Vow: A Lords of Action Novel

by K. J. Jackson

  She held up her fingers almost pinched—a clear exaggeration of how close the bullet could have been to his heart. “This far from death, Caine. Dead. In the middle of a blasted field.” Her voice softened slightly at her last words, worry eating into her anger.

  “So you are mad at me?”

  “Mad does not even begin to describe it. Furious. Livid. Enraged. Frantic. Incensed. I could go retrieve your thesaurus from the library and continue on, if you would like.”

  His hand flew up. “No. Not necessary. I completely understand your state of mind. What I said to you yesterday was—”

  “No, Caine. You understand absolutely nothing about my state of mind. This has nothing to do with what you said to me.”

  “No?”

  Her forearms balancing on her thighs, her head dropped, shaking for a moment.

  She looked up at him, her green eyes pinning him. “No. I am furious because you gave up. You gave up on me, on the girls. I saw you there in that field. Standing. Waiting for death. A long time ago you said you would never give up on me. But you did exactly that when you gave up on yourself, Caine.”

  His head rolled away from Ara, avoiding her eyes. Avoiding the truth he didn’t care to acknowledge. “Leave, Ara. You cannot be here. Not with my ruin. You have to distance yourself.”

  “And now you dare to want me to leave?” Her hands flew up.

  He flopped his face back toward her. “Yes. For all that you are acquainted with the evils of the world, Ara, you are still so incredibly innocent. I am now nothing but scandal and ruin—the failed duel, my inclinations to acquiring virgins. All of it is now known—common fodder for the masses. You must not associate yourself with my ruin for the security of your own reputation.”

  “It is far too late for that, Caine.” Her chest rose in an exasperated sigh. “That you insist on letting people believe these lies about you infuriates me to no end. The lies are not who you are.”

  His hand slammed flat down on the bed. “I will not taint you with this, Ara. I will not taint the girls we have saved. This is my ruin to bear. I take what we have done to my grave. I will never let anyone harm you, or them.”

  “Oh.” She nodded, standing up, her eyes narrowing as she stared down at him from the side of the bed. “You still think to give up.”

  “Just because I want you removed from harm—”

  “No, you are giving up again, Caine. And I am damn well sick of it.”

  She spun on her heel, going to the door. Her head disappeared into the hallway, and a moment later, she opened the door wide, walking back over to the bed to stand next to him.

  “For some reason, you have it in your thick skull that my life, and the lives of the girls, would be better off without you, Caine.”

  Ara turned to the door. “Greta.”

  Greta peeked her head into the doorway. Ara gave her a nod. With a smile, Greta came into the room, leading a line of women. Silently, they filed into the room, woman after woman, thirty-eight total, standing in rows along the far side of Caine’s bedroom.

  Ara looked down at Caine. “As unseemly as it is that you have the lot of them in your bedroom, you needed to see this.” Ara’s eyes lifted to the rows, her hand sweeping over the crowd of women. “There is no greater proof of how you matter. These women, every single one of them, would either be dead or in a much harsher world without you, Caine. You have made a difference you cannot possibly comprehend. But they can. At the news that you were injured, all of them came here to keep vigil. Each of them has a loyalty to you that you cannot imagine. And each would willingly speak of what happened to her, if it meant restoring your name.”

  Ara looked down at Caine. “But them doing so is not necessary.”

  “Ara…”

  She looked up from him, finding Greta and giving her a nod. As silently as they had entered the room, the long line of women left.

  Ara waited until Greta closed the door behind her before she looked down to him. “You will not give up on what we have built, Caine. You will not give up on me. And you will not get rid of me with a few harsh words. Even though I think you the worst ass for trying.”

  Caine stared at the closed door, humbled, and more scared than he had ever been in his life. But not scared for himself. Scared for Ara.

  He reached out, grabbing her left hand. “You brought the duchess to save me from the duke’s bullet, but it came at a price, didn’t it, Ara?”

