The Iron Earl

by K. J. Jackson

  “You realize the likelihood of you ever having to pick berries for Rupe in the wild again are slim?”

  She stepped toward him, her chin tilting up as she smiled at him. “Maybe, but one never knows and I am free to learn useful things here. I don’t intend to ever mistake my berries again. Learning to identify edible berries was the first topic I tackled during this last week. What if we were on a picnic next summer and I wanted to pick berries?”

  “You’re already planning a picnic for next summer?”

  “Of course. Picnics, day long rides.” Her eyes widened. “Oh and I want to visit every inch of your family’s lands. Meet the people, whether they want to meet me or not. I’m determined to put an end to the horrified suspicion in their eyes once they hear me talk and know I’m English.”

  The optimistic glow in her gold-green eyes was so hopeful for the future that a pang ran across Lachlan’s chest. He knew he was about to destroy the spark of it.

  At least for the time being.

  Evalyn’s hand lifted, drifting out to the surrounding plant beds. “And all these crops Haagert grows for the kitchens in the winter are a wonder. Did you know he has a crop of blackberries that will be ready at yuletide? Planted and timed just for the festivities. A marvel. He won’t let me touch that plant bed just yet.”

  Lachlan looked at the plant bed she was marveling over. The green leaves looked the same to him as every other plant in the conservatory. For what little he knew of plants, he was nonetheless happy to find his wife so enamored of the room.

  She glanced back to him. “But you are probably not in here to hear about blackberry bushes, are you?”

  “Not exactly.” His voice went grave, even though he tried to keep his tone even. “I actually need to pull you away for a few minutes to come with me.”

  Her eyebrows drew together, the glow in her eyes abating. “Is something amiss?”

  “Yes.” Lachlan sighed. He’d debated on the walk to the conservatory how much he should tell her before they got to his grandfather’s room. The less the better. She would come willingly if he kept his mouth closed. He forced a weak smile. “But it just needs to be put to right, and then all will be well. But I need you with me to do so.”

  “Of course.” She lifted her apron, wiping the dirt off each of her fingers individually. “Is he not well?”

  “He is fine, at least for now.”

  Until I kill the old buzzard.

  Lachlan stretched the weak smile on his face.

  Evalyn hurried to the bench and removed her apron, hanging it on a nearby hook.

  He held out his arm to her and she joined him without word, even as hesitation settled into her gold-green eyes.

  They walked in silence through the twisting corridors. Pausing for a moment at the threshold to his grandfather’s room, Lachlan took a deep breath, steeling his spine.

  A smile—meant to reassure—twisted oddly on his mouth as he looked down at Evalyn.

  Her eyes widened in alarm, but he gave her no time to react and pushed open the heavy oak door to his grandfather’s room.

  His hand on the small of her back, he nudged Evalyn into the room, his footsteps behind her only pausing to close the door behind them.

  With the heavy curtains drawn against the daylight, only the fire and the four sconces spaced on the opposite wall lit the room. His grandfather sat in his wingback chair by the fireplace, laughing at something the man sitting across from him had just said. The visitor sat with his back to Evalyn and Lachlan, only the corner of his elbow perched wide on the wingback chair he sat in visible.

  Evalyn looked back over her shoulder at Lachlan, her eyes crinkling in confusion as he propelled her forward.

  “Grandfather, we are here.” Lachlan stopped in the middle of the room, his hand on the small of Evalyn’s back sliding around to wrap her waist and tug her tight to his body.

  His grandfather’s look swung to Lachlan and he lifted his cane, jabbing it in the air at his grandson. “Took ye long enough.”

  Lachlan instantly bristled. “It took an appropriate amount of time.”

  The visitor stood, stepping around the chair.

  A gasp flew from Evalyn, her knees buckling.

  Lachlan’s grip around her back tightened, holding her upright as he assessed the devil.

  A shorter man, only just as tall as Evalyn, he was stocky with a protruding belly. What was once perhaps a distinguished face was now wrinkled with time, his hair half grey and standing in odd tufts from his head. Grey eyes that weren’t beady, weren’t pinched as Lachlan had imagined they would be.

