Wicked Exile (An Exile Novel Book 2)

by K. J. Jackson

  Juliet stopped, looking at her. “Your arm—will you be able to make the ride? There’s not time to reset it and you need to get out of here. But if you cannot, I can try to figure—”

  “Juliet, stop.” Ness grabbed Juliet’s wrist with her right hand as they reached the mail coach. “I will suffer it. I will suffer anything if I am away from this life. Do not worry on it—pain is nothing to me now. I’ll make it to London. I swear it.”

  The sudden fortitude in Ness’s dark golden eye made Juliet pause. Ness had a hidden spine of steel she’d never shown before. Sending her off in the mail coach alone didn’t worry Juliet as much as it had just a moment ago.

  Juliet wrapped her hand around the back of Ness and gently hugged her. “Until I see you again, my friend.”

  “And I you.” Ness pulled back, turned and stepped up into the mail coach, squeezing herself into the last of the four interior seats between a portly gentleman and the side of the coach. Even with the hood hiding most of her face, Juliet saw her grimace as she twisted her body so her broken left arm wouldn’t hit the wall of the coach with every bump.

  Juliet swallowed hard at the pain Ness was about to suffer on the journey.

  But Ness would get to London. And then Blackstone would take over.

  Ness would be fine.

  That was what mattered. Ness would survive.

  As for herself…she would just have to cauterize closed the gaping hole that Evan had set into her chest last night. A wound that had throbbed, agonized with every step the horse had taken away from Whetland.

  There was only one thing to do now. She would cram that wound full with work and work and more work. The Den would need her hand more than ever before, no matter if Hoppler lost Pen or not. Either way, he wouldn’t be fit to run the place for a long time.

  She would move forth, one foot in front of the other, as she always had.

  The mail coach lurched forward and rambled down the incline of the street.

  Juliet exhaled the breath she’d held in the pit of her lungs for the last seven hours. Ness would survive.

  And Juliet would heal the broken shards of her heart.

  It was all she could hope for now.

  { Chapter 28 }

  Never to come back here.

  The rumble of Evan’s voice from the night before echoed in Juliet’s ears. Shifting her cloak from her left arm to her right, she glanced over her shoulder at the coaching inn that serviced the London stagecoach route.

  Fare paid and ready to go. Tomorrow she would travel back to London. For as tempting as the idea was to return to Whetland Castle, for as much as her heart screamed at her to go back and to beg for Evan’s forgiveness, she couldn’t do it.

  No matter what happened between them, Gilroy would always have a hold over Evan. That was proved beyond dispute last night.

  Gilroy would always win. She would always lose.

  She couldn’t suffer through life like that.

  As painful as it was to leave Scotland, she had no choice. Evan would never look at her the same. Never wisp his fingertips across her neck as he once did. Never set his lips to her body, making her want a lifetime of breathing his air.

  The smallest part of her that had dared to hope on a future with him had been beaten into oblivion, where it always should have stayed. It’d been idiocy to let the spark of such hope even catch to flame.

  He’d made his choice. She had as well.

  And there was nothing left to do now but leave.

  Juliet strolled along the incline of the walkway, studying the bricks of the buildings. A city of another age, so many of Edinburgh’s buildings sat hundreds of years old, testament to another time. Tight lanes and walkways, everything busy about her, so very much like London. She worked on recalling all the history she’d heard of the city from clients at the Den—both dastardly or glorious, depending on if she had a Scot or an Englishman sitting in front of her. That was the thing about history—it all depended upon your point of view.

  Her eyes lifted, searching the upcoming buildings for the inn suggested by the stablemaster, as the main coaching inn where the stagecoaches assembled was full. Though it didn’t matter which inn she found, as all she wanted to do was collapse into a room and attempt to not break down in sobs. A bed was all she needed for that. If she was lucky, she’d be asleep in minutes and blissfully delivered from the horrors of the past night.

  She felt the point of steel in her side before she heard the hiss of words in her ear.

  “Where the hell is she?”

