Wicked Exile (An Exile Novel Book 2)

by K. J. Jackson

  “You wouldn’t?”

  “Never. So, tell me.” Juliet patted her knee and then sat back in the chair. “Why do you think that?”

  “It is what he’s said since this babe was lost. The second one. That I am worthless. That I serve no purpose in this house. That I am weak. That I cannot do the one thing women are meant to do. That there is no place for the fragile in his world. That no one would miss me if I were to just disappear.”

  “He said all those things?” Juliet’s jaw dropped slightly. She couldn’t imagine Evan uttering even one of those repulsive words—how was it possible his brother, his own blood, was so hateful? “But you don’t think he would actually kill you?”

  Ness’s amber eyes pinned her with a stare. Fear and death and an aching sadness quivered deep within them. “I don’t want to think it so. But I have not convinced myself yet that he didn’t mean what I’m sure he was threatening.”

  Juliet leaned forward. “He is hurting, I imagine. Just the same as you. Some men…they have no way to control the awful thoughts in their heads, and those thoughts that should never be uttered out loud, are. I am sure that is what has happened and I can see how deeply this has wounded—scared you. But I am here for you. I will help you however I can. Should I talk to Evan?”

  “No.” Her eyes went wide in panic. “No. You mustn’t repeat a word of this.”

  “Then I won’t.” Juliet’s response was immediate and emphatic. She’d never betrayed a confidence before. She wasn’t about to start now.

  “Thank you.” The smallest smile came to Ness’s lips. “I don’t know how or why the fates sent you here, but I will confess, you are the only reason I am still alive.”

  “Oh, Ness, my heart aches for you.” Juliet reached out to grab her leg again. “But you must hold on. I know you are drowning in the darkness and there doesn’t seem to be any hope. There is. I believe every day will get better, bit by bit. It will. And if you can’t believe it, then I will believe it for you.”

  Her bottom lip jutting upward, Ness swallowed hard and then nodded. “I want to believe you. I do.”

  Juliet smiled. “To that end, you have some color in your cheeks. Which is better than yesterday. So today is already a little bit better.”

  A soft chuckle came from Ness’s lips. “I do see.” She pointed to Juliet’s right arm. “Now tell me what is wrong with your arm? I haven’t seen this before.”

  “The bandage?” Juliet looked down at her right arm. She’d had the dressmaker remove the right sleeve on one of the dresses she brought so the wrapping wouldn’t have to fit under a sleeve. She’d then tugged on a long glove she’d modified by removing the hand. The rest of the glove stretched from her wrist upward to keep her arm warm, and it was so much more comfortable.

  Now was not the time to mention Gilroy shooting her with an arrow.

  Juliet shook her head, dismissing the wound. “This—it is nothing. Just a slight accident that happened days ago, but the bandage has been covered under my clothes.”

  Ness’s eyes went to slits as she studied Juliet’s face. “A slight accident with who?”

  “Truly, it is of no concern, Ness. Just an unfortunate slice across my arm that needs to heal with this bulky wad of bandages. The wrapping makes it look harsher than it is.”

  Ness nodded, but then her head stilled and she pinned Juliet with a desperate look. “Be careful around him, Juliet.”

  “Who?”

  “My husband.”

  “What?” Juliet waved her left hand in front of her, her brow furrowed and still trying to dismiss the accident. “Why?”

  Ness’s head shook. “I should have told you earlier. He’s talked about you.”

  Her head snapped back. “He has?”

  “He’s wondered out loud whether you are already with child.”

  “With child? Why would he care?”

  “I don’t know what he plans.”

  Juliet’s chest tightened. “And if I was with child?”

  “I don’t know that he would let it stand. He has said as much.”

  “Not let it stand?” Juliet’s head shook slowly, not quite believing what Ness was telling her. “What exactly did Gilroy say?”