  Far too ordinary.

  Not the slightest visible inkling of monster about him.

  The worst kind of monster.

  “Daughter, it is good to see you in fine health.” Evalyn’s stepfather strode across the room, his hands outstretched to her. He stopped in front of her, his hands clasping both sides of her face, patting her cheeks with far too much force. “We were terribly worried on your well-being.”

  Evalyn jerked away from his touch, shrinking into Lachlan’s side. Her head bowed but her voice managed to stay steady. “Stepfather.”

  A tremble ran through her, a tremble Lachlan could feel quite plainly against the side of his body.

  “I apologize again for any fracas my grandson caused with yer daughter, Lord Falsted.” Still sitting in his chair, his grandfather’s words came clipped with spite. “Hot-headed one, he is. Always been so. Does not like to think on the consequences of his actions.”

  Lachlan ignored his grandfather’s words, his gaze slicing into Evalyn’s stepfather. “As you can clearly see, Evalyn is well and here of her own free will.”

  His eyes fixed on Evalyn, Baron Falsted’s hand jutted out, grabbing her chin and twisting it upward. “This is true daughter?”

  Evalyn nodded, her look not rising to him. Even with her chin captured by Falsted, her body pressed into Lachlan as though she were trying to crawl inside of him.

  He knew she’d be scared at seeing her stepfather—but this—the complete and instant crumbling of her body and spirit he hadn’t anticipated.

  He resisted the urge to send his fist through the man’s jaw—it wasn’t the time. Not yet. Lachlan cleared his throat, taking a decided step backward and bringing Evalyn with him. It broke Falsted’s hold on her chin.

  Instant ire flashed in Baron Falsted’s dull grey eyes. “Speak it, child.”

  Her voice came out tiny, a squeak barely heard above the crackling of the wood in the fire. “I—I do wish to be here.” Her body tensed, defense against a sure blow to her person.

  Lachlan took another step backward with her, moving her out of striking distance. “You heard her. Your stepdaughter left of her own accord and this is where she chooses to be.”

  “Except the choice wasn’t hers to leave Wolfbridge.” Falsted’s look lifted from Evalyn to Lachlan. “You stole her away and I intend to take her back and bring charges against you, sir.”

  A cold smile pulled Lachlan’s lips back. “You can try. But I have eight men that traveled with us that will attest to that same fact—she came with us of her own free will. Married me of her own free will.”

  “She had no choice but to marry you after you stole her away—the girl’s not an idiot—she knew she’d been ruined.” Falsted dared a step forward, his right hand flexing, the fat sapphire ring he wore on his index finger flashing in the light of the sconce behind Lachlan.

  The trembles running through Evalyn exploded, turning into a full shake that took over her body. It twisted into a full fire the anger that had been coursing hot through Lachlan’s blood since they stepped foot into the room.

  Two minutes alone with the monster and he’d have his head smashed into the marble of the fireplace and Evalyn would never have reason to crumble like this again.

  His grip around her waist went into an iron hold—now he wanted her to crawl inside him.

  Lachlan swallowed, reining in his fury. “Whe
ther you want to believe it or not, everything Evalyn has done since departing Wolfbridge she has chosen willingly.”

  “Ha.” Falsted’s caustic chortle boomed into the room. “You think you can hide the fact that she tried to escape you twice to no success? You wouldn’t let her leave your traveling party. Does that sound willing? I don’t think the courts will look lightly upon that.”

  Lachlan angled Evalyn behind him as he took a step forward, his glare skewering Falsted. “Where did you hear that?”

  A demon smile curled the left side of Falsted’s face. “It doesn’t matter how I know, it matters that I do. It matters that your grandfather knows it as well.”

  The fire raging through his blood pounded into Lachlan’s brain, turning his vision red. Who the blasted hell had been talking to these two?

  “There will be some sort of retribution for stealing my only daughter away.” Falsted’s look went pointedly to Evalyn half hidden behind Lachlan. “Or I take her back.”

