Wicked Exile (An Exile Novel Book 2)

by K. J. Jackson

  She leaned deeper into the kiss and he pulled back slightly, his breath a whisper on her pulsating lips. “We don’t have to do this—it’s not what I’m paying you for.”

  She scoffed a soft chuckle. “Make no mistake—it’s not what I’m taking your coin for.”

  His lips crashed back onto hers and her fingers slipped around his neck, wanting to touch more of his body, feel the beat of his heart under the pads of her fingertips.

  Her head tilted to the side, her mouth parting to give him full access to her, and he dove forth, his tongue tasting her, devouring her. Just when she thought the blood pounding through her veins couldn’t become more insistent, the kiss spiraled into more heat, sparking a whirlwind that threatened to light ablaze everything around them.

  Too much.

  She yanked her head back, breaking his hold on her and she stumbled two steps backward. “I’m sorry—I can’t start something.” Her head shook, her fingers going to her swollen lips. “I know enough not to play with fire. It’s what got me into this mess in the first place.”

  Evan jumped to his feet, both of his hands lifting, his palms to her. “No apologies from you, Juliet. Ever. I should not have kissed you.”

  “I started it.”

  “And I should have ended it.” He turned to pick up his lawn shirt and pulled it over his head. Grabbing his waistcoat and coat, he bowed his head to her. “I’ll go see to another room posthaste.”

  Silent, her fingers still at her lips, she watched him exit the room.

  For as much as her body wanted to stop him, to drag his shirt back off and run her fingers across his gloriously hard chest, her mind demanded the opposite.

  And her mind ruled with an iron fist.

  { Chapter 6 }

  What in the devil had possessed him to be an idiot and kiss her?

  Evan glanced to his right to study Juliet’s profile. Even on horseback, she managed perfect posture. Shoulders back, her legs folded neatly under her skirts in the sidesaddle, her hands on the reins with ease.

  Her face looked different, though. Softer, more relaxed the further they travelled from London. Like the weight of the world was lifting from her petite shoulders.

  Half a day’s worth of riding and she looked as fresh as when she’d gotten on the horse in Bicester.

  For his part, Evan had been nothing but a reserved gentleman the whole morning. Inquiring into her childhood, what she liked about London, asking about her friends. She had the ability to tell entertaining stories—spirited and funny and exactly how he imagined her entertaining gentlemen at the Den. Which should irk his sensibilities, but didn’t.

  She transfixed him nonetheless.

  For her part, she’d been nothing but the lively, charming lady. Answering each of his inquiries with light, cursory anecdotes and not pressing him when he gave grunting, one- and two-word answers to her questions of him.

  Neither one of them wanted to touch upon what had passed between them the previous night. Searing heat that had no place in either of their lives.

  That clear avoidance didn’t mean he could stop staring at her. Stop envisioning her half naked, her skirts pushed up high on her thighs, his lips dragging down her skin.

  He shifted on the saddle of his horse, pulling his foot from the stirrup and stretching his left leg far out along the flank of his mount. The upcoming village couldn’t come fast enough. They needed to change out the horses and he needed to walk. Separate himself from her for a few minutes before he started fixating on the delicate skin along her neck and thoughts that were unattainable.

  Evan nodded to a woman sweeping the threshold of an outlying cottage of the village and his gaze lifted to Juliet. “When you said you didn’t want to ride in a carriage today and would rather travel on horseback, I was worried about our progress, but you’re a fine rider.”

  She looked upward at the white, fluffy clouds dotting the blue sky. “It was too nice of a day and I loved riding when I was young. Riding with you yesterday reminded me of that.”

  “So you did want to kick me off the horse—I thought as much.”

  She chuckled. “I did, if I must be honest.” Her right hand lifted from the reins and she motioned her hand in a small circle in front of her. “I like to have my space and control my own horse.”

  “You were taught well. That horse hasn’t given ye nary a speck of trouble, and I had my doubts when you picked her from the stable.”

