Josiah's Bride

by Jory Strong

  She was nothing to him except an obligation. She was only in his warren for the boy.

  "Who's the woman Noah is looking for?" she asked, her voice strained, and he couldn't help but admire the courage it took to ask another question rather than retreat.

  "She was my father's mistress."

  Josiah opened the stronghold door and the boy flung himself against Ella. "Mama."

  * * * * *

  Chapter 9

  At least I have this, Ella thought as Jacob's arms wrapped around her, hugging her tightly.

  She returned the hug, blinked away tears. The heart that had resided in her stomach, beating slowly and heavily at discovering her new husband was still in love with the woman who'd given birth to Jacob, climbed back into her chest.

  Ella swallowed against the tightness in her throat and wished she could do the same to the hope that kept rising each time Josiah looked at her or spoke to her or touched her, wearing the guise of a husband and not the warlord. It couldn't matter that, unlike Jacob's, Josiah's heart wasn't ready to make room for another woman.

  She took Jacob's hand. It felt right in hers though she'd spent more time thinking about creating new potions and discovering new medicines than about getting married and being a mother. "Ready to show me where I'm going to live?"

  "Yes!"

  Josiah released her arm and cold washed into the place where he'd gripped her. They headed in the direction of the marketplace but skirted it, reminding her of the walk of shame to the New San Jose city gate.

  Were they avoiding the marketplace so she wouldn't be compared to Jacob's mother? So those Josiah ruled wouldn't wonder why he'd settled instead of marrying Victoria?

  But then, only his soldiers had been close enough to witness his reaction. And probably only his inner circle understood that he'd been expecting her sister, that getting married had nothing to do with desire. And love at first sight—

  No. Not when it was obvious that Jacob's mother still commanded Josiah's heart.

  I won't talk to you about her. She's dead but the boy still needs a mother.

  A wife from the city would have only Jacob to focus on. She and Victoria had entered Elias's and Jax's territories a few times, but didn't have family or friends in the warrens.

  They stopped in front of a thick steel door. Josiah pulled back a metal plate, punched in a code and they entered a maze.

  At its end, a lone Victorian stood as it must have before the Final War. It was a two-story house, narrow and painted blue, its windows trimmed in white.

  "It's beautiful," she said, comparing it to pictures of similar houses in books that had also survived the Final War.

  Jacob tugged her hand, hurrying her to the house. The smell of spicy, cooked meat, made Ella's stomach growl and her mouth water.

  Josiah indicated a room to the right and said, "Front parlor."

  She peeked in. The elegant sofa, chairs and coffee table looked as if they'd been new when the house was built. A dark blue area rug accented the delicate blue flowers on the wallpaper.

  "You match," Jacob said, bumping the back of the hand he held against the light blue and red flowers the widow Katherine had used to make the dress fancier.

  She smiled down at him. "It must mean I belong here."

  He squeezed her hand. "You do."

  Josiah led them deeper into the house. There was a formal dining room, a more casual room with a fireplace. A bathroom and laundry room.

  At the back of the house, Rosa worked alone in a large kitchen with an attached mudroom. She half-turned, shook a long wooden spoon at Josiah and said, "You've got just enough time for a quick tour upstairs before dinner."

  His laugh engulfed Ella's heart. "Fair warning," he told her, drawing her into warm, dark eyes, once again a man she could think of as her husband. "Rosa's not afraid to hit you with that spoon if she thinks you deserve it. And just escaping her territory won't necessarily spare you."

  "What happens if you outrun her?" Jacob asked.

  Josiah's smile was a mesmerizing curve of sensuous lips. "Rosa's got a long memory. Once, when I was nine or ten, I ran from the house and was gone for a whole week on business with my father. But the minute I stepped back into the house—pop! She whacked me."

  Jacob giggled. "And then what?"

  "And then she told me to wash my hands and set the table. And I did it. So maybe we need to hurry and show your new mama the upstairs so we don't get on Rosa's bad side."

