by J. K. Coi
“Never let it be said that these fastenings serve only one convenience,” he teased. The shirt, like many of her clothes, had been refashioned with snaps in order to facilitate her artificial hand, which was strong but lacked the ability to navigate delicate buttonholes and silk lacings.
“If I did that to your clothing as often as you do it to mine, you wouldn’t have anything to wear by week’s end,” she teased, fingering his collar.
“I would gladly order new shirts every day.” His voice had lowered, a telltale sign of his desire. The deep rumble triggered a swift rush of gooseflesh over her skin, as if she’d been trained to respond to it. To him.
His hands closed tight on her upper arms before he shifted and helped her down to the smooth floor. He tugged off her tall boots. She lay back and let him drag the heavy twill fabric of her trousers down her thighs and over the metal rods, balls and gears that made up her lower legs.
She was no longer as self-conscious as she’d once been, at least not with him. But finding herself bared to the skin in the bright light of day while her husband remained fully clothed was disconcerting. The state didn’t trouble her for long though, because as soon as he tossed her silk drawers to the floor behind them, he was settling between her spread thighs.
His touch infused her with heat, lips tracing a burning path from her mouth, down her neck to her breast while his hand cupped and squeezed the other. He flicked her taut nipple with his tongue, torturing her with the tight sensation before pulling it into his mouth and sucking hard until she moaned his name.
Her hands tore at his shirt and she didn’t care if she reduced it to shreds as long as it came off. He lifted his head and got to his knees to help her, the thickly corded muscles of his chest and arms bunching and moving. The sunshine through the window made him seem an angel wrapped up in a full-body halo. In contrast, the light only painted her harshly. It stripped her bare more effectively than being without clothes, highlighting the harsh transitions between flesh and iron, exaggerating the dull gray metal that had taken over so much of her body.
“You are absolutely perfect,” he murmured, drawing her gaze back up to his. The understanding in his eyes told her just how transparent she was.
She knew she had to stop thinking of herself as broken, and for the most part that was coming along. At least as well as could reasonably be expected. She was even able to appreciate what the doctor had done for her when he fitted her with new limbs, but there was something about being in this room, the ghostly trappings of her dancing career all around her…
She sat up and reached for him with her hand—the one that could feel the warmth in his skin and the beating of his heart beneath her palm—and laid it over his chest. “As are you. Make love to me, husband.”
Without words, he lifted her onto his lap until she straddled him, pulling her close and holding her in a tight embrace. He buried his hand in her hair once more, crushed his lips to hers and kissed her with such intensity, she felt as if he’d been holding back since their return home.
“Yes.” She swiveled her hips, grinding against the hard length of his cock through his trousers. Why was he still wearing clothes when she was naked and eager, hot and wet, and oh so ready to be filled by him? “Oh yes. Hurry. Please hurry.”
“Callie,” he groaned, burying his face in the curve of her neck. His heaving breaths seared her skin and she threw her head back. The action lifted her breasts as if to demand their own share of his attention, and like a child distracted by a new toy he complied, taking her nipple back into his mouth.
Pleasure speared through her and she clutched his head, begging him for more. Then suddenly he was standing, lifting her with him. He pressed her spine to the wall, fumbling between their bodies to free himself before pulling her legs around his waist.
They hadn’t tried this position since she’d been fitted with her new legs, but he more than proved they were capable of it. With his trousers still hanging on his waist, he cupped her bottom and she braced her hands on his shoulders as he finally…finally pushed inside her.
“Christ, you feel so damn good.” He thrust hard and fast, wrenching a broken cry from her lips. “I’ve tried to give you time. I wanted to make sure—”
“Shut up, Jasper.” With her eyes closed, she could only feel. Feel the slick glide of his cock and the bunching of his muscles under her hand, the firm grasp of his fingers clasping her buttocks as he guided her body down on him.
“I needed you to feel safe again,” he continued anyway in a groaning rush. “And. I. Never. Ever.” His harshly spoken words matched the timing of his deep strokes. “Want to. Hurt you. Again.”
She tightened her legs around him. Every one of his driving thrusts slammed her against the wall. Her breasts bounced. Her heart pounded. The tremors of her climax startled her with their suddenness and intensity, tearing her apart and throwing her back just in time for his next thrust to start her going all over again until he followed her into the whirlwind of sensation with a gritted shout.
When the day came back into focus, Jasper planted his forehead against the wall beside her. He fought to catch his breath. She smiled until she realized her legs were still squeezing his hips and might actually be hurting him, although he’d never say so.
She tried to let her legs down, but they didn’t respond. With a grunt, she tried again, but it was as if everything below her waist had frozen. She pushed on his shoulders, heart pounding just as quickly as it had a moment ago in the throes of her orgasm, but now for a much different reason. Jasper seemed reluctant to let her go but stepped back and helped her regain her footing on the smooth surface of the floor.
Thankfully, she remained standing and after a long moment she could even move with small, halting steps. He didn’t appear to notice her distress.
