With a growl he swooped both of them up, one under each arm, and he spun them in a circle until their giggles turned into high-pitched shrieks of joy. He stopped suddenly, jumping and then setting them both down on their feet, his hand lingering on the back of Susannah until he was sure she was steady on her feet. “Off to the kitchens, you two—Cook has spent some time making ice cream and she’s wondering where you two are. She needs testers.”
Their squeals reached an even higher pitch and Tarrence grabbed his younger sister’s hand, tugging her faster as they both ran—Susannah’s run was more of a quick waddle—and disappeared down the hallway.
With a wide smile on his face, Des moved into the drawing room, his arms wide. He captured Elle first, his arms wrapping her in a rib-cracking hug as she kissed his cheek. “Apologies—I was down at the stables. You two arrived early.” He set her free and moved to Rune, clamping his hand along Rune’s shoulder.
Rune nodded. “We did—good roads for a change.”
“Come, sit.” Jules motioned to the two dark blue damasked settees that faced each other. “You two must be exhausted after the journey.”
Elle followed Rune as he moved to the settee, her hand unconsciously lifting to settle into the middle of his back. She would never tire of touching him, of reassuring herself that her life wasn’t just a dream.
She sat as Jules did the same across from her, and Rune settled in beside her, stretching his arm to rest along her shoulders as he tucked her into his side.
“It was actually a pleasant journey back to England. This one can fall asleep anywhere.” Rune pointed down, tapping her collarbone with his right forefinger. “In a hammock, on the ground, on my lap. The bigger bed we had put into the Firefox was the most luxury we’ve had in a long time.”
Her hand went onto Rune’s knee. “Except for the room we stayed in at New York—Weston’s family does not do things in an understated way and the house they’re living in on the family complex is a marvel.”
“You stopped in New York?” Jules asked.
“We did. We had gone up the coast to the Carolinas, so it made sense to travel to New York before sailing east. Weston and Laney send their love, of course.”
“How are they getting on?” Des handed Rune a glass of brandy he’d just poured and then sat down next to his wife, pulling his right leg up to rest atop his knee. “Laney writes often and has described all of Wes’s many cousins—it sounds like bedlam.”
Elle chuckled. “It does have that sense about it—we met many of the cousins and there are a few…ah…interesting characters. But they both adore living there amongst all the family. Laney beams when she talks about all of them. And she was quite plump with babe when we visited—they’re both excited to add to their brood. It is quite clear they’ve found their true home.”
“Drat. Well, that doesn’t bode well for visits from them.” Jules frowned, her hand flipping up into the air. “Letters will just have to suffice.”
Little bare feet pitter-pattered along the hallway, getting closer. They definitely took after their father in that regard. In the next moment, the whirlwind of Tarrence and Susannah came bursting into the room and they both shot onto their parents’ laps, landing in a mess of tangled arms and legs.
Tarrence squirmed like a little fish on its side, flipping himself toward Elle and looking at her with huge hazel eyes. Streaks of chocolate lined the edges of his lips. “Auntie Elle, Papa says you are mighty explorers. Are you? I thought you would be bigger and stronger.”
Elle chuckled, leaning forward so she was eye level with him. “I don’t know about mighty, but we are explorers.”
His eyes went even rounder. “What do you find?”
Elle glanced over her shoulder at Rune, then looked to Tarrence while she pointed over her shoulder at her husband. “You should ask your Uncle Rune what we find.”
Tarrence squirmed some more, yanking his legs free from under his sister and off of Des’s lap, then sat upright half on, half off of his mother’s lap. He looked to Rune. “What do you find, sir?”
Rune straightened, placing his drink on the side table. He scooted to the edge of the settee and leaned forward, setting his forearms on his thighs. “We find many things. Pretty jewels. Cracked bowls. Bones. Writings from long, long ago. But on our last adventure we found something very interesting and we brought you and your sister back something very special.”
His eyes aglow, the biggest smile cracked across Tarrence’s face and he started to hop up and down, bouncing on the edge of the settee. “Truly?”
Seeing her brother perk up, Susannah popped her head up from where she had buried it against Des’s chest, and she turned to Rune, suddenly interested in what he was saying. Even at one, she looked exactly like her mother.
Rune chuckled. “Oh, yes.” He reached into his pocket and pulled free two little red silk bags with a ribbon holding the top closed. He stood slightly to hand one to Tarrence and one to Susannah.
Tarrence ripped the ribbon of his open. Susannah tried with little success and finally lifted it up to Des. Des yanked the ribbon free for her.
Both of the children sent chubby fingers into the bags, pulling free ancient gold coins.
Tarrence held his up and the sunlight streaming in from the window hit the gold, making it sparkle. He jumped to his feet, humming and dancing about the room with it, in and out of the rays of sun.
Jules laughed, giving Elle a scolding look. “A bit much for one- and three-year-olds, no? What are they?”
Elle ignored her niece’s look. “Gold coins we excavated from a site in the Yucatán. Mayan, and you can see the thin lines of the sun god etched on them.”
Susannah instantly put the edge of her coin into her mouth. Jules reached over to pull it free, but let her continue to play with it.