  They went upstairs with Jacob in the lead. Like the downstairs, there was a front parlor, though instead of a long couch, it had a loveseat and there was also a small, elegant writing desk.

  They didn't enter Rosa's bedroom or Makayla's but stopped at Jacob's. No dirty clothes lay on the floor.

  The bed was made. And there was a small collection of toys on a low table, neatly organized, as if Jacob was a guest on his best behavior. Or maybe he'd done this to impress his new mother.

  Her throat clogged. She wanted to hug him and promise she'd be the best mother in the world.

  "My book's in the dresser," he said. "Maybe after dinner… Maybe you could read to me?"

  She leaned down and kissed the top of his head. "Absolutely."

  "Go wash," Josiah said to Jacob. "Then see if Rosa wants your help setting the table."

  Jacob looked up into Ella's face. "You'll be right down?"

  "I don't think we want Rosa mad at us," Ella said, though her stomach filled with shivery sensation at the prospect of being alone with Josiah in the master bedroom.

  Slowly, Jacob complied with his father's instructions.

  Ella's mouth went dry at stepping into the very masculine room dominated by a large bed. The satchel her father had carried from the city lay on top of the crates that had come into the warrens through the tunnel.

  Josiah loosened the bolo tie, slipped it over his head and tossed it onto a chair. Her gaze went to his face, dropped to his hands as he freed the top buttons of the light blue shirt.

  Her pulse beat wildly just beneath her jaw. She felt frozen in place, as if time had stopped.

  She'd dreamed of this moment and now it was here. Did it matter that he'd expected Victoria? Did it matter that he still loved Jacob's mother?

  Her heart was gripped by a spasm. She looked away from the strong, masculine hands baring a smooth, muscled chest.

  One of those hands cupped her face and forced her gaze back to his. Sensuous lips curved upwards, hooded eyes didn't hide the heat there. "When it happens, I'll make it good for you, mami."

  He'd stopped unbuttoning his shirt after the first four. From downstairs, Rosa called, "Dinner is ready," and Ella was torn between relief and disappointment.

  On shaky legs she left the bedroom, managed to navigate the stairs without tumbling down them. Alone in the small bathroom, she splashed cool water on her face, tried to get shaky nerves under control.

  When it happens, I'll make it good for you.

  She'd fantasized about the warlord but the reality of him… She splashed more cold water on her face and tried to get the trembling under control. Tried to drive back the ache that came with knowing he loved another, that he'd expected her sister.

  I won't be the first bride who goes to her wedding bed in an arranged marriage.

  The words didn't soothe.

  She dried her face and hands. Cleaned the dusty streaks off the dress and joined the others in the formal dining room.

  Josiah stood at the head of the table. "Here," he said, touching the chair at his right.

  When she'd taken her seat, he sat and loaded her plate with tortillas and chicken, beans and rice. He loaded Jacob's next and then his own.

  "You've met Rosa," he said. "Next to her is my sister, Makayla."

  Resentment still simmered in the beautiful woman's eyes. Ella offered a smile, only to have Josiah's sister turn her face away.

  "Makayla," he said, sharp warning in his voice. "You can do the honors. Pour the sangria."

&nb
sp; She lifted a pitcher filled with a red beverage and sliced fruit. Poured it into heavy crystal glasses, giving Jacob only a fourth of what she gave the adults.

  Josiah lifted his glass. "To Ella, who has pledged her loyalty to this family. Who is now my wife and Jacob's mother."

  They touched glasses, downed the alcoholic beverage.

  Makayla set her glass on the table with a thump and pushed it away. Both Rosa and Josiah gave her reprimanding looks. He said, "You'd prefer not to eat dinner?"

  "Not this—"

  "Makayla wasn't feeling well earlier," Rosa said. "But I'm sure she doesn't want to disappoint Jacob by not staying at the table. Isn't that so?"

  "Yes," Makayla mumbled, sending a guilty look toward Jacob.

  Ella's chest and stomach tightened, though she was glad Makayla cared about Jacob. Ducking her head, she concentrated on eating. Complimented Rosa on the meal.