  “What—no.” Evalyn turned her body into Lachlan’s side, her hands going to his coat, clutching the dark fabric as her look went frantic to his face.

  “Leave the room, girl,” Falsted said. “This conversation isn’t for a dim-witted chit like you.”

  She jumped and what little fire was left in her eyes went out, her gaze panicking, looking for escape.

  “You’d be wise not to speak to my wife like that, Baron.” Lachlan’s voice had dipped so low, the rumble in his own chest took him aback.

  The sneer on Falsted’s face deepened. “Your wife? I was told she’d be no such thing for long.”

  “Who the hell told you that?” Lachlan’s look shifted to his grandfather.

  Of course the old bastard had told Falsted. He wanted Evalyn gone just as much as Falsted wanted her back.

  “Get out of here, girl.” His words barking, Falsted lifted an arm, pointing to the door. “You’ve caused enough trouble.”

  Lachlan took another step forward—ready to pounce, to pummel Falsted—when Evalyn ripped herself from his side. Her head bowing, she scampered to the door, her feet shuffling as though she would tumble if she picked up her heels.

  Lachlan froze in place, his eyes trained on her back as she yanked the enormous door open and slipped out. How had she crumbled so quickly? How did this demon of a man have such a hold over her that she would run, even with Lachlan standing between them?

  The door closed, blocking Evalyn from view.

  “At least the marquess understands the severity of the situation,” Falsted said. “We have already agreed to a divorce settlement of your so-called marriage.”

  Lachlan tore his look from the ancient door and pinned his grandfather. “What? Bloody hell, Grandfather.”

  His grandfather slammed his cane down on the ottoman. “I’ll not have yer opinion on it, Lach.”

  Lachlan looked to the door.

  Stay and fight his grandfather now or see to his bloody terrified wife?

  The image of her gold-green eyes flashed through the red haze in his mind—her beaten look of panic, of escape.

  It wasn’t a choice.