  Her feet stopped, her body frozen.

  The blade poked harder into the flesh just below her right rib cage as an arm wrapped around her from behind. “Scream and I gut ye.”

  The arm shoved her into the cramped, dark quarters of an empty alleyway and she twisted, dropping her cloak, trying to escape the arm, the blade.

  No success, but she saw the face of the man that had shoved her into the close.

  Gilroy.

  A raging, seething Gilroy, his pale face splotched with angry red dots. Quick as a snake, he shifted the dagger from her side to her neck, shoving her against the brick wall. “I said, where the hell is she? I know Ness left with you, ye tramp.”

  No.

  No, no, no.

  Evan had told him.

  Her eyes closed, the sting of that fact alone sliced a blade straight through her heart.

  Of course, Evan had told him. Gilroy would always win. She would always lose. Why had she even, for one second, pandered to the thought that Evan’s loyalty would possibly be to her? To the side of saving Ness’s life? To the noble choice?

  “What the hell did you do with my wife, ye whore?” He screamed into her face, his breath a hot mixture of whisky and rot invading her pores.

  Her eyes cracked open to see his wild, mad eyes searching her face, not about to rest on one spot. His irises, twitching, moving. Constantly moving.

  “She’s gone.” Her words came out with the epitome of composure.

  The blade pressed into her neck. “Tell me where she is.”

  “Never.”

  His hand whipped up, grabbing a fistful of her hair by her temple and he yanked her head forward, then slammed it back against the bricks.