  They'd just finished dinner when there was a knock on the door.

  Josiah pushed away from the table. "I'll get it."

  He disappeared down the hallway. She thought she recognized Blaine's voice.

  When Josiah returned, he stopped in the doorway. "I have business to attend. It will take me into Rapp's territory."

  He was gone minutes later, leaving her to wonder if he would return before morning. Leaving her eyes stinging and her pride shredded, that on their wedding night he'd gone off, vengeance for the woman he still loved on his mind.

  Makayla left the table, retreating to her room.

  "I'll be back, Mama," Jacob said and raced away.

  Ella stood and gathered dirty plates, taking them to the kitchen.

  Rosa followed and said, "Out. Out."

  Ella left the kitchen.

  Small footsteps pounded down the stairs and Jacob appeared in the hallway with his book. Ella suppressed thoughts of Josiah's leaving and allowed Jacob to lead her to the room with the fireplace.

  They sat on the couch with him snuggled against her. She read the book to him. It was about a boy who excavated rubble and found treasure.

  She reached The End and the hours stretched out in front of her. Would Josiah have been so quick to leave if Victoria was the one he'd married?

  Stop thinking those thoughts. They only add to the hurt.

  She brushed a lock of hair off Jacob's forehead. When she was his age, she'd loved to play Go Fish with the other children in the marketplace.

  She still played the card game, keeping occupied when business was slow at the stall. "I have an idea. How about we play Go Fish?"

  His small shoulders slumped. "I don't know how to play."

  "Then I'll teach you."

  His smile enslaved her heart. She kissed the top of his head. "Stay here. I'll be right back."

  She retrieved a deck of playing cards from the master bedroom. Positioned Jacob on one end of the couch then sat cross-legged on the other, with a cushion between them. After removing the jokers, she shuffled the cards and dealt them each seven, putting the remaining stack in the middle.

  Jacob had snatched his cards as soon as each was dealt. She picked hers up and said, "The object of the game is to make the most books. A book is four cards that are alike, for instance, all the kings, or all the threes. So if I were going first, I might look at my cards and say, 'Give me all your fives.' And if you had fives, you'd have to give them to me. And if you didn't, you'd say, 'Go fish!' Then I'd have to draw a card."

  Jacob bounced on the cushion. "Can I go first?"

  "Yes."

  "Give me all your kings."

  She groaned, pretending to be in pain as she handed over the king of hearts and the king of diamonds.

  Rosa came in with a basket of sewing. She lit additional lanterns so the room remained bright as the darkness outside deepened.

  Jacob won the first game and insisted on another.

  Ella won the second, and then there had to be a third, to serve as a tiebreaker.

  He was struggling to stay awake by the time she'd made seven out of a possible thirteen books, winning the game and the match.

  "Bedtime for you," she said. "We can play again tomorrow."

  He snuggled against her, putting his head on her lap before she could stand. "Will you read to me first?"

  "One more time today," she said, picking up the homemade book and holding it so he could see the illustrations, understanding his not wanting to go to his bedroom alone.

  He was asleep by the time the little boy in the story and his friends had fought off a gang of older children so they could start digging in the rubble for treasure.

  Ella laid the book on the coffee table, combed through the black hair that was the same color as Josiah's. When she looked up, Rosa was watching, her stern features softened by approval.

  "You're good with him," Rosa said. "You're good for him."

  "He already feels like my son."

  Rosa's gaze returned to her sewing. Ella's went to the window.

  Was Josiah still in Rapp's territory? Or had he returned, and gone to his club filled with willing, available women?

  "What was Jacob's mother like?" she asked, unable to hold back the question though she couldn't expose herself by looking at Rosa.

  "Beautiful. Fiery. Passionate. Willful. She was the kind of woman that men die for."

  All the things I'm not.

  Ache rippled outward from her heart. But it was better to know the truth.

  "Were they married?"

  "They were supposed to be." Rosa's clipped tone didn't invite more discussion.