  “She’s a good one.” She leaned forward slightly to pat the neck of her mount. “Though I always did have good rapport with horses. They tend to like me and I tend to like them. My father, for a time, had a very nice stable of horses. Several fine racers. It’s been so long since I’ve ridden, though, I wasn’t sure how I would do.”

  “You appear like you could outlast me.”

  She looked him up and down. “I doubt that. But I still do have half a day left in me, at least enough to get to Birmingham.”

  They slowed the horses to a stop in front of the stable yard positioned at the edge of the town.

  Evan dismounted and then assisted Juliet from her horse. He talked with the stablemaster and moved back to Juliet, watching as two stableboys came out from the barn and led the horses into the barn to change out their saddles onto new mounts. He pointed across the dusty lane to a line of shops. “I can go into the tavern and get you a pot pie or some bread to hold you until this eve? The roads get rougher in the next stretch, so I wouldn’t advise a great deal in your stomach. Or would you like to come inside and see what they have to offer?”

  “Tea would do well.” Her hands smoothed down the front of her wrinkled pelisse. “Maybe a biscuit. Would you mind if I stayed outside? The air is doing wonders for my lungs.”

  He nodded. “I’ll return in a few minutes, don’t wander far.”

  She gave him a look that was half glare, half curiosity. Apparently, she wasn’t accustomed to men worrying about her. Or she didn’t care for the thought that she couldn’t handle her own being. Or possibly she didn’t care for him ordering her about. Most likely the latter.

  Downing a tankard of ale, he peeked out the door of the tavern several times to check on Juliet as he was waiting for the cook to boil water for the tea. She’d taken to walking in a long figure eight on the grassy knoll beside the stables.

  He didn’t know how to speak to women, and he knew even less on taking care of them. What was overbearing. What wasn’t.

  At least Juliet was honest about what she expected out of him. Her stormy blue eyes inevitably told him everything she was thinking. For a woman that lied for a living, her eyes gave away the truth of her mind, if one only cared enough to look closely.

  Still, he couldn’t squelch the urge to check on her to make certain she was fine.

  With her tea in his left hand and her biscuit in his right, he dashed across the lane and interrupted her path before she could trek up the small hill again.

  He handed her the tea and she grabbed the cup with both hands, blowing on the steaming liquid. She flicked her forehead to his other hand. “A biscuit?”

  He held up the biscuit wrapped in a small square handkerchief. “I’m told the best in the valley. But it looks puny in my opinion.”

  She shrugged. “Must be so rich it doesn’t need size.”

  His gaze centered on her, his head tilting to the side. Why was it that so much of what she said made him wonder if she was talking about the matter at hand, or another matter entirely?

  Sex. The lewd thoughts that hit him far too often when he looked at her, refusing to leave his cock in peace, made every word she uttered sound carnal.

  “You don’t really believe that, do you? Size matters on most of the more important things in life.”

  She looked at him blankly for a long silent moment and then her eyes opened wide. Her mouth parted and for a dreaded second, he didn’t know what would roll off her tongue.

  Laughter.

  Boisterous laughter. Laughter that didn’t
stop even as she spoke. “I wasn’t thinking that at all. It didn’t even occur to me. But truly, Evan, you are so right. Rich will only get you so far…inside.”

  Her words gave him leave to open his own mouth and laugh. A gut-twisting laugh that overtook hers.

  “What is so funny, cousin?”

  Blast. Evan spun around at the sound and found three of his cousins pulling at the reins of their horses as they stopped in the roadway. He forced an easy smile to stay locked on his face. “Duncan, Angus, Carson, ye scabby bums, what are ye doing here?”

  All three men dismounted and gathered into a wall. A wall of curious eyes shifting between him and Juliet.

  That seemed right. He doubted any of them had ever seen him smile in the presence of a woman.

  He looked to Juliet. Laughter still played about her eyes as she studied his cousins with her own curiosity. What should be three imposing young Scotsmen with girth and height only piqued her interest. “Juliet, I present to you three of the finest men the Docherty stock has ever produced, Duncan, Angus, and Carson Docherty. Three of my cousins.”

