Ian punched Heeler. Harder. More. His fists flew into a blur and made raw meat of the other man’s face. His lip split, and Ian’s garnet ring cut his temple. Blood ran down his face like thin ribbons. He tried to fight back, but Ian gave him no quarter.
Eventually, Heeler was a writhing lump of man on the ground. Ian stood above. His chest heaved on heavy pants. His hands were still fists at his hips. He kept his eyes narrowed on the other man, as if watching—or hoping—for another attack. It didn’t come.
Heeler was a defeated, lost man.
Out of nowhere, three of Fletcher’s men arrived. Her screams had likely drawn them. “Thank God. Can you help us with cleanup?”
“Of course, Miss Vale. Mr. Fletcher told us to help you however you like.”
She said nothing in response because otherwise she’d cry. Too much. All of this was too much at once. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Why did you have to go this route, Patricia? I’d have helped you if I could.”
“You don’t understand.” Patricia was curled onto her side, one arm over her stomach, but she pushed up to a seated position. Her shoulders were a downward slump that rivaled the droop of a sunflower without water. “In honesty, it had little to do with you.”
Lottie blew out an exasperated breath that sent the hair around her face bouncing. “Then what did it have to do with?”
“Henrietta.”
“You leave my sister out of this,” Ian growled. He was still visibly agitated in his harsh breaths and tense muscles. When she set a comforting hand on his arm, she found pure, hard muscle bunched tight. “You’re not fit to say her name.”
“Of course I’m not. I never have been. You’ve no idea what it’s like to be almost equal with someone and completely not at the same time. We were the same age, the same sort of pretty, had the same sort of friends. But just because she was a bit of the gentry, she got away with everything.” Patricia’s eyes blazed. “She got away with marrying my brother! And them’s none that should have sanctioned that. But they did.”
“I’ve met Miss Heald.” A bit of wry humor turned Lottie’s mouth into a smile, though it seemed nearly absurd considering the situation. “Only a handful of times, of course, but do you know what? I could hazard a guess why Miss Heald could get away with everything you couldn’t.”
“Could you now?” Patricia spat.
“Indeed. And it has nothing to do with her being gentry. In fact...she’s nice. That’s all. She’s nice and you’re not. I hope you enjoy thinking about that in the brig.”
Lottie waved in Fletcher’s assistants. Two of them hitched Heeler by the armpits. His head lolled. Completely out of it. Patricia screeched and tried to fight the third, but the burly man with cauliflower ears threw her over his shoulder.
They were carted away with surprising alacrity.
Then Lottie was alone. With Ian.
Alone with Ian, her love for him, and her fear. What an awful mess she’d made.
When he looked at her, she knew. She knew she’d do absolutely anything in her power to fix it no matter what.
She thought she might cast up her accounts from the excitement of the previous moments combined with her nerves.
This was no time for flagging courage.
Ian found it to be rather handy to have compatriots in less-than-savory circumstances. After only a couple brief words of assurance that they’d have the culprits on a boat to Australia, Fletcher’s hired men carted them off.
Leaving Ian alone with Lottie, who looked up at him as if he’d hung the sun, moon and stars in the heavens.
Naturally, he liked the feeling. “Let’s get you home.”
“I don’t want to go home.”
“Sometimes we don’t always get what we want.” He knew that one completely. Invariably.
Her mouth tweaked up at the corners. “Come to think of it, yes. Let’s go home.”
He got her bundled into the carriage in less time than he might have expected, and then home again. The whole way there, he sat on the bench across from her and watched her watching him. They existed above the moment. Exhaustion sucked at his soul and yet he was refreshed and energized for having her to look upon.
He was an idiot. He pressed his hands flat against his thighs to withstand the urge to gather her close.
When they pulled up to the curb before her house, weariness had him nearly lethargic. “You’ll understand if I don’t see you up.”
In the darkness of the carriage, her eyes were wide, but he sensed a determined cant to her eyebrows that didn’t bode well for him. “I do not. Please. Come upstairs.”
“No.”
Never in a million years could he have guessed her reaction. She sank into the space between them, coming to her knees. With her fingers laced together in a supplicant’s position, she put her hands on his thighs. “Please. Come up. I beg of you.”
“Lottie...” He wasn’t sure why he warned her. Perhaps he warned her against getting his hopes up. She was damaged. Broken. He’d once thought their pieces fit together, but that was before she’d crushed new parts of him. “Don’t embarrass yourself.”
“I shall.” She spoke with a determined resoluteness. “I’ll embarrass myself every moment of every day until you listen to me.”
He was shaking his head. There was no way...
And yet he then nodded. Almost without thinking it through. “Get off your knees. I’ll come.”
She marched him right through the front door, which he hadn’t expected. But then, that was Lottie. Flaunting the expectations of everyone around her. The footman who’d been nodding off at his post seemed startled as he watched them go up, and yet he raised no alarm. No hue and cry.
When she stopped on the first floor and advanced down a hallway, Ian could pretty much only follow behind. She held him by the hand as she knocked on a door and swiftly opened it. “Mama?”