  A slight flinch. She tried to hide it, but he saw it. Ara nodded. “I told her what happened to Lizzie. I told her what happened to me. I told her what you have done to save all of the girls, but I did not name any of them.”

  “You should not have put yourself at risk, Ara.”

  “I trust the duchess, Caine. She will not tell a soul what I told her, and she will ensure her husband keeps the secret as well. You have to trust that there are some people with integrity in this world.”

  “Yet you have seen the depravity I have, Ara. I do not know how you manage to believe in the good.”

  She smiled, genuine. “While I have witnessed the depravity firsthand, I have also seen you nearly every day for the last six years. You—who you are as a man—tends to make me believe in the inherent good, Caine.”

  He closed his eyes, beyond grateful this woman was standing before him. Still believing in him. Especially after what he had said to her, lies though they were. His eyes opened to her. “So you are less mad at me?”

  Her head cocked, her mouth slipping to the side, scolding. “On my way. But you are still in trouble.”

  “I expect so.”

  Ara squeezed his hand. “Fletch is waiting to see you. He is a loyal friend to you, Caine.”

  Caine’s lips drew in with a nod that sent a shock of pain vibrating around his head. It took him several breaths before he could reply with a weak smile. “We sometimes get what we do not deserve.”

  She saw the pain and worry set into her eyes. “I will send him up. And then you need to sleep. Both the surgeon and your physician insisted.” She released his hand and went to the foot of the bed, scratching the center white stripe on Patch’s head. “Patch wants to stay with you. I have tried too many times today to chase him from the bed and get him to leave the room, but he insists on holding his own vigil.”

  “Or could it be he is weary of being the only male in a house of females and he recognizes his possible escape?”

  She chuckled. “One should be so lucky to be in the Baker Street house. We are delightful.” She patted Patch’s back, the sound thumping. “But he does miss you, I give you that. Remember—Fletch, and then sleep. Nothing more. Tomorrow you can get out of bed.”

  She walked to the door, her hand going to the doorknob.

  “Ara, stop.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at him. “That particular order again?”

  Caine offered a pained smile. “Ara, please stop. Do not leave me, not yet.”

  She sighed, turning back to him, but her hand remained on the knob. “What is it?”

  She kept her patience, even if Caine could still see the current of anger running under her skin. But he needed to tell her before it faded into one of the many things in life that became unsaid.

  “What you told me at the Gilbert Lane house, about Isabella—it was not your fault, Ara. You were not responsible for the madness that you were thrust into in that brothel.”

  She cringed, her eyes diving to a deep corner of the room. “No, but I did nothing to stop the madness. I cowered, Caine.”

  “You were young.”

  “Do not make excuses for my lack of character, Caine. I have been down that path far too many times, and I always end up where I belong. A coward. I hid. I watched. I prayed they would not turn to me. I did nothing.”

  “You do not deserve this burden you put upon yourself, Ara.”

  She looked at him, the crux of her palm wiping the corners of her eyes. “Yet it is mine, just the same.”

  “Ara.”
r />   She spun to leave.

  “I know, Ara. I know the guilt.”

  She froze and it took three long breaths for her to turn back to him.

  “I know what it is to live with the guilt, Ara. I did not save Isabella, and I was the one that should have. I will always feel that guilt. I left her before marrying her. I abandoned her. I thought I was only leaving her for a short while, but it was too long—an abandonment. It does not matter what she chose to do after I was gone, that she had betrayed me—I had already failed her. And how do I beg a dead person for forgiveness?”

  “One cannot.”

  “Exactly.” His head shook, his eyes drifting to the dark blue canopy over his head. With a deep breath, he looked to Ara. “So maybe we beg it of the living.”

  “I do not know how that would work, Caine.”

