Oath

by K. J. Jackson

  So instead of comfort, he had cramped himself into the coach.

  He looked across the coach at Lady Lockston. The plum-colored carriage dress fit her slim body well, a pleasant contrast to her creamy complexion. He couldn’t decide if her hair was red or blond—tendrils competing for dominance in her perfunctory upsweep. Her eyes were interesting—not because of the hazel swirling with blue—because of the canniness about them. The woman looked as if she held the knowledge of a thousand, hard-won lessons in those eyes. Far removed from the bubbling naivety he was accustomed to in so many of the ton’s beauties.

  From what he could discern of Lady Lockston, Fletch had made a fine choice in a wife—if he could get out of his own damn way long enough to realize it.

  Tieran recognized he set Lady Lockston slightly on edge. She had been self-conscious the entire trip, but he had to admire her spirit. Tracking down a wayward husband was not a pleasant endeavor, and Tieran wondered if she had even the slightest notion about what they were to walk into at Wellfork Castle.

  Lord Wellfork was famous for his parties—a constant stream of the ton’s elite visited Wellfork Castle, and it was well known that adherence to the proprieties of London ballrooms was conspicuously absent in the dark and windy corridors.

  One did not go to Wellfork with their spouse. It was, in fact, considered ill form for a husband and wife to accidently appear at Wellfork Castle at the same time.

  The ancient castle—heavy upon an open hill with its fat exterior stones greying, yet still noble—appeared out the carriage window, and Tieran glanced at Lady Lockston. She had grown slightly pale, but her back had gone rigid, spiriting her nerve. She was going to hunt down Fletch—there was no doubt about it.

  Tieran smiled to himself. It was beyond time a fine young lady reined Lockston in.

  Within minutes they were inside, Tieran next to Lady Lockston as they looked down upon the castle’s great hall from the minstrel’s galley. Her eyes scanning the smattering of people helping themselves to breakfast at the far end of the hall, Lady Lockston gave a slight gasp, her gloved hands tightening on the railing. Tieran followed to where her unwavering gaze had landed.

  He spotted Fletch right away. His friend sat at a table of four, laughing his booming roar with his companions. Just to Lockston’s right, Tieran saw the slope of a flawless bosom, the top cut of a black dress just barely concealing nipples. The bosom angled forward, tilting perfectly at Lockston while shaking with mirth.

  Tieran followed the bosom upward.

  Hell.

  Liv.

  Her black hair piled in perfection, her eyelashes were darkened, making her eyes almost smolder even though it was still in the morning hours. Her full lips pulled wide in a genuine smile, still chuckling at whatever had been said. Tieran recognized it—the specific smile that sent sparkle to her eyes. That drew anyone within sight of her inward, wanting to be closer to the brightness.

  And right now, she was drawing his brother-in-law in with full force.

  Blast her.

  Next to Tieran, Lockston’s wife swallowed audibly, almost a gulp. Her hands impossibly tight on the stone railing, she started to sway.

  Best to get her down there and drag Lockston away from Liv before Lady Lockston completely collapsed on him. There were limits to what he wanted to deal with—even if it was for Aunt Penelope. Or a one-time friend and brother-in-law that currently hated him.

  Tieran nudged Lady Lockston into motion, holding out his elbow. “May I accompany you down?” He pointed in Fletch’s general direction.

  Lady Lockston gave him a weak smile, her eyes shining gratefulness.

