Dangerous Exile (An Exile Novel Book 3)

by K. J. Jackson

  Men’s food, thick in her stomach.

  She’d already added a reasonable layer to her frame—the bones that had started to poke through her skin weeks ago after eating so little were now receding. Useful, for she didn’t know what her future held and lean times could very well be her lot once she was safe to leave the Alabaster.

  Ness smiled as Verity stood straight, smoothing her apron as she turned to the door. She liked the young woman—close to her age, if she were to guess. Verity had been nothing but kind to her, bringing her the finest soaps, ribbons and pins for her hair, a hairbrush, and books to read. She was always unassuming, but saw details that needed to be tended to.

  Verity was pretty with delicate features—something one could only see when her head lifted from the bow she always held it in. Her green eyes were almost always downcast, and the first time that Ness had seen them straight on she’d been startled. A green so pure and bright it looked like a springtime field under the full sun. The dark cap she always wore on her head covered her hair completely, but Ness had occasionally noticed a few strands of dark red hair poking out from under the brim of the cap. Verity would probably be not only pretty, but quite beautiful if her hair wasn’t severely pulled out of view and the innate sadness lifted from her cheeks.

  Ness stood from her chair by the fireplace, holding her book against her belly. “Verity, if I may?”

  Verity stopped and turned around, her head tilted down but her look lifted to Ness with her eyebrows raised.

  “I have a question about the Alabaster. Are there other women here?”

  Verity’s head tilted to the side, her eyebrows drawn together to indicate she didn’t understand the question.

  “Other women with big bosoms.” Heavy with the splint and bandages that wrapped her elbow to palm, Ness’s left arm lifted, the tips of her fingers motioning to the air in front of her own breasts.

  Verity lifted her shoulders.

  “Whores?” The word came sour off Ness’s tongue, but she had no other name for it. She didn’t want to use the word, as she’d been pondering it ever since she’d learned that Juliet had been the madame of a brothel. Knowing Juliet and where she’d come from, yet what a decent and kind woman she was, had made Ness start to rethink a lot of things she thought she knew about the workings of life. The word whore now seemed crass to Ness, a label uttered in haste as a slur against women who were, in reality, just trying to find a way to live into the next day with what little assets they had.

  Verity’s green eyes widened and she shook her head. Shook it vehemently.

  Ness’s forehead wrinkled. “No women work here for…sexual favors?”

  Verity continued to shake her head.

  Ness exhaled, nodding, confused. “I see.”

  What kind of a gaming hell didn’t have women available for pleasure? She’d assumed all the women she could see in the main gaming room from high in Talen’s office were for hire.

  Maybe they were just for looks. Men did like women fawning over them. Genuine or not, men didn’t seem to much care.

  The door opened and a head poked into the room. Declan.

  “Verity, I was looking for you. We need you in the fleur-de-lis room to ready the bed, if you would, please?”

  Verity’s head immediately bowed and she nodded toward the floor, stepping out past Declan into the hallway.

  Confusion still etched Ness’s brow. “Declan?” She blurted out before he closed the door and disappeared.

  He half stepped into the room, the rest of his body staying behind the heavy wooden door. “Yes?”

  She hadn’t spoken much to Declan, but from what she had, she guessed that she might get answers from him that Talen had been vague about. “I was curious—I assumed this was a whorehouse as well as a gaming house, but then I guess I was wrong. Or am I right?”

  The right side of his face pulled back into almost a cringe. “That would be a better question for Tal, Ness.”

  “But I’m asking you.”

  He shrugged his shoulders.

  “Fine, then let me ask you a different question since you’re here.”

  To her surprise, Declan didn’t scamper from the chamber like he did every time she was in a room with Talen. In this bedroom, in Talen’s office. Instead, he moved into the chamber, closing the door, and then sat on the arm of the plush chair by the doorway, his hands landing on his thighs. Not committing to staying for more than a moment, but at least giving her the courtesy of his attention.

