come to Whetland thinking he’d like Evan—the man had let his brother, Gilroy, torture Ness for years without interference. But somehow, Talen had found himself warming to the man.

  It helped tremendously that the very first thing Evan had done when they had arrived was to pick up Ness in a bear hug and apologize profusely—grovel, even. Over and over. It was clear the torture he’d put upon himself for not knowing what Gilroy was doing to Ness. To being blind to it.

  Despite himself, Talen had to appreciate the code of honor Evan lived by. Loyalty was everything to the man. And that his loyalty lie unequivocally with Juliet had to be respected.

  Juliet got what she always deserved. A man that would love her wholly and fully.

  For that alone, Talen had to like Evan.

  But in these seconds, Evan was infuriating him. Talen should be strangling Baron Gundall at the moment, his fingers crushing into Ness’s father’s throat, sending him to the floor, eking the life out of him slowly, so he could recall all of the horrid transgressions played against Ness and her mother. So he could beg for forgiveness. Pray for heaven.

  When everyone already knew that only hell awaited the monster.

  Talen expunged the murder scene from his mind with a long, silent exhale. He’d sworn to Evan that he would do Ness’s father no harm. Not in front of the ladies, at least.

  Evan knew well enough that Talen’s promise would expire in due time. Possibly days. Or hours. Or minutes if Talen was lucky and Lord Gundall set one foot out of line or gave Ness even a glance of hostility.

  He could be done with the bastard here and now.

  Silence.

  Silence permeated the cold room—a sparsely furnished space with cold stone walls. Only the worst rotters were brought in here to this drawing room. Most of the rooms in the rest of the castle had plush furniture, wall hangings, anything to make the castle warm and comfortable with bright fires always burning in the common rooms.

  Not so this drawing room. It was colder in here than outside. No fire. Only hard chairs and the bench. A sure message to Ness’s father that he wouldn’t be staying long.

  The silence intensified.

  Talen also made the mistake of swearing he would be silent. He made that promise to his wife.

  Another promise he didn’t think he could keep for any length of time.

  But that was the thing about promises—they could be measured in seconds and be fulfilled.

  His wife pulled tighter on the shawl about her shoulders and Talen’s look flickered to her. Ness had purposely sat on the chair closest to where her father was seated. Talen had wanted her by his side on the bench, but she had insisted on sitting apart. She wanted to face her father on her own terms, not skulking and cowering under Talen’s arm.

  Begrudgingly, he’d agreed.

  Begrudgingly, he’d been proud of her. He knew how sitting there, staring at her father terrorized her, even if she didn’t show it.

  But she was strong now. Strong enough to not let him bully her. Not let him chisel away even a speck of the courage she now possessed.

  He’d let it be, but that had left Talen alone on the bench with Evan hulking over the side of him, as Juliet’s husband hadn’t bothered to sit. He knew the baron wasn’t going to be here long.

  Talen’s hawk eyes studied Lord Gundall. One little motion. That was all he needed from the bastard. One pinky raised toward Ness and Talen could spring, be damned Evan’s iron clamp on his shoulder.

  “But, but…” Lord Gundall’s face twisted, red splotching his pasty skin from his balding head to his jowly neck. He’d just been told of his daughter’s marriage.

  “But nothing,” Ness stated plainly with no emotion. “I have made a fine match without your interference. I am happy. My husband is happy. You are owed nothing from us.” Her eyes narrowed at her father. “Nothing. We offer you exactly what you gave me in life. Nothing.”

  The red splotches expanded, spittle gathering at the corners of the baron’s mouth, his top lip snarling as his forefinger jabbed about the room. “I will tear this marriage apart one way or another for this betrayal. You’ll see. You’ll all see and rot in the consequences.”

  Ness very simply shook her head. “You will do no such thing. Talen and I are married and you can no longer touch me, Father. In fact, you will never see me again, nor will you attempt to intervene in our lives in any way.”

  “We’ll see about that, you ungrateful little wench.” His clammy hands folded into fists. “You’re just like your mother—you were worthless from the first and you belong in the same wretched hole I flung her into.”

  Too far.

  Sensing him coiling, Evan’s hold on Talen tightened, pushing him down. That’s why the bugger had stood. He needed leverage.