  They started downward.

  ~~~

  Tieran stood at one of the five enormous and intricately carved sideboards lining the end of Wellfork’s great hall. Filling his cut glass tumbler to the brim, he nodded, only partially listening to Lord Shepton filling his ear about the falling prices on hog commodities.

  If Lord Wellfork was going to set out brandy in the morning in a room with ladies present, then Tieran could only be a willing and proper guest and start imbibing early. The man always did keep exceptional barrels. Besides, Tieran needed a steadying drink after seeing Lockston’s face when his wife appeared.

  He had fully expected Fletch to punch him when he delivered Lady Lockston to his table. Instead, Fletch had dragged his wife out of the great hall, much to the lady’s mortification.

  Tieran just hoped he hadn’t dodged a fist, only to have it land on Lady Lockston.

  He gave a slight shake of his head. Maybe he should have trailed after the pair down the side hallway Fletch dragged his wife into. Tieran had never known Fletch to so much as lift a finger against a woman—or to even have the thought to do so—but he had also never seen Fletch as furious as he had just been.

  Lady Lockston certainly made his friend react in ways Tieran had not thought possible. Which was either a good thing. Or a bad thing. A very bad thing.

  Tieran leaned out past Lord Shepton, debating, looking once more down the empty hallway where the couple had disappeared. Maybe he should follow, just to make sure all was well.

  And if it was, what would he be interrupting? He hid a smile to himself. The corridors in Wellfork Castle were twisty and dark for a reason.

  Lord Shepton pointedly cleared his throat.

  Tieran looked to his new business associate.

  “I asked, Reggard, what you think of the timeline for shipments before the new year?”

  Tieran stared at the man, trying to trace back what Shepton had been speaking of. Hogs? Dropping prices?

  “Well, as I consider it…” Tieran stalled, taking a long sip of his brandy with his brow furrowed as though he was truly contemplating hogs and prices.

  His eye caught sight of Liv over the top of his glass. She still sat at the table Fletch had vacated, chatting animatedly with her remaining table companions.

  Her presence made perfect sense now that Tieran knew Lord Shepton was here. Liv was here for Shepton, to continue whatever game it was she was playing with the man.

  The game, he guessed, was to ruin Shepton, if her actions weeks ago with Lord Fodler were any indication.

  Yet since that night, Tieran had given her a wide berth.

  Regret came swift after he left her at her townhouse. He had been sober enough to save her, and drunk enough to sit next to her. To talk to her. To listen to her voice. To brush against her body.

  He took a healthy swallow from his glass, emptying his tumbler.

  A wide berth indeed. It had been necessity.

  As much as he had been curious as to Liv’s interest in Lord Shepton, he was not curious enough to entangle himself in her snare again.

  Once had been enough. Once had almost destroyed him.

  He glanced at the spittle glistening on Lord Shepton’s chin as he turned to refill his glass. How Liv had not managed to situate herself at Lord Shepton’s table, Tieran could not believe. It would have been easy, and he knew from observing her that Liv was not one to let an easy opportunity flit away. Lord Shepton had a definite lack of acquaintances to chat with here at Wellfork Castle, which was why Tieran had been so quickly cornered by the man.

  Maybe she was playing coy with Lord Shepton at the moment. She had always been good at that. Playing coy. Even if Tieran had never let her get away with it.

  He had never met a woman more in need of a solid man to keep her in line.

  Tieran turned slightly to the tables and watched as Liv nodded at her companions, a full, bright smile filling her face, and then she glanced about the room, only to make eye contact with Tieran.

  Dammit. The last thing he wanted was her knowing he was even looking in her direction. He was here for one thing—to deliver Lady Lockston to her husband—and that did not entail getting involved in another one of Liv’s machinations.

  Her brown eyes flitted away from him, looking to his right, and they instantly turned glassy, almost cold. The sudden change was
chilling—and unnerving.

  Tieran turned, only to see Lady Lockston stomping into the great hall at his right.

  Disheveled, tears streaming, her eyes were frantic as she searched the crowd. Damn Lockston. So the idiot had been an arse to her.

  Tieran was to her in an instant, leaving Lord Shepton by the sideboard without a word.