  “Neither do I, except that I am quite sure, in this very moment, what I need to be doing is begging you for your forgiveness, Ara. Everything that I said yesterday, every blasphemous lie I uttered, I did it so you would not be involved in the scandal, in my death. You do not know how I died inside watching you leave from the Gilbert Lane house. How I wanted to grab you. Hold you. It was all I could do to keep you at a safe distance.”

  A crooked smile reached her lips as her hand behind her back fiddled with the doorknob. “Daft man, I know that. I know what you were doing. But that does not excuse your words. How you tried to rid yourself of me. You should have let me make my own choice about what scandal I was willing to endure.”

  “Except that your choice would not have been my choice for you.”

  “Therein, festers the problem.”

  They stared at each other.

  Caine accepted her stare, knowing exactly what she said, what she demanded of him.

  Her own mind. Her own choices.

  But heaven help him, he did not know if he was man enough to allow it. Life would be so much simpler if she would just listen to his guidance. Bow to his wishes without questioning him at every turn.

  But that wouldn’t be Ara.

  Not the Ara he loved. He loved her for the very spirit he wanted to control.

  He sighed. Maybe he wasn’t man enough to allow it, but he had to believe he could be, for he sure as hell wasn’t going to let any other man try.

  “Ara, there was one other choice you made long ago that should have guided my actions—that should have forced me to respect the integrity of your choices, of what you could handle.”

  Her eyebrow quirked at him. “That I let you save me from that field?”

  “No. But that was also an admirable choice.” A quick smile crossed his lips before fading. “It was the choice you made in that brothel, to stay in the corner, to do nothing.”

  Her face crumpled like he had slapped her.

  “No, Ara. It was the right choice. It was survival. Isabella was already gone, and you did the right thing by making yourself invisible.” Caine shifted, drawing himself up slightly onto his right arm. “But if you need to hear me say I forgive you for that act, Ara, I will not do it. I will not do it because I never blamed you for Isabella, and I certainly will not forgive you for being a coward, because you are not. You are the furthest thing from a coward, Ara. You are a survivor. You are strong. And there is absolutely nothing for me to forgive.”

  Her face went white, her head shaking against his words.

  “And there is no reason for me not to trust your choices.”

  Her mouth cracked, but no sound came forth. In a blink, she offered a quick nod, spinning and disappearing out the door before Caine could stop her.

  Before he knew if she believed him.

  He sank down into the bed.

  Heaven help him, she needed to believe him.

  ~~~

  Ara closed the door behind her, collapsing against it.

  All those many years she had held her secret, terrified Caine would not forgive her for her cowardice. All those years wasted, holding her love for him at arm’s length because she didn’t want to see it destroyed when he knew the truth.

  He knew it now, knew everything. He didn’t blame her. Felt no need to forgive her.

  So why had the weight of guilt not lifted from her shoulders with his words?

  Why did her heart feel like a rock in her chest, struggling for every beat?

  The reality in the back of her mind fought forward, even though she tried to keep it at bay. The fact she had always known but never given credence to.

  It was her own damn self.

  She was the one not willing to forgive her own cowardice.

  So what in the hell was she to do with that fact? There was no hiding behind the secret anymore. No hiding behind what Caine might think of her.

  It was her alone that could not lift this burden from her heart.

  A glance out the window at the far end of the hallway told Ara it was now past dusk—night settling. A night that needed attending to. She shoved thoughts of forgiveness from her mind.

  Taking a deep breath, she pushed herself from the door, tiptoeing away from Caine’s room. She didn’t want him to hear her footsteps and call her back into his room. She didn’t have time for that—not with everything she had to arrange.

  Ara turned at the stairs, her feet quick. She needed to get Fletch and send him up and then rush to the Baker Street house.

  She fingered the card in her pocket. Ara had intended to remind Caine of the note, but he could not help. Not in his current condition.

  But that didn’t mean there wasn’t a girl to save.

  ~~~

  The rescue was not going as intended.

  Even with the six guards she had with. Even with the solid plan. Mayhem.