“What? Yes?” The older woman sat upright in bed, though she was partially hidden by the mound of blankets that fluffed up around her. “Lottie? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I only wished to tell you something.”
Lady Vale wiped delicately at her eyes. “Yes, then?”
“I want to apologize, actually.” She pulled Ian closer to the bed. Her fingers were cold and chilled in his. “I’ve held you responsible for your illness, in a way. Part of me thought that with our family’s history, you never should have had me. It’s painful sometimes.”
“Oh,” her mother said on a soft whisper. The shimmer caught by the moonlight coming through the window started in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks as tears. “I’m so sorry.”
“No, that’s what I mean.” She leaned down to hug her mama. “I thank you. If you hadn’t risked it, if you hadn’t endangered your own health, I wouldn’t exist. If I didn’t exist, I wouldn’t love. I love you. And...” She trailed off, looking up at Ian. “I love Ian.”
“I knew that, you silly goose,” Lady Vale said. She sniffled tears away, but she smiled as well. “How could you not? I told you the first time you brought him home that he was different.”
Lottie nodded. “He is. He’s very different.”
Ian shook his head, but somehow his hands rose to cup Lottie’s delicate, beautifully shaped face. “Lottie. Don’t. It’s unfair.”
Her throat worked on a swallow. “Wait. Don’t...don’t decide yet.” She leaned down to kiss her mama’s pliable cheek. “Sleep now, yes? I’m sorry I woke you.”
Lady Vale shook her head. “It was worth it.”
Lottie pulled him back out of the room, then up the stairs. She first lit the lamp by the door of her room. The one on the desk went next. She circled the room like a silent ghost, lighting every lamp and candle she had around, until they all blazed like sunlight and firelight and the stars all mixed together.
She stood in the center of the room, near the chaise and bookshelves. Her fingers shook before she folded them together and faced Ian with a new resoluteness to her mout
h.
He shouldn’t be there. He should have left. There wasn’t anything new that could be said because her I love you wouldn’t count if it were only backed by fear. He couldn’t love her so strongly while still being alone.
If she were still afraid, it would do no good.
Of course, he was all talk, wasn’t he? It’s not like he was going anywhere. He waited.
He had the feeling he might always be willing to wait for her. “Enough lights?”
“I wanted them all for a reason.”
“Do tell.”
The color in her cheeks was hectic and pink. Her wide eyes glimmered with an ocean of emotion. “So I can burn away the dark from between us.”
“Pretty words.” He folded his arms over his chest. Mostly trying to hold himself back from already reaching for her. “Pretty words don’t make a future.”
A tear glimmered on her bottom lashes. “Even now, you’re too good for me. I wanted to be right for you. I still do. I always will.”
“I don’t understand what you mean.”
The tear broke away and skated over her cheek. “I want a future. That comes first.” Tendons pulled tight in her throat. “I’m not sure I always believed that. But I do now. Because of you. I want a future. Something good. To run my school and have happiness.”
“Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?”
She shook her head and stepped closer to him. Near enough that the scent of lilacs rose from her skin. She looked up at him through her lashes. Tears ran down her pretty face completely unchecked. “No. I was marking time. I didn’t think I deserved anything. Not when Mama had been robbed.”
“You deserve everything good and right in the world.” Christ, he couldn’t stand seeing those tears fall. He brushed them away with his thumbs first, then his lips, tasting salt and love together. “You’re a small miracle in your every breath.”
“Jesus,” she said on a harsh sob. “You’re so good, even at a moment like this. God, let me apologize. Let me tell you how ridiculously sorry I am. I came so close to ruining everything beautiful between us. You’ve shown me that I can be centered. You center me.”
He curled over her with his arms around her shoulders and his chin on the top of her head. She felt right in his arms. “This is our center. Us together. But I have to warn you, Lottie.”
“What?” Her words came out muffled against his shirtfront. “Anything. I’d give you anything. I’d be anything for you.”
“I only want you to be yourself.” His hands closed across her narrow back. “I’ll warn you this once, and then that’s all you get. If you accept this between us...there will be no going back. I’ll never let you free. I’ll chase you to the ends of the earth.”
She shuddered, then craned up on her tiptoes. She covered his jaw with kisses, then his mouth. She was sweetness and strength in one. “I need that. Chase me. Don’t let me go.” Her voice cracked. “Love me.”
Every word loosened the clenched knot inside his soul. This could work. Christ, would it take work of the highest order, and Ian wasn’t stupid. He knew there would be plenty of problems over the years. They’d probably be the sort to have epic fights. But so long as they came back to each other, everything would be worth it in the end.
He framed her face between his hands. Probably he wrenched too tight, but he couldn’t help it. “Say that again,” he said.
“Love me.” Her every thought flickered in her eyes. “Love me like I love you. Love me to the end of the earth. Love me and be with me. A marriage and a life and most of all being together.”
He growled and kissed her deep. There was no softness there. All fire and promises. “I’ll love you until the world ends, Lottie. Most of all...” He kissed her again. “I’m keeping you, goddamn it.”