“Yes, probably best not to eat them, they are quite old,” Elle said. “And maybe best not to let them lose them, as they may come in handy for them one day. The rest are at the British Museum.”
“The British museum?” Des’s eyebrows lifted. “They didn’t want these two? They do like their collections complete.”
“They do.” Rune grinned. “But they only know about eight of the coins.”
“But there were really how many?”
“Twelve.” Rune shifted backward to lean against the rear of the settee, settling his arm about Elle again. “The other two are with Weston, one for their girl and one for the new babe when it arrives.”
Des laughed. “That sounds right. Too much, but they are amazing. My children are still slow on the manners, so I thank you for them.” He nodded to them. “So where are you off to on your next adventure?”
Rune looked to Elle, his hand rubbing along her shoulder. He nodded to her.
Elle looked at Jules and Des as she grabbed Rune’s leg. “It’s here.”
Des’s brow wrinkled. “What? Here?”
“Well, not here at Seahorn,” Elle said. “An estate up along the coast, most likely.”
Rune nodded. “We are told there is a rather delightful manor house set in a wide berth of land leading to the sea that Hoppler is willing to let us have for a pittance. He doesn’t want to bother with the maintenance of it.”
“Hoppler?” Des asked, his eyes slightly narrowing.
“Apparently, a Lord Guidel was rather unlucky at the tables in the past year and it was the only thing that wasn’t entailed,” Rune said. “We plan on visiting it in a day or two.”
Elle looked to Jules. “And it is only a day’s ride away so that the cousins can play together often.”
Jules nodded, then blinked, stilling, her jaw slowly dropping. “Did you just say cousins?” She jumped to her feet, her actions mimicking her sons’ movements from a few moments ago. “Tell me this means what I think it does.”
Elle laughed, her hand rubbing across belly that had just started to harden. “It does. Five more months, or so.”
Squealing, Jules charged to her, grabbing
her hands and pulling her to her feet to yank her into a fierce hug. Rune stood, ever protective, his hand a whisper on her lower back just in case Jules spun her out of control.
“Well done, man.” Des stood and shifted Susannah to balance on his side as he reached out to pat Rune on the back. “It is its own adventure, having wee ones about.”
“I am planning on it, my friend,” Rune said, his stare directly on Elle.
She caught his look past the flurry of Jules’s arms about her. The smile on her husband’s face so wide it made her heart clench. His copper-green eyes glowing so brightly, she swore she could see the sun and the moons and the stars in them.
Her world, wrapped in him. Wrapped in all of them.
All she had ever wanted.
Real and hers.
Hers forever.
~ From K.J. Jackson ~
Thank you so much for reading! My next full book is about Hoppler (he’s super naughty and super delicious!). Be sure to check out the sneak peek below of Exiled Duke, An Exile Novel.
~
I found you and you found me—let’s not lose each other! Be sure to sign up for my VIP List for news of my next releases, sales and freebies. You’ll get my FREE starter library when you sign up!
~
If you liked reading The Soul of a Rogue, Box of Draupnir, please consider leaving a brief review. Even if it is only a line or two, that word of mouth is an enormous help and crucial to a book’s success—all of which allows me to keep doing this job I love! I thank you so much!
~
Don’t miss my other books
Historical Romance
If you haven’t already, be sure to check out my other historical romances—each is a stand-alone story and they can be read in any order (here they are in order of publication and series):
Hold Your Breath
Stone Devil Duke, currently free!
Unmasking the Marquess
My Captain, My Earl
Lords of Fate
Worth of a Duke
Earl of Destiny
Marquess of Fortune
Lords of Action
Vow
Promise
Oath
Revelry’s Tempest
Of Valor & Vice
Of Sin & Sanctuary
Of Risk & Redemption
To Capture a Rogue, A Logan’s Legends Novella
To Capture a Warrior, A Logan’s Legends Novella
The Devil in the Duke
Valor of Vinehill
The Iron Earl
The Wolf Duke
The Steel Rogue
Box of Draupnir
The Heart of an Earl
The Blood of a Baron
The Soul of a Rogue
Exile
Exiled Duke
Paranormal Romance
Flame Moon #1, currently free!
Triple Infinity, Flame Moon #2
Flux Flame, Flame Moon #3
~
The sneak peek of Exiled Duke, An Exile Novel…
{ Chapter 1 }
August 1826, London
Penelope Willington scooted across the busy street, barely dodging a wild phaeton driven by a reckless fop singing—no, screaming—lines from a ballad over and over—“the wise are fools, with all their rules”—as he set his horse to trample anything in his path.
Pen caught her breath as she teetered on the edge of the street, then scampered into the deep shadows of a brick building, this one four stories high and leaning precariously to the side.
It couldn’t collapse right now, could it? Not in the middle of the night with her under it. People had to be living in it—she could hear them above. It couldn’t fall with people in it, could it?
She wasn’t about to stand still and find out.
Next street. Make it to the next street.
She had been repeating that mantra for the last hour as she made it across London, creeping through the darkest shadows of the night.
Just one more street. One more.