  “That you being pregnant would not do. It would have to end.” Ness leaned forward, her voice in a whisper. “He’s evil, Juliet. He’s never been right, not in all the time I’ve known him. If he says something needs to end. It does. People disappear.”

  “What?” An icy chill ran down Juliet’s spine. “Why did you marry him?”

  “I wasn’t given a choice.”

  Juliet nodded, stiffly leaning back in the chair.

  So many women weren’t given the choice. Ever.

  That had been the one saving grace of leaving her family to become the viscount’s mistress—her father never had the chance to sell her hand off to the highest bidder, which had been a very real possibility for the amount of debt he’d been in.

  A crooked smile cracked Ness’s lips. “I do not want you to leave Whetland, for you have been the only friend I’ve had in the last four years. But I worry for your safety.”

  “As I worry on yours,” Juliet said, and then stood. “I will think on all of this. And I will help you in whatever way I can, I swear it.”

  Ness nodded, picking back up the comb she had set on the bed minutes ago, and started through the rest of the wet snarls in her hair.

  Juliet left the room, her breath held deep in her chest.

  Something was seriously wrong here at Whetland and she meant to find out exactly what it was. Evan hadn’t told her anything of value where his brother was concerned. And the earl had kept his mouth closed on the topic of his grandsons.

  It was time to push for answers.

  { Chapter 17 }

  “Evan—here you are.” Juliet stepped into the billiards room that was directly across from the great hall, closing the door behind her. It was the last place she’d thought to look for him.

  If he hadn’t been with her, he’d been working, his head deep in stacks of papers in the study during the last five days.

  Tightening the sash on her wrapper covering her night rail, she walked into the room, looking at the papers strewn over the green cloth of the billiard table, several balls set on top of stacks of paper. For the late hour, the room was well lit by a multitude of sconces, lamps, and the chandelier above the table.

  In a waistcoat and a lawn shirt with the sleeves rolled up, Evan was hunched over, both hands gripping the edge of the table, his brow furrowed as he stared at a sheet of what looked like numbers.

  An instant smile crossed his face as he looked up at her interruption. “I am here. It was the only place I could find that didn’t have a barrage of cousins coming and going and asking me a thousand questions.”

  “Am I interrupting?”

  He shook his head, standing straight, and he pulled his shoulders back, cracking in place his spine. “You are not an interruption—you are a welcome diversion.”

  She walked around the length of the table, taking in the red rimming his grey eyes. He must have been staring at papers and ledgers since their ride in the morning.

  That was good. The day had already made him weary, so getting answers out of him should be easier. Though she wasn’t about to tell him what Ness had said about Gilroy. Not yet. The one time she had even broached a hint of speaking ill of Gilroy, Evan had snapped at her, slamming closed that vein of conversation.

  She would have to try different tactics, since forthrightness where Gilroy was concerned wasn’t the best option.

  He turned toward her, his hands running along his lower back as he stretched. “If you were looking for me, I hope that means you missed me sneaking into your room?”

  “I did, actually.” She stopped in front of him, her fingertips playing along the smooth of the table’s green felt. “I sat with Ness for a while, and then your grandfather, but I left him an hour ago as he was getting sleepy.”

 
; “I’m sorry, I lost track of all time going through these papers and correspondence after dinner.”

  She glanced across the multitude of stacks of papers on the table. “Gilroy doesn’t help you handle the tasks of the estate?”

  “He is supposed to.” Evan sighed. “But I find sometimes the more work I leave him with, the more work I have to do when I return.”

  “He is not good with managing the estate?”

  Evan shrugged. “He is good at carousing with our associates. Getting soused and making ill-gotten deals. When it comes to the actual terms of agreements, details oftentimes fall through the cracks with him.”

  Her fingers tapped onto one of the sheets of vellum closest to her. “That must be frustrating. It’s all about the details when dealing with numbers.”

  “Aye.” He waved his hand in the air, dismissing the mess in front of him and then motioned to her. “Come, let me look at your arm to make sure it has started healing.”