  That he did so reaffirmed her like of him. He was easier than Talen. Lighter.

  His right hand on his thigh flipped up. “Hit me.”

  “You have known Talen for a long time?”

  “Yes, since our time on the Royal Navy ship together.”

  “Were you there when he first appeared on the ship?”

  Declan paused, his eyes slightly narrowing at her, instantly cautious. “Yes.”

  She ignored his guarded voice. “Where did he come from?”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “Where do any of us come from? The streets. Parents that drop us off at the docks then never come back. Or stolen from a field and stuffed in a sack. We come from everywhere. We come from nowhere.”

  “How did you end up on the ship?”

  His mouth closed, his stare went blank on her—not answering that question.

  The exact same blank stare Talen gave her when she asked questions he wasn’t going to answer. The two of them must have practiced the look at each other when they were young to have perfected it so.

  She nodded to herself, turning half around to set the book on her chair, then spun back to him. “So Talen appeared and you became friends?”

  An easy smile came to Declan’s face. “I had to. No one can fight like him. I knew early on it’d be better to have him as my best friend than my enemy.”

  “You’re scared of him?”

  He chuckled, shaking his head. “No. Not now. Maybe once upon a time I was. But that was before I knew him. What he can destroy with his fists didn’t much matter to me a long time ago. To me, he’s just Tal and he’s earned my loyalty a thousand times over in the years I’ve known him.”

  Her chest suddenly felt lighter.

  For all she was trying to navigate just who exactly Talen was now, that he had at least one loyal friend made her breathe a bit easier.

  Her breath wouldn’t hitch at all if he would just admit he knew her once upon a time. She wasn’t even sure if he was lying about remembering his past or not. But it made no sense to lie about it.

  So that left her with one question. Why had Talen forgotten everything of who he was?

  But his friend couldn’t help her there.

  She smiled at Declan. “Thank you. Thank you for staying for the moment and talking to me.”

  He inclined his head to her, then pushed off from the chair and left the room.

  Ness stood, staring at the door for a long time.

  There was only one person that could answer her questions about Talen’s past.

  Talen.

  And he wasn’t talking.

  { Chapter 8 }

  “Take another drink, you’re panting.”

  Ness gasped in a quick breath, licking her lips. “You’re making me work hard.” With pillow feathers still floating from high in the air down about her head, Talen watched Ness sit on the edge of a hard caned chair and pick up the teacup from the side table. The tea long since cooled, she took several sips, as proper as if she were poised in a Mayfair drawing room—not sitting above his gaming hell with tufts of white feathers landing starkly against her dark hair.

  The pillow that she’d just destroyed against the blade Talen had approached her with had been a brilliant move. The pillow had protected her hand while snagging the dagger and giving her a chance to yank it out of his hand. Plus, an explosion of feathers had filled the air. More precious seconds for her to run from an attacker.

  An odd mixture of pride and surprise fill
ed him. She’d done well. Not enough to set her onto the streets of the rookeries, but she would be able to survive for far longer than she would have when they first started this. That was key.

  She glanced to her left, plucking several feathers off her shoulder. Good thing there wasn’t a mirror in his office or Talen would be watching her pluck feathers from her head for some time, for as many as had attached into her loose chignon.

  She did that, he’d realized during the past days. She was always conscious of how she was presenting herself, how she looked. Innate movements she couldn’t control. Whether or not she was sitting properly. How straight her spine was. How smooth her hair lay. Someone had trained her well long ago for a life of privilege. Someone else had demanded perfection of her since then.

  His stare should have moved off of her seconds ago, but he couldn’t quite do it.

  It didn’t help that she was entirely too fetching. She’d been a prize for some peer—probably the same man that had broken her. Though how any man could have bruised a face like hers was beyond him.

  To destroy such beauty. Sacrilege.