  Shifting his feet along the grass, Evan aligned himself awkwardly next to her. “This is Miss Juliet Thomson, my betrothed.”

  He had to applaud Duncan—Carson and Angus both let their jaws drop at his announcement, shock rolling across their features. Only Duncan managed to keep his jaw clamped into place, though his look shifted to Juliet, assessing her even more thoroughly than he had a moment ago.

  She gave the three men a blinding smile. “It is such a pleasure to meet each one of you.”

  “A lass that has finally cut through the demeanor of our most surly cousin is a sorceress of the best kind.” Duncan bowed to her. “The honor is all ours, Miss Thomson.”

  He straightened and looked to Evan. “I didnae ken ye went south in search for a bride, Ev.”

  Blazes. Questions. Even if they weren’t direct questions.

  He grumbled a smile at Duncan. “Aye. I didnae ken I was in search of one myself. Juliet just…happened.”

  “How did she ‘just happen?’” Carson asked.

  “Well…” Evan paused, his mind a blank. He knew full well that he went to London to fetch a fake bride, but he couldn’t exactly tell his cousins that. Jasper was the only other soul that knew. So how did they meet? She wasn’t at the brothel she was supposed to be at, so Jasper dragged him to the countryside to fetch her? That wasn’t a story about to be told.

  Panic started to take a hold of him at how ill-equipped he was to answer any detailed questions. Apparently just announcing a fiancée wasn’t enough information for his idiot cousins.

  Juliet shifted her tea into her right hand and slipped her left arm along his lower back, leaning slightly into him. “We met by happenstance. Evan was passing through at an estate of a mutual friend of ours where I was staying. We were introduced in the study, where he had been standing, staring down at a map of the area. He pointed to a rocky outcropping noted on the map and told me it looked like my profile.”

  Duncan’s forehead scrunched. “Did it?”

  “It did, actually.” She nodded, a mischievous look in her eye. “It is also where they dispose of the refuse from the estate, so I wasn’t sure if I should take it as a compliment or not.”

  A roar of laughter shot up from the three cousins.

  “That sounds like our charming Ev,” Duncan said between snorts.

  Her own laughter joined in. “Exactly. Nevertheless, by the time I made it three steps out into the hallway, I knew we were destined to be together. He is, as I’m sure you know, a force unto himself.”

  She tilted her head to rest it contentedly on his upper arm.

  Damn, she was good at this.

  “Love at first sight, then?” Duncan asked.

  She nodded, her temple rubbing along his arm. “It was undeniable, what was between us. And neither of us wanted to waste any time. We are on the way to Whetland Castle so I can meet his grandfather. I am terribly excited, but nervous.”

  Duncan waved his hand. “Aaaah, he’s not the one ye need to be wary of at the castle, lass. The earl is a fine sort.”

  “Aye.” Angus nodded, looking at Evan. “But Ev—what will Gil say? I don’t imagine—”

  “Congratulations.” Duncan cut off Angus and his gaze shifted to Juliet with his head tipped. “A hearty congratulations to the both of ye.”

  “Thank ye, Duncan,” Evan said. “What are the three of you doing here in Birmingham?”

  “We’re on our way down to Lord Feathering’s estate to pick up the latest documents for the breeding agreement that Gil arranged.”

  Gilroy had arranged breeding rights with Lord Feathering? That was new. And completely wrong. Lord Feathering had been trying to pawn off his rams as worthy studs for a long time. But the offspring never took to the hills of Whetland. He needed to get home before more idiocy happened.

  Evan stifled the urge to groan and send his cousins back to Whetland. No telling how deep Gilroy had gotten into it with Lord Feathering. He forced a nod.

  “We’ll be a day or two behind ye back to Whetland—that was the only stop,” Duncan said.

  Evan waved them back onto their horses. “Off with ye, then. We’ll see you at Whetland.”

  “I look forward to getting to know all of you at Whetland.” The enthusiasm in Juliet’s voice would hearten the gloomiest of souls.