  She stepped closer to him, untying her wrapper and letting it slip down her bare shoulder before lifting her right upper arm toward him.

  He unknotted the tie of the bandage and started to unwrap the strip of linen. “How does it feel?”

  “Itchy, but I can move my arm now without stabs of pain.”

  He nodded, his stare centered on the flesh he uncovered. The last of the linen free of her arm, the tips of his fingers ran along the long gash in her skin. “It’s not overly scabbed and it doesn’t seem to be building any pus. Always a good sign.”

  Juliet fixed her gaze across the room on the wide rounded stone that curved under the window to make a sill. She didn’t care to even look at the bloody scab across her arm.

  “Whatever will you tell your future husband?”

  Her look swung to him, his face only inches from hers. “What?”

  The right side of his mouth lifted in a grin. “When he sees this scar on your arm and asks you about it, you’ll have to tell him of your fake betrothal.”

  She chuckled. “This will be the least offensive part of my past that my future husband will have to come to terms with.”

  He set in place the edge of the linen and started to rewrap her arm. “You don’t intend to ever lie about your past?”

  She stared at his downward tilted face as his look stayed on her arm. He had a peculiar pull of his lips to the left side whenever he was concentrating on being gentle with her. “Like you, I don’t intend to ever marry, thus negating any need for lying. But no. I won’t lie about it. My life is what it is and it’s who I am.”

  His eyes but not his face lifted to her. “You are the most assured woman I have ever known.”

  “I find I have to be, though I feel as though I am losing myself here at Whetland.”

  “How so?”

  “I find this place lonely. At first, I liked the peace of it. And I like when the cousins are banging about the place. And I like when I am naked in your bed.”

  A carnal smile cut across his face as he tied off the wrapping on her arm.

  “But when it is quiet, as it is tonight, and you are not to be found and Ness is resting, it is a lonely place. Nothing but my breath echoing off the stone walls. I am accustomed to mayhem all around me all the time.”

  “Lonely?” He stood straight but kept his gaze on her. “I suppose it can be.”

  “You feel it too?”

  “I do, at times. I’ve been told that the castle was always bustling with life when my grandfather and grandmother were young. Comings and goings, along with political alliances and intrigue. It was a different age.”

  “I will have to get him to tell me about it, as it sounds like an exciting time.”

  “Or scary. And the end of a way of life. And ever since these northern lands have turned to sheep grazing land, grandfather has kept as many families in the area as he could convince to stay, but so many young people left for better opportunities elsewhere. The clearings that have happened on adjoining lands scared far too many into leaving, even though my grandfather never would have uprooted families that have been on our lands for hundreds of years.”

  “The world changes, whether we want it to or not.” This was the sadness she’d seen in so many men, stability sifting through fingers, the world breaking apart and reordering without any sense of control. She didn’t care to see the shadows of that sadness in Evan’s eyes.

  “Exactly.” He exhaled a long sigh. “So I get to deal with this.” His hand swept out over the papers cluttering the billiard table. “Managing a lonely estate.”

  She looked around her, her eyes pausing on the closed door to the room for a long moment. Her gaze shifted to him. “It is lonely, which makes it so curious, how you would not want a wife—to take away the barrenness of these halls.”

  She moved away from him to the sideboard and picked up the decanter on the far left. Whisky was always on the far left here at Whetland. She poured a glass and turned around to return to him. “I would think the sound of children in these corridors would be so welcome. So why not want that?”

  She pressed the glass into his hand, her eyes, her face open to him, willing him to answer. Staring up at him, she realized how desperate she was to have the honest answer, how much it would mean to her. She squashed down on the thought. She didn’t care to explore the reasons for that at the moment.

  Evan’s eyes narrowed at her as he took a sip of the whisky. “Juliet, drop it. I told you, I’ll not discuss it with you.”

  Her lips pursed for a second and she nodded in acceptance. “Then let us do other things.”