  And to see such beauty sitting in the mess of his office, her cheeks flush from training with him, her peculiar amber eyes aglow with adrenaline, feathers landing in her hair—all of it made the crux of him twinge alive when he needed to keep his cock down and on the narrow.

  He didn’t want her. Couldn’t want her.

  Juliet had sent Ness to him to protect. Not to bed.

  He wasn’t about to sabotage this mission, for heaven knows what Juliet would demand of him next time if he failed to keep Ness safe. And taking Ness into his bed would not be safe. For either of them.

  Setting her cup down on the side table, she scooted deeper on the chair and leaned back, letting her shoulders touch the rear of the chair. The motion looked uncomfortable, even though he could see she was attempting to relax for a moment and catch her breath.

  She looked up at him. “Why do you not let me from my room except when you come and get me? I am itching to escape those four walls, and while your office is a nice change of pace, it would be interesting to see what other rooms are in this building.”

  Stalling with conversation, as she liked to do. He liked to keep her on her toes, keep the blood pumping in her veins. She liked to take breaks and rest.

  But there was no rest if someone was attacking you. He knew that well. A fact he hadn’t been able to quite convince her of.

  “The books have not kept you entertained?”

  “I appreciate them, I do. But one can only stare at words on paper for so long. These training bouts with you are the only thing that has kept my mind from turning to complete porridge during these last days. It would just be nice to expand the tiny world my life has become.”

  “No.” He shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “Your room. My office. That is the extent of your realm. The rest of this place—it is not for a woman such as yourself.”

  “Weak?”

  “Innocent.”

  She sighed, her head angling to the side as she stared up at him. “I’m not as innocent as you believe.”

  “No?” All of the feathers had finally floated to the ground and he kicked through them on the floor until he found his dagger by the tattered remains of the blue silk pillow. He bent down to pick it up and slipped it into the sheath alongside his boot. “What’s a drop-cove? What’s a skin? A gull? A bravo? A snaffler?” He stood straight, looking at her.

  Her mouth quirked to the right side in an annoyed smile. She lifted her shoulders.

  “Make no mistake, you’re an innocent, Ness. And I know Juliet meant to keep you so. She may have sent you here, but she sure as hell didn’t intend for you to be corrupted.”

  “Why did she send me to you?”

  “Because she’s smart. She knew I could do what she wanted.”

  A slow nod bobbed her head, then she stilled, her amber eyes suddenly searching his face. “Juliet—you are enamored with her?”

  “A ridiculous question.” Talen strode across the room and picked up the new decanter of brandy. The red-brown liquid slid along the inside of the smooth glass neck as he poured himself a drink and he realized he actually liked this decanter more than the one Ness broke the day before. Such fine brandy had spilled all over the floor. He’d been lucky that he’d dodged the swing of the decanter in time, or the cut glass would have sliced his forehead deep. He’d created somewhat of a monster in Ness. She now had no trouble in destroying everything in this room.

  Except for the books. She’d never once endangered a book.

  “Is it ridiculous?”

  He picked up the glass tumbler with his left hand and turned back to Ness, leaning against the sideboard. “Isn’t everyone that meets Juliet enamored with her?”

  A chuckle escaped through a smile that turned her full lips soft. “Yes, I suppose. She has a genuine charm about her that wraps one up—her soul actually cares about others, and that is a rarity.”

  “Aye, it is.”

  Ness picked up her teacup and took another sip, her eyes intent on him over the lip of the china. “The favor she called in on me, what made you owe her? How did she help you?”

  He stared at her for a long second, then took the tiniest sip of his brandy. “I’ll tell you if you tell me.”

  “Tell you what?”

  He wasn’t about to let her play ignorant. “You know.”

  Her lips opened in a long exhale and she looked away from him at the line of windows. No activity below, as it would still be hours before the first patrons arrived for the evening’s gaming.

  A quick breath and she sighed out a whisper. “Fine.”

  “Fine?”