  His feet aimed for the door.

  ~~~

  She hadn’t made it far.

  The rage pounding in his veins and clouding his vision hadn’t subsided, but he didn’t have time for it to quell. Evalyn was far more important.

  Two and a half corridors to the left and he found her. Her shaking fingers trailed on the stone wall, holding her upright as she stumbled along.

  At the sound of his clomping boots, she jumped, spinning around.

  “Evalyn.” He closed in the last seven steps to her.

  “How could you do that to me—ambush me with him like that? I was safe.” Her hand flew up to thump on her chest. “I was safe, secure, and now…” A gargled gasp cut off her words with a tremble that swept through her body.

  The crack of her words and her crumpled face sent a spear through his chest. His hands lifted, settling gently on her shoulders.

  She jumped backward, his hands searing her.

  “I’m sorry, Eva, but I didn’t think I could get you in that room any other way. I was told your stepfather was demanding to see you—see with his own eyes that you were unharmed. I had to prove that you are well and here on your own accord.”

  “Not that it worked—not that anything defying my stepfather is but a flickering fly of nuisance until he gets what he wants.” Her words came out in stuttered gasps.

  Lachlan stepped to her, stealing away the space she had gained between them. “He’ll not get you.” His hands lifted once more, his fingers capturing the sides of her cheeks.

  She flinched, her eyes closing and her head shaking. But she didn’t jerk away.

  “You have to trust me, Eva. He’ll not take you from me. No matter what.” His words shook with vehemence. He glanced back over his shoulder, then bent his head so his eyes were directly in front of hers. “But for that to happen I have to go back and talk to my grandfather before he does something so dire there is no coming back from it. Before this turns brutal.”

  Her eyes widened, the gold sparks in them alarmed. “Lachlan—”

  “Trust me, Eva. Just say you trust me.”

  Her eyes closed for a long moment. One breath. Two. Her eyelashes fluttered and she met his gaze. “I do.”

  He kissed her forehead. “Go to our rooms. Stay there. I will be up as soon as I have settled the matter.”

  { Chapter 19 }

  The ancient door creaking starkly against its hinges, Lachlan stormed into his grandfather’s room.

  “Where’s Falsted?”

  Staring at the fire, his cane propped under his chin, the marquess didn’t lift his gaze to his grandson. “He is being shown to the north tower.” His aged eyes, still far too canny, lifted from the fire to Lachlan.

  “How could you do that, Grandfather? Letting that monster into our home?”

  “How could I do that? How could ye do that, Lach? Bringing that girl into our home? With one fell swoop of yer fool cock ye lost half of the funds that were to build the factory in order to compensate Inverton for the broken betrothal. And then ye continue to lay with the daughter of the devil. Yer the one that betrayed yer brother.”

  “And you’re the one that just invited the devil himself into our home.” Lachlan sighed, his fingers running across his eyes. “Taking Evalyn as my wife is no betrayal to Jacob—she is an innocent in this.”

  “Ha. If ye believed that yer voice would be ringing with conviction, boy. Ye be the one that betrayed yer kin, and now I’m bound to make good on yer mistakes. Make the bastard pay.”

  Lachlan froze, ice filling his veins. “He’s paying you for her?”

  “Aye. The land between our western border and Fulton’s Ridge. It’s ours if we give him the girl back, marriage divorced.”

  “Bloody fucking hell.” Lachlan exploded, the boom of his voice echoing into the tall dark corners of the room.

  “It’s what little we can salvage, Lach.” The marquess leaned back in his chair, settling his cane across his lap, the matter settled.

  Lachlan strode to his grandfather, planting himself inches away, leaning over him. “Evalyn is not yours to sell, you foolish old buzzard. She’s my damn wife and if you don’t stop interfering this instant I will leave these lands and never return.”

  The marquess’s wiry white eyebrows lifted, slanting inward. “Ye would never.”

  Lachlan scoffed. “No, you have the wrong grandson—that was Jacob that would never abandon Vinehill. But I’m not Jacob, Grandfather.”

  “Ha, ye don’t possess the audacity, boy.”

  “You don’t know me at all, do you?” Lachlan stood straight, his head shaking. “I don’t need these lands. These coffers. I own enough investments that Evalyn and I will do quite well on our own—with or without Vinehill.”

  “Ye ungrateful whelp.”

  “Not ungrateful—practical, Grandfather. I wasn’t going to se
rve the crown forever. I knew that. I was ready for a life—my own life away from Vinehill before Jacob died. And as much as you like to think you can—you can’t control me like you did Jacob. Not by far.”

  “So what, ye little wretch? Yer going to walk away from here for what? For that wisp of a girl ye’ll tire of in six months’ time? Walk away to prove yer a man? Yer no man, boy—not yet. Ye still haven’t learned to control yerself, for if ye did ye never would have married that whore of a girl.”

  Lachlan stilled.

  Too far.

  He’d gone too far.

  Insult him, Lachlan was used to it.

  But to call his wife a whore?

  Lachlan leaned over his grandfather, his movements lethal as his fingers went down to grip the arms of the wingback chair. “My hands are staying off your neck for that insult, Grandfather—that alone proves what control I possess.” He exhaled a seething breath. “You’re engulfed in a frenzy of spite, old man—you have been since my parents and your wife died. And when Jacob died it swallowed you whole and now you can spew nothing but hatred into the world. Hatred for me, for Sloane—for your own blood. Hatred that has nothing to do with Evalyn.”

  “Ye don’t ken what I’ve done for ye, boy.” The marquess’s lip sneered. “And now I’m to be vilified because I’m trying to keep this estate alive for ye—for the next in line, for the legacy?”

  Lachlan’s brow furrowed. “A legacy? This is how you think to leave a legacy? You don’t know—”

  A sharp knock on the door cut into Lachlan’s words and the door opened.

  Dammit, whoever was daring to come in was going to get knocked on their ass. Everyone in the castle knew not to interrupt one of their brutal rows.

  Lachlan pushed away from his grandfather’s chair, spinning to the doorway.

  Their solicitor scurried into the room, his head nodding to both men. “Edward, Lachlan.”

  “Now is not the time, Simmons,” Lachlan’s grandfather spat out, waving his cane in the air.