Her hand clutching the rough black fabric at her neck, she moved her feet forward, sliding along under the shadows of the buildings, stepping over drunks, legs of people sleeping. She’d seen despair. Poverty. But this was beyond her. The stench, the filth, the deafening noise of horses and carriages and men and prostitutes and drunks filled her head and crammed every naïve thought of what she’d find here out of her mind.
One more street.
Pen squinted her eyes, searching amongst the bright splotches of lantern lights down the street. This had to be it. She had been counting. Counting like the fishmonger had told her. Her fingers clutched onto the rough corner of the building she’d stopped next to and she squinted harder. There. On the opposite side of the street. A sign.
Den of Diablo.
That was it.
Her heart skipped a beat, speeding for a moment before falling back in line.
That building at least looked upright. Solid enough. Simple exterior. Painted black. None of the messes of balconies and laundry hanging from the windows as there were on all the buildings in this part of town.
Just the black façade with nothing marring the expanse of it. Even the sashes of the windows were painted black, with black curtains blocking the light from the inside.
A black vortex, sucking in all who neared it.
What the blazes was she walking into?
But there was nothing to do now but keep forward. She needed this. Needed to find him.
This was where the fishmonger had said he was. So she had to chance this. She’d risked everything just to make it this far and turning back now wasn’t an option.
Her heart pounding, her steps hurried as she spotted a sliver of roadway between horses and carriages where she could cross the street and not get crushed. Jutting to her right, then her left, her feet slipped across the muck of fresh manure and she almost lost her balance and slammed into the side of a wagon. She managed to spin, twirling enough to land behind the wagon and she bolted forward, leaping onto the opposite walkway just as an enclosed black carriage skimmed her backside.
With a gasp of breath and thanks that she hadn’t just been squashed, she rushed forward, bumping into a drunk that staggered toward her. “Sixpence, for ye, little puritan.”
Pen didn’t look at him, only sent her feet faster. That was the eighth proposal she’d had that night—no matter how careful she was, she drew attention. She should have drawn a black scarf fully over her head—as much as she’d secured her hair back and tucked most of it under her cap, her blond strands still reflected far too much light, even in the darkness.
There, the front door. Black like everything else.
A golden handle. How peculiar. Sitting starkly against the blackness like a beacon.
She jumped to it, opening the door and stepping inside.
Her breath held, the door closed behind her and she blinked once. Twice. So much light inside for how black this building was outside.
And the noise.
Filling her head. Overwhelming. Yells and shrieking laughter. Sharp stabs across her already throbbing head.
Her eyes adjusted to the light.
Tables. Lots of tables. Lots of people. Mounds of coins and valuables and cards and dice on the tables. Gambling in every corner. Women in bodice-popping corsets leaning over the men as they played. Several barmaids shuffling about with full drinks in their hands. And men. So many men. Some in sailors’ rags. Some in the finery she’d seen the gentleman wear in Hyde Park. Most in the middling ground in-between the extremes.
The silence crept into the air about her, bit by bit, so slowly she didn’t even know it was happening until the room was suddenly still. Quiet. She looked about at the many men at the tables. Most, if not all, the eyes in the room were trained on her. Rid-rimmed, drunken eyes. How late into the night was it?
“Well, well, what have we here?” An enormous man, tall and wide, came at her from the left, throwing his arm about her s
houlders. Reeking in a slightly different way than the rest of the surroundings that sent her nose to twitch. “The new girls come in the back, little mouse, but this is a nice show for the chaps that be interested in yer goods.”
The man started forward, the clamp he had about her shoulders not giving her the option to resist moving with him as he maneuvered her through the many tables.
“We’ll just need to get ye upstairs and into proper clothin’ fer one of our girls. Madame Juliet will fix ye up right straight. Get some color on yer cheeks.”
It took Pen three full seconds to realize what he had just said. What he thought she was. And they were already three-quarters of the way across the room, heading straight toward the stairwell she could see in the back of the room.
She reached up and grabbed his hand clamped onto her upper arm, trying to peel away his meaty fingers from her body. “Sir, you don’t understand. I’m not here for—”
“What was that?” He leaned his ear down to her. The cacophony had refilled the room about them, the many stares back on the tables.
She twisted harder on his fingers, sinking her shoulder down, trying to escape him.
He kept her captive. Far too easily.
She looked up at him, raising her voice. “I’m not here for that. I’m here for Mr. Hoppler.”
“What? Hoppler?” His head threw back and he laughed. “Sure, mouse, sure. They all are but ye have to work yer way up to him.”
He pushed her ahead of him into the stairwell, somehow managing to not break the hold he had on her. Up three steps and she couldn’t halt his pushing.
Her head flew back and forth as she tried to turn back to him. “No, you don’t understand.”
He kept moving her upward.
Desperate measures. She dropped, her knees landing hard on the stairs.
It stopped all progress.
For one second.
He slid his hands under her arms and lifted her as though she was a two-year-old child, and moved her up the rest of the stairs, turning the corner and tackling the next flight in short order.
The Soul of a Rogue (A Box of Draupnir Novel Book 3) Page 19