  Juliet smoothly jumped to her feet and moved to the tea on the low table in front of Talen. Her eyes not lifting to Talen, she poured a cup of tea and turned back to Lord Gundall, handing him the cup as she sat on the chair directly to the man’s right side. Her eyes were locked solely on Ness’s father.

  Talen hid a smirk to himself. It always was a pleasure watching Juliet work her magic. The baron had no idea what was about to hit him.

  “Truly, Lord Gundall, I do not imagine you would want to make an enemy of not only your son-in-law, but my husband as well?” Her voice soft as a kitten, Juliet’s eyebrows arched slightly, as though she was asking a small child if he stole an extra sweet from the kitchens. “It is my understanding that the Whetland family and the past men in your line have been allies in certain business ventures for decades, almost a century. No?”

  The fire petered out from Lord Gundall’s eyes and he nodded, though his look remained wary as he stared at Juliet. “That is so.”

  She nodded, the sweetest smile on her face. “I would hate to see any future opportunities be jeopardized by a sour response at this juncture.”

  “Juncture?” Lord Gundall’s voice lifted in ire, his forefinger flinging out to Talen. “That man stole my daughter from me—my property.”

  “Come now.” Juliet drew his attention back to her, her voice even softer. “I think that after the death of Gilroy, if Ness was anyone’s property, she wasn’t yours. She would have become the Earl of Whetland’s property—his responsibility. Do you not think that would have been the order of things? I thought it was, but maybe you know something I do not?” She batted her eyelashes a little too long.

  Lord Gundall’s head snapped back. “I guess…”

  “And the earl, my husband’s grandfather”—she motioned to Evan—“whole-heartedly approves of Ness’s union with Mr. Blackstone, especially since he’s been restored to his rightful place as the Earl of Washburn. In fact, Lord Whetland was just telling me during tea this morning how much he enjoys Mr. Blackstone’s company.”

  The baron heaved a sigh. “But I—I get nothing from the union.”

  “Nor will you.” Talen spat out, his words venom. He’d stayed quiet long enough. “Ever. Never. If one hair on Ness’s head is put out of place, if the slightest scratch appears on her arm, if she so much as flinches because someone breathes the wrong way upon her, I will destroy whoever caused those mishaps without a second thought.”

  Evan’s hold disappeared from his shoulder and Talen stood, moving around the table and leaning over his father-in-law, his glare slicing him in two. “I will destroy them with a healthy dose of torture along the way. And I do not blink twice at blood or screams for merc
y. Are we clear?”

  The baron’s mouth slackened, agape for a long moment, and then he nodded.

  Juliet slipped the teacup from his hand.

  “It is good that we are all in accordance on this.” Talen stood straight, motioning to the open doorway. “You may leave now.”

  “But I—I just arrived.”

  “And now you are leaving. Your horses and carriage have been waiting since the moment you alighted.”

  With a huff, Lord Gundall scrambled to his feet, his attempt to avoid bumping into Talen not successful. Talen’s lips twisted into a snarl at him and the man scurried out of the drawing room and to the front door of Whetland.

  Talen and Evan stalked him out.

  Evan slammed the front door closed before the baron even cleared the doorway.

  Talen exhaled a long breath, satisfied at his own restraint at not killing the miserable rat. “Good riddance to the bastard. Though I don’t know that I won’t be seeing him again. There will always be another chance to kill him, I guess.”

  Evan’s left eyebrow lifted. “You think he’ll come back begging?”

  “Most likely, from what Ness has said. No morals, no pride that man. Only aware of his own needs. But if I have to buy him off with some pitted, rock-strewn swath of land to be rid of him, I’ll do it.”

  Evan turned away from the door. “Why give him the satisfaction?”

  “Because I don’t care about him.” Talen glanced at Evan as they started a slow stroll back to the drawing room. “I don’t care about the land. If it keeps the wretch content and out of our lives until he withers away and dies, it’s but a small price to pay for what I gain.”

  A half smile lifted Evan’s cheek. “Ness?”

  “Aye. She is worth it.”

  Evan nodded, but then his feet stopped before they reached the drawing room. “I received other news.”

  “And?” Talen paused, turning to him.

  “The men Gilroy had sent after Ness. They’ve been found. Your man in London—Declan—confirmed it and I verified they were the same men that Gilroy had used in the past to do his dirty work.”