  Smiles on all their faces, each of the cousins inclined his head to Juliet before returning to their horses. Besotted.

  Bloody well besotted.

  Juliet didn’t move away from him, her arm clutching tight to his back as they watched his cousins ride out of the village. Silent until they were out of view, and then she took a step away from him, sipping her now cooled tea.

  The grace and intelligence with which she handled his cousins unnerved him. He’d wanted someone like this—grace and intelligence—but the way she slipped in and out of character, in and out of lies, was disconcerting.

  He eyed her. “You do have an imagination about you.”

  She shrugged. “I’m always ready to tell people what they want to hear. That being said, we do need to work on the story of our meeting. I gave them that tidbit, but they will want more.”

  “Aye, we do.”

  “And you need to work on how to lie about it. Not a one of your cousins believed a word you said until I interjected.”

  She was right and there was no use denying it. If the whole of this fake engagement failed to convince his grandfather, it would be his fault, not hers.

  Juliet looked over her shoulder to the road, then took another sip of her tea, her blue eyes centered on him. “Your cousins clearly have affection for you.”

  “Aye. And I for them. We grew up together at Whetland. All the boys running amok. Lots of swords and battles and storming the castle.”

  She smiled. “I can just imagine.”

  “We count on family. That was what I learned in those days.”

  She nodded, the smile fading from her lips. She turned from him slightly, hiding her face with her tea cup.

  “Your biscuit?” He held up the biscuit to her.

  “Thank you.” She took it from him and bit off a corner, staring at him as she chewed. “And not only do they have affection for you, it was how their bodies moved, their eyes watched you.”

  “And how was that?”

  “You’re not only a friend, you’re their leader. They must be pleased you are the heir to the title? I would imagine it is a relief to all those around Whetland to have an earl that they respect and know they can depend upon. Too often I meet men that should have no business inheriting their titles and estates.”

  Evan lifted his shoulders. “I don’t ken if they’re pleased or not, though none have ever said otherwise.”

  “I don’t suppose they would.” Her head shook. “They must be just as anxious as your grandfather to see you married and focusing on the next generation. Yet you’ve said you would no
t marry. Do they know that?”

  Evan stilled. “No, they’re not privy to that knowledge.”

  She nodded, her jaw shifting to the side in thought. “Why is it you won’t marry?”

  His glare shifted to her. “That isn’t information for you, Juliet. And I know what you’re up to. I’m not some London fop you can manipulate to get the answer you seek.”

  Her head snapped back. “I never treated you as such.”

  “You didn’t just now?”

  She took another bite of her biscuit, a half smile lifting her right cheek. “Maybe. But your insistence that you will not marry is a curiosity. You’re heir to the earldom. You have responsibility as such. Is there something amiss with you that you do not want passed onward through the line?”

  He looked directly at her, letting the full glower he knew sent men quaking in their boots shower down onto her. “There is nothing wrong with me. Nothing. This conversation is over, Juliet.”

  Her mouth clamped closed, her lips pulling tight. She wasn’t quaking, but she also didn’t say another word.

  Good enough.

  { Chapter 7 }

  Blast.

  She needed her bonnet.

  And she’d forgotten it in the carriage Evan had rented in Preston after the rain of the day had suspended the joy of riding horses north. Long clouds bursting with downpours had rolled across the land the past days, giving them one day of horses, one day of carriage, one day of horses and today again in a hired carriage.

  She wished the skies would make up their mind.

  The rain had finally ceased early this evening, and she’d been breathing in the earthy smell of the wet ground when she’d stepped out of the carriage in Penrith, not thinking on her wrecked hat.

  Juliet moved across her room at the carriage inn and pulled wide the drapes on the window.

  The other bonnet she’d brought with her on the journey had been left behind with the first carriage stuck in the mud, so now she was hatless. The best she could hope to do was to try and reshape her crushed blue poke bonnet this evening so that it would, at the very least, properly sit on her head again.