They dressed quietly. Jasper found his shirt and pulled it on, quickly putting himself back to rights while she moved much more slowly, periodically testing her legs, which seemed perfectly fine.
She finished the last snap of her shirt, and he pulled her into his arms, kissed her lightly on the lips. Her nose. Her forehead. His hand brushed her shoulder and traveled down her arm, and she gave him her full attention.
He started to pull away, but she stopped him, feeling the need to say…something. Should she tell him what the doctor said? No, not yet. It still hurt too much and he would take that on his own shoulders. “You’ve never hurt me, Jasper. We’ve been over this before. I don’t blame you for what happened, not anymore.”
“I know.” He reached up to caress her cheek, but his smile didn’t begin to hide the strain that pulled his features tight. “If only I could stop blaming myself.”
“You can’t—”
He shushed her, putting a finger to her lips. “Don’t worry, it doesn’t happen often. I think it was seeing you in here, hearing you talk about putting away your costumes and memorabilia. I wish I could convince you not to. I hate the thought that you’ve given up on ever dancing again.”
The words stung, but neither one of them could afford to keep indulging in the fantasy that their lives would continue just as they’d been. She and Jasper had agreed to put the past behind them, but it seemed memory and regret were powerful divisors and would continue to throw a shadow on their marriage.
With a shake of his head, he seemed to shut away his feelings until she no longer felt as if she were looking directly into his soul. Relieved and guilty, she took a deep breath and forced out a chuckle. “Do you think we’ve scandalized our servants enough for one day?”
“No doubt.” He glanced past her. “Would you like some help with your packing?”
She shook her head. “Actually, I think I had best leave it for another day.”
Chapter Two
For God’s sake, he’d all but crumbled to pieces back there. She needed strength and support, not maudlin sentimentality. Instead of standing strong, he’d ended up burdening her with the depth of his regret and she’d been f
orced to offer him succor.
Jasper headed for his study, thinking she would continue on into the morning room to check on the servants, but she turned back to him before he could disappear inside the dark room.
“We can’t keep putting this off. I think our time is already about up.”
His jaw tensed. “What do you mean?”
“You know very well what I mean. General Black will come. I need you to train with me, show me how to protect myself. These limbs might be strong and fast, but in a real-life combat situation—”
“There isn’t going to be any combat situation.” The very thought made him shudder. “I refuse to allow it. I don’t care what Black says, you aren’t getting involved in the War Office’s insane covert affairs. Malcolm and I have already agreed that if and when the bastard does show up, we will handle any mission he thinks to assign to you.”
“You refuse to allow?” She glared at him. “You and Malcolm have agreed on it?”
He sighed. Perhaps he shouldn’t have brought their friend into the discussion. The former military captain wouldn’t thank him if he found out. “Don’t get angry. I haven’t lied to you or kept anything from you. It’s no secret I don’t want you dragged into that life. You have to know I wouldn’t let Black conscript you into service just because he likes the idea of having a new toy to play with.”
“Because that’s all I am? A toy? Not so different from the doctor’s serviceable automaton, I suppose. I couldn’t possibly have a brain and make my own decisions. I only get wound up and set into motion by whoever turns the key and pushes me in the right direction.” The low rasp of her voice deepened, betraying her agitation, but the volume never rose above a conversational tone. “The only problem is I’m yours. Your toy. And you don’t want someone else to have a turn, do you?”
“Don’t talk like that.” He reached for her arm as she moved to stalk away. “You’re my wife. I’m entitled to protect you from harm.”
And I’ve done such a great job of that so far. It was no doubt exactly what she was thinking, too, but at least she didn’t say it.
Only because she didn’t have time to.
“Excuse me, milord and milady Carlisle?”
Callie didn’t even blink, staring him down.
Jasper sighed and turned to the housekeeper, who waited with a hesitant expression clouding her face. “What is it, Mrs. Jenkins?”
“Young John says we have guests approachin’, my lord. A pair of riders coming hard on horseback.” The woman’s hands twisted in her white apron as her gaze flickered to Callie, whose posture had gone decidedly rigid. “Shall we turn them away, then?”
A shard of ice wedged itself high between his ribs as he slid a hand down Callie’s arm and squeezed her fingers tight in reassurance.
“No, that’s all right. I believe I know who has come to visit.” They received their fair share of country callers, but those who thought to simply drop in unannounced were usually disappointed. After the attack on Callie it had become a strict household rule—in large part for the benefit of their nervous servants—that visitors must make arrangements ahead of time if they wished to see anything besides the wrong end of a Tesla gun.
That meant there was really only person inconsiderate enough to show up unannounced—
“It’s him. General Black.” Callie tugged her hand free and stepped away.
To Mrs. Jenkins he said, “You can show the general to the salon and we’ll greet him there after we freshen up.”
“Yes sir.” The portly woman dipped her head and disappeared down the hall. He and Callie retreated upstairs to their rooms to quickly wash and change.
On the way back down, he took her hand. Thankfully, she took it despite her annoyance with him. “We’ll deal with this together.”