  It was just as well.

  She should carry Jacob to bed, but the thought of going into the master bedroom, of stripping in the darkness, lying awake, her imagination conjuring up images of what Josiah might be doing…

  No. She couldn't bear that.

  She closed her eyes, pictured instead the plants detailed in the book she'd been reading the night her father came home after meeting one of Josiah's men. Now that she was in the warrens, maybe she could see if the plants could be found and harvested from the wild lands beyond Josiah's territory.

  She contemplated possible uses, wondered if Josiah had a room in the stronghold that she could use as a workshop, or if an empty bedroom upstairs could be turned into one, though it'd need a lock to ensure Jacob's safety.

  "Dim the lights?" Rosa eventually asked.

  Ella opened her eyes. "Yes, please."

  Rosa dimmed them and left the room.

  The tears Ella had been holding back came, dripping onto the dress that had been turned into something fitting for a wedding, something that had allowed her to enter the warrens without shame, something that had made her feel more attractive, more worthy, more desirable, more hopeful about her future with Josiah.

  She wasn't beautiful or fiery. She wasn't a woman a man would die for. But she had a son now, and she could prove herself valuable.

  * * * * *

  Chapter 10

  Guilt gnawed at Josiah. It was not a feeing he was accustomed to. It was not an emotion he could afford to reveal, not here, not at home.

  It was further proof that he'd made the right choice to come on foot rather than ride into Rapp's territory like a man in a hurry to get back to his bride. And still, thoughts of Ella's face when he'd said he was leaving added teeth to the guilt gnawing inside his chest.

  Dios, this was exactly what he'd meant to avoid, thoughts of her, the confusion of feelings that'd come when he'd pulled the scarf away and discovered that the woman who'd invaded his fantasies too often was now his bride.

  Distance did not dampen the heat or reduce the urge to reach out and touch her, to pull her into his arms and peel away her clothing. In the heartbeat after he'd seen her face, he'd considered demanding the blonde he'd expected.

  He hadn't.

  For the boy's sake.

  Irritation flashed through him at the lie, knocking aside the guilt. He blocked the return of that guilt with determination. He would not fall prey to
his wife.

  He and his men stopped in front of Rapp's clubhouse door. A dark-skinned soldier carrying a machine gun glanced at the white rags tied on their upper arms. "You and your underlord can go in. The rest stay out here."

  Josiah nodded, indicating his acceptance of the terms. He and Saul entered the clubhouse.

  It reeked of sex and beer and reefer. All around them, Rapp's men were being pleasured by whores.

  The place was rough compared to the elegance of the club where his men hung out, but when the women were let in, the end result was the same.

  He's got a club. That's where Rosa says he is at bedtime.

  The guilt returned, brought by the boy's words and the memory of Ella's protectiveness, the tightened lips and censorious glare that marked his failure as a father.

  Dios. He needed to get and keep her out of his thoughts.

  Rapp sat at a table against the back wall, a black tank top revealing arms sleeved with tattoos. He kissed a blonde while another blonde was on her knees beneath the scarred wood, her mouth wrapped around his cock.

  He waved Josiah forward, reached beneath the table and tugged on the second blonde's hair, pulling her off his dick, the interrupting of pleasure a show of respect.

  She zipped him up and emerged, lips puffy and reddened. And Josiah wondered if perhaps a whore's attention was what he needed to fortify himself against thoughts of his bride.

  He and Saul reached the table. Pulled out chairs and sat, the open room at their backs.

  Rapp lifted a joint from an ashtray on the table. "Tokes? Drinks?"

  "Whiskeys," Josiah said.

  "Three whiskeys," Rapp said to the woman he'd been kissing.

  She left and he took a hit from the joint, gave it to the other woman. "Go."

  Isaac, his second, arrived and dropped onto the bench seat next to Rapp. The blonde sent for drinks returned with three glasses and set them on the table. Left with the flick of Rapp's eyes.

  Josiah knocked back the whiskey. Rapp said, "You intend to go after Krish."