  Instant pain. And in the next second, blackness. Her body leaving her.

  ~~~

  Cold, wet—no, not wet—damp under her cheek. Damp and cold stone.

  The instant pain at the back of her head reminded her exactly what happened. Her head smashed into a brick wall. By Gilroy.

  Her breath hitched for a moment, ready to scream, before she caught herself and she exhaled, forcing her breathing to remain even. Still. Eyes closed.

  Juliet listened. A bottle, no, a glass set down onto a table. The heel of a boot scraped against the floor. The wheeze of air into a thin nose.

  Wherever she was, she was with one other person, and she could only assume it was Gilroy.

  But she was still alive. He hadn’t killed her outright. That was a good first step. He thought he could get her to tell him where Ness was.

  Still not going to happen.

  She cracked her eyelids slightly, just enough to see through her lashes. A flicker of one lone candle. Legs. Legs attached to a body sitting by a table where the candle glowed. Nothing on the walls. Just stone. No fire. No window.

  Where in the hell had he brought her?

  Her senses all about her, she checked off her body parts. Head—pain throbbing from the spot where her head hit the wall, but her mind seemed to be in order. Arms, hands—quick flexes of muscles told her all were working. Torso—no pain. Legs—fine. Except—bloody ballocks—what was that around her ankle?

  Half on top of her left boot and half cold on her skin, a wide metal bar. A clamp.

  No.

  She couldn’t be clamped to the floor with a chain. Impossible.

  Her left leg twitched and metal scraped along the floor. Her right leg shifted against the stone unde
rneath her—her dagger was gone from the sheath about her calf.

  Blast. She was chained like a blasted animal and she hadn’t a thing but her nails to bloody the bastard.

  No fighting. No escaping.

  Her only defense was something she excelled at, getting men to talk. Though she seriously doubted any success with Gilroy—he wasn’t a normal man. Addled and far from normal, from everything she’d witnessed.

  But it was her only option.

  She moved her left leg, clanking the metal onto the stone floor just to check that the clamp was attached to a chain. Her leg jerked to a stop. Damn. A short chain.

  She opened her eyes fully.

  Gilroy lifted the glass of what looked to be brandy to his lips, tilting it back and taking a long swig. Staring at her, he thunked the glass onto the table next to the lone sputtering candle as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “The blessed bride awakens.”

  Juliet pushed herself upright, blinking like she’d just woken. Her head swiveled as she looked about the room. She’d been right. No windows, stone walls, a curved stone ceiling, one arched doorway behind her with a thick wooden plank door set in place. An undercroft of some sort. A prison if there ever was one.

  Ness had been right. Gilroy wasn’t about to let his property go without a fight.

  Her gaze swung back to Gilroy as she forced her countenance and her voice as neutral as possible. “Whatever this is, Gilroy, I know you didn’t mean this—Ness, me. I know why you did what you did to Ness. She didn’t give you a child. She had chances—so many chances—and she couldn’t deliver.”

  He blinked hard, his head snapping back and cocking to the side. She hadn’t delivered the screaming and begging that he’d been ready for. Good. And his movements were slow, drunk. Even better.

  The side of his face lifted in a sneer. “Aye. The wench was worthless.”

  Talking about Ness in past terms. Good.

  She nodded, her lips pursing in empathy. “It must be hard knowing the fate of the earldom rests on your shoulders and having a wife that did not fulfill her part of the bargain. You should have been luckier in your choice. It must be so hard.”

  His eyes narrowed at her, his words tepid, as though he was sticking a toe into shark-filled waters. “It is.”

  “I understand.” She sighed, her hand flipping up in the air. “With all the peers I’ve known, I’ve been told, time and again, what a burden it can be—the immense responsibility of securing the future. The pressure of it and all it entails.”

  “The peers you know at your whorehouse in London?”

  Hell no. Evan told him—told him what she was. Her chin dipped down as she stifled her reaction. “Evan told you where I’m from?”

  He shook his head. “He did not. I just know.”

  “Well then, you know I must hear things there that aren’t openly talked about amongst the peerage. It is a great responsibility, taking on a title, and you have willingly sacrificed yourself to that end for your family—not at all a small feat.”

  Gilroy exhaled a long breath. “Evan doesn’t understand that.”

  “Oh, but I think he does, and he appreciates it more than you know. He’s told me so. Does he not tell you that?”

  “No.”

  Her shoulders lifted. “Oh, well, he should.” Her look centered on him. “He did this for you, you realize? I agreed to help him, though I didn’t think it would end with me being chained to a floor.” She tugged at her left foot for emphasis.

  “What do ye mean he did this for me?”

  “He thought it would be better this way. Ness is gone. You can divorce her by abandonment and move on with a new wife. It suits all parties and it doesn’t put blood on your hands.”

  “Ye think I care about blood on my hands?”

  “A new wife might—one that is strong and virile and can give you the heir you’ve always wanted. She might question what happened to your first wife if it looked like foul play was involved. But with abandonment, you are the injured party.” Her hands lifted in excitement and she pointed to him. “A devoted husband left by the woman he loved. You will have your pick of fine women that will be able to give you a child. I have several that I’m already thinking of introducing you to that may make splendid choices.”