  It only took a minute to usher Lady Lockston across the great hall and up the far staircase they had descended earlier.

  Spotting a footman near the minstrel’s galley, Tieran left Lady Lockston by the staircase while he stopped the man to request his carriage be brought around. He would be taking Lady Lockston home immediately.

  A blur of dark purple ran past him. Tieran spun around, only to see Lady Lockston sprinting down the stone corridor. As she disappeared around a sharp corner in the hallway, he caught sight of her face, and it was tormented.

  Dumbstruck, Tieran looked from the footman, to the minstrel’s galley, to the now empty hallway.

  “What just happened?” Tieran looked to the footman. “Where is Lady Lockston going?”

  The servant looked just as puzzled. “I do not know, m’lord. I just heard the gasp and then she ran. Mayhap she is sick?”

  Tieran looked down the empty corridor once more, Lady Lockston long since out of view. She didn’t reappear.

  He glanced past the balcony down into the great hall, searching for anything that would spur her to run.

  He froze.

  Just inside the arched stone entrance to the hallway Fletch and Lady Lockston had initially disappeared into, stood Fletch.

  Fletch kissing a dark-haired woman. The woman’s arms wrapped around his neck. A woman in black, with meticulously coifed hair.

  Fletch kissing Liv.

  Kissing her in plain view of his wife.

  “Bloody hell.”

  Tieran flew down the stairs three at a time and was to the far end of the great hall in seconds, fury pulsating in every muscle. He wanted to strangle Liv. Wanted to rip her from Fletch and toss her down the hall. Wanted her to feel just as much pain as he had just seen in Lady Lockston’s face.

  Instead, he settled for Lockston. He yanked Fletch’s arm, wrenching him away from Liv. “Bloody blasted hell, you bastard.”

  Confused, flustered, Fletch twisted his arm free from Tieran’s grasp. “What of you, Reggard?”

  “You just did that.” Tieran pointed to Liv, who had stumbled backward, landing against the wall, her arms going wide, her hands bracing herself against the stone. “In front of your wife.”

  Tieran only afforded her the merest glance, instead, bearing down on Fletch.

  “I what?” Fletch met Tieran’s glare, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. “I was just walking into the hall when…” Fletch’s eyes narrowed, swinging to Liv.

  “You are a blasted fool, Lockston.” His voice thundering, Tieran’s fists ground into his sides. The bastard had always had it too easy. And he was throwing it all away. A chance at happiness. A chance at a real marriage with a woman that obviously adored him. And Fletch didn’t give a damn.

  Tieran took another step, closing the gap between them. “And you are twisted. You cannot have life, so you want to destroy everyone around you. You bloody well did it with me—I lost Rachel, and then you made sure to take everything else from my life—and I was left with no one. No one. And you have everything—friends, family, a wife—and arse that you are you’re throwing it away.”

  Fletch blinked hard, almost stunned.

  Tieran could see him conjuring excuses. Conjuring defense. Explanations Tieran had no time for.

  Tieran shook his head, a snarl curling his lip. “We were friends once, Lockston. No more. You have gone too far. I always thought you would redeem yourself before the end. Rachel always believed that you had that in you. But now your bloody selfishness and petty cravings are ensuring you are to leave this earth a worthless human being.”

  “Shut your vile mouth, Reggard.” Fletch inched toward his brother-in-law, his grey eyes storming.

  “You shut yours, Lockston. Did you not hear me? Do you not realize what you just did? Talia saw you kissing that tart from the balcony, you fool.”

  Fletch paused, and it appeared as though he finally understood exactly what Tieran was telling him. He looked past Tieran up to the far balcony of the great hall.

  “She saw your repulsive display and she ran,” Tieran said, letting the disgust fly freely in his words. “She is the best damn thing that has ever happened to you, Lockston, and you just threw her away.”

  Fletch couldn’t tear his eyes off the empty balcony, his voice still seething. “Why do you even care, Reggard?”

  That gave Tieran sudden pause.

  Why did he care? Why had he almost just ripped one of his best friends in half? Because Fletch was an idiot? He’d been an idiot plenty of times before, and Tieran hadn’t cared. Because he was ruining the spirit of his wife? Tieran liked Lady Lockston, but he didn’t truly know her.

  A warbled breath came from the left.

  Tieran didn’t even want to admit she was still there. Still standing. Still watching them. Liv.