  With practiced ease, her hands lifted, going to the cut of his waistcoat and flipping free the top onyx button, then working downward. Slowly, her wanton eyes on his face the whole time.

  With one last sip of the whisky, he set the tumbler down onto the billiard table and his hands were on her in the next breath. Running up and down the sides of her body as she pushed free his waistcoat.

  She went onto her toes as he leaned down, their lips meeting. Instant flames between them and she had the fleeting curiosity of why that was always the case.

  Something in the way he moved, smelled, talked—that made him water to her tongue. Never enough.

  His waistcoat gone, she pulled upward on his lawn shirt and he broke away for only a second to let her rip it past his head.

  His lips caught hers again and he lifted her, spinning her around and setting her on the edge of the billiard table. He moved his body inward, spreading her legs wide on either side of his thighs.

  Perfect.

  Dragging her lips from his kiss, she trailed her tongue downward along his body. Onto his hard chest, the ridges that ran like cliffs along his abdomen, inward to the top of the swath of hair that disappeared under his trousers.

  His hands moved down her body, then fistful by fistful, dragged her skirts up until her legs were bared to him. He clutched her thighs just above her knees, squeezing the muscles as he ran his hands inward, his thumbs teasing the delicate skin along her inner thighs. Closer. Closer. And then his thumb and forefinger flicked inward, separating her folds and finding her nubbin, the contact of it pulling a gurgled mewl from her throat.

  She flicked free the buttons of his trousers and scooted her bottom back slightly on the billiards table so she could gain angle to him. Her mouth dipped lower on his body as she tugged down his trousers, letting the full length of his member jut free from the cloth.

  Both hands onto his shaft, wrapping it fully, she set her lips to the tip of it.

  He froze, sucking in a wicked breath.

  She angled her head so her eyes could lift to him as she swirled her tongue about the end of his cock.

  The look on his face was pure carnality. His lips ajar, his breath panting, his eyes devouring what she was doing to his member.

  She slipped her tongue down one side of his shaft, then the other. Having primed the full of it with her tongue, she went back to the tip and set her lips around his cock, sucking
it in, inch by inch until he was deep in her throat, her lips at his hilt.

  Drawing away, she danced her tongue back and forth against the hard muscle of it.

  A hiss left his mouth as she sucked him in again.

  Again and again, and his right hand lifted, sinking deep into the hair at the back of her head. Not controlling, just guarding against the possibility of her abandoning him.

  She wasn’t about to. Harder. Faster. She took him in, using her teeth, every tilt of her tongue to draw out the groans from deep in his chest as her right hand clamped onto the base of him, her fingers fondling his ballocks.

  His hips started moving against her, speeding, so close to exploding in her, but then he set a hand on her shoulder, starting to pull out. “Not yet. Not yet.”

  She wouldn’t have it.

  Pulling free of him, she looked up at him, her lips brushing the tip of his cock with every word. “You’re going to let me give this to you.” Her left hand wrapped around to his butt, gripping onto the rounded muscle as she slid his shaft deep into her mouth.

  He was coming like this, and he was going to enjoy it.

  Three long strokes where she extracted everything she could from him and she angled her face, looking up at him. His head had thrown back, agony on his face as he fought the last moments before the inevitable.

  She sucked him in hard, teeth raking, and he shattered, a scream at his lips as the full of his seed filled her mouth. It didn’t stop her from working his shaft, even as his body convulsed, curling down over her, his hips jerking with every extra swipe she made with her tongue.

  His breath heavy, his lungs pressing against the top of her head, he finally pulled himself upright and she released his worn cock from her mouth.

  Still gasping for air, his grip went rock solid on her and he pulled her body toward him. She leaned into his chest, her lips against the heat of his skin.

  Her voice soft, she edged into her question, so desperate to comprehend the darkness he refused to name. “Tell me, Evan. I just want to understand. I don’t know what’s going on here between you and your brother and your sister-in-law and why you refuse to marry.”