  “You think it matters now? A new wife what with you and Evan now married?” He leaned further forward, balancing his forearms on his knees as his words seethed. “He swore he wouldn’t marry ye, but witch that you are, ye trapped him.”

  She set a confused smile to her lips. “But you are the only way forward for the earldom, as I cannot bring forth a child.”

  His eyes opened wide and he almost fell off the chair as his left arm slipped off the top of his thigh. “What did ye say?”

  “I cannot have children. Did Evan not tell you? You were the first person he went to see the night of the wedding—he said he was going to talk to you alone to explain everything. Did he not find you?”

  Gilroy sat back, the chair creaking as a caustic laugh erupted from his mouth. “You’re lying.”

  Her forehead scrunched, her head shaking as she feigned surprise. “Evan did not tell you? But this was all planned. He knew I was taking Ness away. He wants this for you. A new wife. A new future.”

  She chuckled, her eyebrows lifting as an easy smile went to her face. “If I was to concoct an escape, it certainly wouldn’t have involved that seven-hour ride I had with Ness last night. She whined and cried the entire way. I have never known a weaker woman. Evan made it clear to me that you were to never know what happened to her. It would be cleaner for the abandonment cause of the divorce. You are the future of the earldom and he wanted you untainted.”

  His lip snarled. “So Ness is…gone?” His fingers snapped in the air.

  “Yes. You can move on. It’s all Evan has wanted for you.”

  He laughed again, this time not so harsh. Pleased. He believed the lies spewing from her mouth.

  He stood, grabbing the bottle of brandy and taking a swig from it rather than pouring it into the glass. “I apologize about this.” He pointed to the chain attached to her leg holding her to the floor. “If you hadn’t interfered you could have walked away long ago.”

  Her brows arched in true confusion. “Interfered?”

  “In Bicester on your way back from London.”

  The smile froze on her face. “The men who attacked us? That was you?”

  “It was supposed to be Evan they disposed of. They failed.”

  She bit her tongue so hard blood flooded her mouth. Lord Vontmour had never been after her. Never. He was deranged, but he wasn’t a lunatic set for Bedlam like this bastard was.

  She looked up at Gilroy, her eyes wide and adoring as she cracked a flippant smile. “Oh, well, one can never know when hiring brutes. I will say it was rather easy to fend them off. It is so hard to find good men for a job like that.”

  “It is.” His fingers tapped along the neck of the bottle as he stared down at her. “I’ll be back.”

  He turned on his heel and exited the room. Juliet waited for the door to latch closed before she spit onto the floor next to her.

  Again. And again. And again.

  Lies were usually easy off her tongue, but ones like that came with a healthy dose of blood and bile.

  Her shoulders sank, her body curling into herself. For how desperate she’d been to scream at Gilroy, to scratch his eyes out and choke the very life out of him, it’d taken every speck of willpower she had to keep her face smiling, to keep the pandering lies flowing.

  It’d been a gamble, lying to him, and she had no inkling if it’d worked or not.

  And now he was gone and she was still chained to the floor.

  Sometimes one won when gambling. Sometimes one lost.

  She sighed, shaking her head.

  She had a sinking feeling she’d just lost.

  { Chapter 29 }

  “I dinnae ken what wild goat has gotten up yer arse, Ev, b
ut yer swingin’ like one of Boney’s lasses.” His sword high, Duncan pursued him across the rough patches of earth about the practice field to the west of the castle.

  His boot scraping in the dirt and sending up a cloud of dust into the crisp morning air, Evan spun, his sword ready to block Duncan’s next swing.

  Yes, he was still drunk. So yes, slow. But swinging like a French lass? Too far.

  A growl in his throat, he lunged at Duncan, his blow brutally hitting Duncan’s sword and sending sparks flying. One, two, three more blows and Duncan lost three steps, his calves running into a mound of hay.

  Duncan lifted a foot and sent it into Evan’s stomach, gaining a sliver of space between them. Utilizing the hard-won moment, Duncan reset his grip along his sword and swung it in an arc over his head, coming down fast at Evan’s head.

  A quick block, and Evan dodged to the left, leaving Duncan spinning. For as strong as Duncan was, Evan was a touch quicker.

  Any which way it went, Evan never could tell if he won these bouts or if Duncan did.

  It felt good, smashing something after the last two days without Juliet.

  The castle empty of her scent. His bed empty of her throaty laughter. The smile gone from his grandfather’s face.

  He hated her for leaving.

  But damned if he didn’t love her even more for what she’d done.

  She’d chosen the path of right, and she’d done so with steely courage and unwavering determination to the purpose—even after he’d flung that idiotic ultimatum at her.

  He’d never seen Ness injured by his brother’s hand before, but he was beginning to understand that he noticed very little about what was actually happening around him. He should have been the one protecting his sister-in-law. Not forcing Juliet to take action where he failed to do so.

  When he’d finally pulled himself out of the drunken stupor that he’d committed to after Juliet had left, the empty castle had done nothing to assuage his guilt.

  Grandfather had shut the door of the library to visitors, and only Duncan and a few odd cousins still wandered about. Juliet was gone. Ness was gone. But most alarming, Gilroy was gone.