  And Ara had only moments to right the rescue.

  Turk, one of the guards, was supposed to snatch the virgin girl the moment she exited the side door of the brothel with whoever purchased her. It was how it was always done at the Jolly Vassal. The men purchased the girls inside and then exited with them through the side door to avoid the front door bustle of bodies.

  The plan had been for Turk to shove the man who bought the virgin aside, throw the girl over his shoulder, and then toss her into the carriage with Ara and Mrs. Merrywent.

  Pushing the man to the ground had been easy for Turk. Getting jumped by three cutthroats before he could pick up the girl was not.

  And now the girl was running, screaming down the street in her see-through chemise with her hands still bound in front of her, her veil covering half of her head.

  The devil in hades.

  Ara glanced back to the front of the brothel.

  Wolves.

  She recognized two of the men instantly—the wolves in the brothel from years ago. Wolves that had torn apart Isabella. They were already pointing, rushing after the girl.

  Ara surged out of the carriage, fingernails ripping along her arm as she freed herself from Mrs. Merrywent who was trying to hold her back.

  Running, Ara sped down the street after the girl. Just behind her, Franklin and Gordon, two of her six guards were at her heels. A third guard, Lewis, caught up to her speed, his arm brushing hers as he kept pace.

  A scuffle broke out behind them, and Ara ventured a glance back to see fists flying—Gordon and Franklin fending off the wolves from the brothel in the middle of the street.

  Lewis and Ara caught up to the girl within two blocks, the girl’s progress hindered by her bare feet. She flailed wildly when Ara grabbed her shoulder, stopping her escape, and smacked Ara across the face.

  The sting of it sent Ara stumbling, and by the time she gained her footing, Lewis had already tossed the girl over his shoulder.

  Ara hated to see the terror in the girl as she tried to fight her way from being captured again, her bound fists pounding on Lewis’s back. But he had her secure and now was not the time for explanations. Now was the time to get her into the carriage and to safety.

  They ran back toward the side street where the carriage waited,
though Lewis’s speed faltered with the extra weight of the girl. They turned the corner, the carriage in sight.

  A sudden grunt sounded behind her, but Ara didn’t look back. The safety of the carriage was only a few feet away, Felix high in the driver’s seat yelling at her. She could hear him, but she couldn’t make out his words.

  She should have looked back. She knew it.

  If she had, maybe she could have dodged.

  Instead, her feet went flying out from under her, a thick body tackling her into the muck of the street.

  Ara hit the cobblestones hard, her ribs crunching, but she managed to fight her head upward. Lewis skidded to a halt, turning back to her.

  “Go. Get her to the carriage.” Ara squeaked out through stolen breath. “Get the girl away, then come back.”

  Lewis moved, taking the order and reaching the carriage just as the mass of man on top of Ara lurched, his belly landing on her head, smothering her face into the sludge of the street.

  All she could see was darkness.

  But she could hear the carriage. Feel the pounding of the hooves, the wheels crunching over the cobblestones.

  The girl was safe.

  It was all that mattered.

  { Chapter 18 }

  He was going to kill Ara.

  There was no question on that fact.

  He was going to kill her. But first, he had to get her back.

  Caine set his face to indifference, stepping to the side as a painted harlot with only a cherry-red skirt on slipped past him in the narrow hallway.

  He tilted his head to her as though they were passing acquaintances riding Rotten Row. If there was one thing he had learned in life, it was to be respectful of women, no matter their circumstances.

  Except that particular standard would be lifted the second he got his hands on Ara. He was now thinking to throttle her before he killed her. And to think he had bloody well told her he respected her decision-making abilities.

  More idiot words had never been spoken.

  Caine glanced down the hallway, stifling the urge to tear every door open. He wouldn’t get through three—especially with his left arm bound to his body from the bullet wound—before the two thugs by the stairs tossed him out, probably through a second-story window.