She gave him a dark look. “When it suits your purpose you want us to stand together, but when it doesn’t, you would leave me out of the decision and—”
“My purpose is always your safety. Why do you wish to fight me on that?”
She shook her head. “This isn’t the time to discuss it.”
“We obviously need to.”
“We do,” she agreed. “And I have been trying to talk to you for weeks, but you refused to listen. Well, now it’s too late, isn’t it?”
Damn it. She was right. They should have had this discussion before now, but he’d been putting it off in the naïve hope the problem simply wouldn’t manifest. “All right, let’s just find out what the man wants.”
Two men waited inside as they entered the salon. One, a slim, bespectacled figure who couldn’t have been older than thirty-five, yet seemed to suffer the unfortunate luck of both thinning and prematurely silver hair, sat in the divan on the far side of the room. His head was bent and he ruffled through the stack of papers in his arms until Jasper and Callie closed the door.
The general turned from the velvet-framed window, lips twisting into an arrogant grin that distorted the jagged white scar bisecting his face.
“General Black.” Jasper waited inside the door, keeping Callie close by his side.
“Good day, Lord and Lady Carlisle.” The derision in his tone could not be completely concealed. It was no secret that the general had little use for the noble class. Only for the underground war effort—underground because, although the war with France was technically over, hostilities still ran high and deep—he would make use of whatever tools were available. To his endless disgust, the men and women of the ton were able to gain access to places and information that a hardened soldier, who was little more than a bloodthirsty pirate, obviously could not. “What are you doing here?” Jasper didn’t much care if he was in the presence of a senior officer. This was his bloody home and the man had come without invitation, ostensibly to force his wife to undertake a dangerous mission those toadying reprobates in the War Office weren’t man enough to handle on their own. Black was lucky Jasper didn’t throw him out and kick his arse back down the lane.
The strange thin man remained silent, but Black laughed. “I suppose it was too much to expect a gracious welcome.”
“No doubt.”
“Jasper.” Callie pulled her hand from his and took a step forward. “Why don’t we all sit down and let the general get to the point of his visit.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he ground out. “You aren’t doing anything he says.”
She sighed and glided toward the sofa. So elegant and fluid. She didn’t realize the way she moved was much the same now as it had been before the attack, because she couldn’t see that her grace had nothing to do with her legs or her dancing. It came from the beauty of her very soul.
Jasper understood why she would believe she had to agree to whatever Black wanted—she thought she owed the War Office for her survival and this was her payment. It only made him want to fight harder to keep her as far out of it as he could, but the longer General Black remained in his drawing room, the quicker his control over such things slipped away like tendrils of smoke on the breeze.
“Please, General,” she prompted. “If you would continue…”
Black wasted no more time. “The two of you are to return to Manchester as soon as possible.” He glanced at Jasper, daring him to protest. “There has been an incident of somewhat disastrous proportion.”
Jasper folded his arms. “We’ll hear you out only because my lady won’t let me throw you out. But there isn’t anything you can say that will make me change my mind about this.”
Surprisingly, Black didn’t argue. He only looked to his companion, who glanced down at his file of paperwork and started to explain.
Before he had finished talking, Jasper admitted he’d been wrong. It turned out there was something the general could say to make him change his mind, and they would indeed be going to Manchester.
In fact, they probably couldn’t get there fast enough.
Chapter Three
The proper-looking agent stood and glanced at General Black. His crisply pres
sed officer’s jacket was fastened smartly, the buttons and braid on his shoulders denoting his status.
Apparently deciding he wasn’t getting a formal introduction from that corner, he cleared his throat and turned to Jasper and Callie, drawing attention to the pointed Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. Jasper half expected him to push the thick-rimmed glasses up his nose and pull on his vest nervously, but he didn’t. He remained very still and very serious looking. At first glance he was unassuming and easily dismissed, but Jasper had noticed him looking at Callie, even through the bickering back and forth with General Black.
He obviously knew of her enhancements, had been studying her movements as if he could see right through her clothing. And he’d watched her face as if the implant in her eye fascinated him.
Jasper did not walk over there and punch those spectacles off the man’s face for looking at his wife like she were a bug under his microscope. It would feel very good to do exactly that, but he consciously held on to the civility that had been drilled into him as a responsibility of his position in society.
It felt like a very long moment to wait, but he told himself he would learn more than if he fisted the man’s shirt in his hand, broke some bones…or even continued to argue with the damned general.
“The agent you must retrieve for the War Office—”
“Agent? What agent?” Jasper turned back to Black, who only shrugged. Jasper refocused on his companion. “And who the devil are you, again?”
The thin man was finally forced to abandon his examination of Callie. He turned to Jasper with a look down the bridge of his long nose. “I don’t believe I mentioned my name.”
“Well then, don’t you think you had better do that?” The soldier’s attitude bordered on insolence, even if Jasper wasn’t already holding the man’s rude examination of his wife against him—which he definitely was. “And while you’re speaking to a superior officer, Lieutenant, you will ‘sir’ your bloody heart out, do you understand me?”