  Her gaze swung back to him. “Fine.” Her right hand holding the teacup fell to rest on her lap and her lips pulled inward for a long second. “It was my husband that did this to me, though I’m sure you already deduced that.”

  Her face had pinched at the words, a flush creeping into her cheeks. Shame.

  The blood in his veins instantly boiled. Why innocent women always seemed to feel shame after being beaten by a man, he’d never been able to figure.

  His suspicion that she was married confirmed. Another man’s property. “Who is your husband?”

  “Gilroy Docherty.” Her look dropped from him to the floor in front of the fireplace. “He’s the grandson of the Earl of Whetland and he’s a vicious, evil bastard. I knew it within the first months of our marriage, but I was stuck in a cavernous, cold castle in Scotland with him. His power and reach stretch far and wide. There was no escape. He’d always been good at bruising me in places that were easily hidden by clothes. But the last time—this last time when he broke my arm and pummeled my face he didn’t care. He didn’t care what showed to the world for he was going to kill me anyway.”

  Talen’s right hand curled into a fist. “The bastard was going to kill you?”

  “He was done with me. I knew it days before he attacked me. What he was planning…I could see it in his eyes. He was a spider on a web, circling for days, deciding the best way it would be to dispose of me without anyone questioning it.”

  Her voice wavering, her chest lifted high. “Then when he attacked, he swore he was going to kill me. I was worthless to him, not able to give him a babe, an heir. I lost two—two in the last four years.”

  Her eyes filled with thick tears that overflowed quickly, uncontrolled streams down her cheeks as her voice dropped to a whisper. “The last one was formed, but he came too early. He was formed so well I could hold him. Hold him in my hand. He was so tiny, but everything was there. There for me to hold. I wanted him. Wanted him so badly.”

  She paused for a long moment, the tears ceasing before she drew in a sharp breath. “Losing that babe broke me so thoroughly I knew Gilroy could never truly hurt me again. And the only reason I was able to walk through that pain was because Juliet appeared. Appeared out of nowhere and walked with me, an angel pulling me
away from the edge of hell. For days she sat by my side when I was willing myself to die. If not for her stubbornness, I doubt I ever would have moved from that bed.”

  A crack zigzagged down his chest, the pain he saw in her striking him raw. He’d seen pain like this before, but it had never moved into his own body like that, making him feel it just as keenly—the brokenness.

  The lump in his throat raw, he had to take a sip of brandy before he could speak. “That is one of Juliet’s magical traits. Stubbornness.”

  A sad smile flashed across Ness’s face. “I don’t know if she should have wasted her magic on me.” Her shoulders lifted high. “Maybe I am worthless. Maybe I should have stayed and let Gilroy do what he was determined to. Maybe I shouldn’t have let Juliet convince me there were more days to live where the pain wouldn’t consume. Let her convince me there was an escape from him.”

  With each word, her voice sank into such defeat he wanted to shake her. Shake her until the fire and mirth she’d been in moments ago reappeared. Shake her until she looked around and saw there was still a world to live in—days where she could breathe and live and smile again.

  He’d seen it in her, the smiles and laughter she was capable of. Smiles and laughter that had hidden all of this fear and terror from him for the last fortnight.

  But at least now he finally had a name from her. The bastard she needed to be protected from.

  His stare cut into her. “There is always an escape, Ness. You just need to know how to seize it.”

  “That’s what you’re teaching me?”

  “I hope. There’s always a way out. Always another day to live, as long as you trust it’s there for you.”

  The fingertips of her left hand lifted to clear the wetness from her cheeks as her eyes lifted to him. “I am trying, Talen. I am. Even if it’s other people’s faith that I’ve been living upon these past weeks. Juliet’s. Yours. You both have wills that can move mountains, spit at death.”

  He lifted his glass to her. “For good or for bad, sometimes. I don’t know when to stop and I don’t always know how it will turn out.”