  No. He certainly wasn’t going to entertain the possibility that he cared because it was Liv that Fletch was kissing. No. Hell, no.

  Rachel. He cared because of Rachel. He cared because of his wife. Because he loved his wife. Because he still loved his wife. It was Rachel.

  Tieran bit back a blasphemy, attempting to temper his look at Fletch. “I don’t care. But I do for Rachel. Your sister would not have wanted to see your despicable arse leave the earth in this way.”

  “Rachel’s dead, Reggard,” Fletch said. “So you can leave me the hell alone.”

  “I should leave. It’s what you deserve after the way you dismantled my life after Rachel’s death.” Reggard rounded Fletch, blocking his view of the balcony where Fletch still stared. “I should leave you in the sniveling shell you are determined to rot in.”

  “So leave.” Fletch’s lip curled, the words vicious.

  “I will. Do not worry on that, Lockston. There is nothing I would rather do in this moment.” Tieran unclenched his fists, heaving a sigh. “But unlike you, I loved my wife. So I care about your life because of her. Because she would have demanded it of me.”

  “You know nothing of what I feel for Talia.”

  “No. You’re right. I know nothing because I never would have treated my wife—or any woman—like you just did.” Tieran’s eyes narrowed at Fletch. His voice notched downward. “Do you know, Lockston, that even before your sister, I always believed that if anyone could break the curse, it would be you. But now I am beginning to wonder if the curse is exactly what you are meant for. Had your sister just seen what you did, I think she would think the same.”

  “Bloody well stop throwing my sister in my face, Reggard. She is dead.”

  “So you have forgotten Rachel? What she wanted for you?” Tieran shook his head in disgust. “Damn, Fletch, she believed far too much in you.”

  Fletch shifted on his feet, his mouth twisting. “Yes, well, she always was misguided when it came to the men she loved.”

  A cut to wound him. A cut he had heard, in one form or another, time and again from Fletch.

  Tieran’s chest tightened. He had to remember Fletch loved his sister just as much as Tieran had. If he remembered that one thing, he could take the blow. Fletch had lost Rachel just the same as he had.

  Tieran’s belly clenched as he refused to acknowledge the insult, not allowing so much as a twitch. But he lifted his hand, his finger pointing again at the far balcony. “That woman—Talia. Talia is what Rachel wanted for you. Not this.” Tieran’s look swung to Liv. He hadn’t wanted to look at her, acknowledge her. Her brown eyes were wide, scrutinizing the argument, even as she had tried to make herself small against the stone wall. Tieran looked away. “Not this wretched harlot.”

  “Watch yourself, Reggard,” Fletch said.

  “N
o, you watch yourself, Lockston. You need to make a choice, friend. Life—life with meaning. Or whatever sorry state this is.” Tieran looked to Liv again, his eyes raking over every inch of her body in disgust. He crossed his thick arms over his chest, glaring at Fletch. “Now am I going to have to go after your wife, or are you?”

  Fletch’s mouth dropped opened. For a moment, he fumed. Tieran had pushed far—much too far. But then Fletch abruptly blinked, his lips clamping shut.

  With a shake of his head, Fletch pushed past Tieran, sprinting out of the hallway and across the great hall.

  Tieran watched him, Fletch’s boots clunking on the heavy stones of the great hall. Up the far stairs without pause, Fletch disappeared, the clack of his boots still echoing back along the ancient stone walls.

  The black skirts next to Tieran twitched, moving to the arched doorway.

  No. She was not about to escape this unscathed.

  “Stop.” The word was growled, an order not to be refused.

  The skirts fell still.

  Liv was not blameless in this situation. Not blameless at all. And she was not going to disappear from this hallway without consequence.

  “Whatever it is you think to machinate, it will take far more than a sloppy kiss to break those two.” His eyes still on the far stairs, Tieran spat the words out before turning to her.

  Silence.

  He looked over his shoulder at her. Her arms had crossed atop her belly, her lower lip in an angry pout as her cheeks flamed red.

  “My kisses are not sloppy.”

  “No?”

  Painstakingly, Liv peeled her arms apart and stepped away from the wall. The gold in her brown eyes flickered as she met his look. Her stare didn’t hesitate, didn’t veer.

  She never had shied away from him.

  “No. My kisses work exactly as intended, Tieran. And a man such as yourself could only dream of having mine.”

  “You forget that I have tasted them.”