Epilogue
Five years later
Playing with a baby made Lottie feel calm and composed in a way that nothing else quite resembled. Sitting on a large blanket beneath an apple tree, she held two tiny fists between her own fingers.
“Pussy cat, pussy cat, what did you there? I frightened a little mouse under her chair,” Lottie sang in a cooing voice.
Her reward was a toothless baby grin and a drool-filled giggle. Lottie laughed. “Oh, aren’t you a marvel. You’re going to be a gorgeous and beautiful little heartbreaker. Your daddy is going to have to shoot half the city to keep you safe.”
Sera scooped the infant out of Lottie’s lap. “Don’t say such things. Fletcher is a railroad baron now. Strictly righteous.”
Lottie leaned back on her elbows and turned her face up to the sunshine. “I know. But once your little one there is grown, I plan to tell her all sorts of awful stories.” She waved a finger in warning at Sera. “Not only about Fletcher, either. I have plenty of stories about you.”
Sera shoved her nose up in the air, but quickly smiled down at her small daughter. They’d all gathered at Fletcher’s country estate. He’d bought the biggest and the best, naturally, which made it logical to congregate there for summer happiness.
Further afield in the meadow, Fletcher, Ian and two little boys tumbled about. Lottie shaded her eyes against the bright sun. “Is Fletcher teaching them to wrestle?”
Sera sighed. “It’s not new. In fact, I should probably go break it up before someone cries. It’s liable to be Fletcher. Silly man.”
“Silly man who you worship.”
“That’s so.” Sera headed toward the pile of males with her baby girl on her hip. She was every bit the picture of womanhood.
Ian tossed himself down to the blanket by her side. “Those young heathens are likely to steal the French crown before they’re twenty.”
“You think small,” Lottie scoffed. Across the dark green grass, Fletcher scooped his infant daughter from Sera’s arms. “They’ll own all of Europe, I believe.”
“Do you regret our choices?”
She looked down at the husband she adored. The tree above them dappled shadows across his beautiful eyes. His eyebrows lifted with curiosity. She traced a line over his brow before continuing. “To avoid children? No. I don’t. Do you?”
He snapped off a stem of grass and ran it between his fingers. “There was a period when I might have.”
“When Etta married.”
“We discussed it, remember?” He shrugged, but when he turned his face back up toward her, that mouth she loved so well tweaked up on the left. He bit his bottom lip. “But then I was over it. I’ve you. Not some fantasy dream of a life that I was always told I wanted. Instead I get what makes me happiest with the world.”
“You’re a lucky man.” She leaned down close enough to kiss him in the pretty little glen, beneath a gnarled oak tree.
He kissed her in return, his fingers slipping under the collar at the back of her neck. His touch was cool and comforting and also tinged with fire. “No more than you are a lucky woman.”
She was filled with love for him. It swept over her like easy comfort and soft waves. She combed short dark hair back from his forehead. “That, my love, is entirely true. Fear has no part of me now. Because of you.”
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After a semi-nomadic childhood throughout California, Lorelie Brown spent high school in Orange County before joining the US Army. She’s traveled the world from South Korea to Italy and now lives north of Chicago. She set her Belladonna Ink series in Southern California because she gets enough sleet and snow in her real life. She’s been nominated for a RITA, won a Foreword INDIE bronze and multiple RT Book awards but can only talk about them in third person because she also has imposter syndrome.
Lorelie has three active sons, a shih tzu and a yorkiepoo puppy. The yorkiepoo makes a guest appearance in one of her books. Readers can find out which by checking out LorelieBrown.com. She also spends entirely too much on Twitter and Facebook. For up-to-date information on her books, sign up for her newsletter at http://loreliebrown.com. She’ll send you early information on books,
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Pacific Blue
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Far From Home
Take Me Home
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Waywroth Academy:
Wayward One
Indiscreet Debutante
A Too Suitable Duchess
Others:
Jazz Baby
Catch Me
He’ll protect her with every vicious bone in his body.
Wayward One
© 2013 Lorelie Brown
During her ten years at the prestigious Waywroth Academy, Sera Miller clung to a strict code of propriety to shield herself from rumors that she isn’t an orphan at all. She’s a bastard. Now she wishes she had never allowed her friends to talk her into snooping into the mysterious source of her tuition.
Her benefactor isn’t the unknown father she dreamed of one day meeting, but Fletcher Thomas—underworld tycoon, gambling den owner, and a man so dangerously mesmerizing that he could spark the scandal Sera has worked so hard to avoid.
Fletcher is only two steps away from leaving the life of crime he inherited from his father. First he plans to join an aboveboard railroad consortium, then claim the one thing his ill-gotten gains have kept safe all these years—Sera.
With every wicked caress, Sera fights harder to remember society’s rules and reject the painful memories his touch resurrects. Accepting Fletcher’s love means accepting her past—a risk too great for a woman who has always lived in the shadows. No matter how safe she feels in his arms.
Warning: This book contains a do-gooder heroine, an accidentally charming hero with tendencies toward caveman-itis, inappropriate household décor and fabulous sex against a wall.
An Indiscreet Debutante Page 23