No man should have power over her like that. Except he did. He did because she gave him that power. Gave it to him willingly because she’d begun to need this. His mouth, his tongue on her. His shaft deep inside of her. Her body under his control, even as he let her do what she wished to his.
Her dress, chemise and short stays slipped farther down her body, his big hands tugging the fabric past her hips until all of it dropped to a puddle about her bare feet.
His lips followed the path of her dress, along the side of her ribcage, moving inward over her abdomen to the sensitive spot just above her hip bone. The touch of his fingers drifted up her outer thighs until he clasped both of her buttocks in his hands, holding her steady. Steady, for in the next instant his mouth swooped inward and his tongue delved between her folds. Deeper he went, his lips exploring until he found her nubbin, flickering it with his tongue.
She bucked at the touch, a raw mewl ripping from her throat as she buried both of her hands into his hair.
A swirl followed by a hard suck, back and forth, her body wrenching uncontrollably with every swipe he made. The only thing keeping her upright was his grip on her backside holding her tight to his mouth.
Her body dangerously close to the edge, she tore her hands away from his hair and found his shoulders, pushing him back, almost violently to get him to stop. Licking his lips, he looked up at her, the blue flecks in his grey eyes steaming. Nothing had ever made her want him more.
“No.” She managed to choke out words through the haze of pleasure flooding her body. “You inside me.”
A lascivious chuckle cut a smile across his face and he stood, tearing off his waistcoat and shirt as she frantically unbuttoned his trousers and sent them to the floor.
His clothes gone, he yanked her up from the floor, carrying her over to the bed, and he launched the two of them onto the mattress.
His knees nudged apart her legs as his mouth descended, finding her neck again just as he slammed into her. So full, the girth of him pounding with blood, he pulled out and crashed into her again.
The start of the end was on her in an instant, the mania surging through her body in a frenzy. He paused his strokes for one agonizing second and reached down to grab her calf, and he pulled her leg up high, wedging it against his shoulder.
Access even deeper into her, his name rumbled from her mouth as he drove his cock into her, the gyration against her sex splitting her in two. Heaven and hell. Darkness and light. Pleasure and pain.
And he was still going, unrestrained, the wrath of his body stroking in and out and pushing every one of the waves hitting her to new heights.
Until a scream crested on his lips and his face turned to agony as he pulled out of her. She was ready, her hand clasping onto him as he withdrew, tightening on his shaft as he exploded, his body shaking.
Wicked waves rolling over both of them, they were still, their bodies entangled, gasping for breath. Long. So long until he collapsed down onto her and immediately rolled over, his arms clasping about her and dragging her on top of him, refusing to let her body leave his.
She buried her face into his chest, into the scent of him, for lingering minutes as her breathing paced its way back to normal, her folds still twinging in sporadic shocks of pleasure.
That he had pulled out told her volumes—for as much as Evan might fancy entertaining the idea of a real marriage, he was only willing to go so far. He wasn’t about to chance a child, much less commit to what they could have.
Her chest tightened at the thought. For the tiniest moment, she had been there, hoping. Hope that never should have surfaced.
His hand tangled in her hair, he combed the locks with his fingers. “Would this be so bad, Juliet?”
“What?” She shifted her head to lay her cheek on his skin, watching her fingertips trail along his chest, swirling circles from scar to scar. At least she had his body—for the time being.
“This. Us.” He heaved a sigh, her head riding his chest as his lungs expanded under her. “Keeping that oath to my brother to never marry, to never sire children—I don’t know if it is right.”
Her fingers stilled for a long moment before her head whipped up, her eyes wide as she pushed herself to sit up next to him.
This was the first time she’d ever heard him question the preposterous vow he’d made to Gilroy. The slightest crack in the iron-clad belief he’d constructed his life around.
She held her breath in her chest for a long moment. Time to choose her words carefully. “It’s not right. It never was.” Her hand reached out to cup the side of his jawline. “But it also has nothing to do with me. It has everything to do with what you deserve.”
“And what do I deserve?”
She found the blue flecks in his irises and waited until his look met hers. “Happiness.”
His eyes closed, his head shaking slightly. “I’m not sure what I deserve.” The words cracked from his mouth in a low rumble.
Her thumb rubbed along the ruff of the dark stubble along his cheek. “You are the finest man I’ve ever met, Evan. Don’t doubt that. Don’t doubt what you deserve to have in life.”
He winced and, with a sudden breath, he jerked away from her, untangling his legs from under hers and leaving the bed. Reaching for his trousers, he shoved his feet through the legs and into boots, and then tugged on his lawn shirt.
Without another glance at her, he moved toward the door fastening the fall front of his trousers. “I need to find my brother. After what happened today…I have to see him.”
In the next instant, he was gone.
Gone and she didn’t have the slightest inkling what he was thinking.
About her. About them.
About the future—or the lack of one.
{ Chapter 22 }
Evan tromped up the circular staircase of the north tower. Boots clomping onto stone step after stone step. His right hand dragging along the smooth curved inner stones, he hadn’t bothered to bring a candle with him, for he knew these steps in the dark as well as he did in the daylight.
What the hell had he been thinking? That he could play at this? Actually marry Juliet and not want her? Not want her body and soul and mind and setting as many of his babes into her as she would dare to carry?
Lunacy.
A divorce would be easy he’d said.
And if it was what she wanted, he’d grant her that.
But not before doing his damnedest to change her mind.
To make her stay married to him.
An unclouded path before him, where there never had been one before.
Nothing in his life had ever been so easy to recognize, to understand, than the thought of her as his wife.
No matter the consequences to everyone around him. To Gilroy. To the only oath he’d ever made in his life.
He’d known it the moment he’d said “I do.” He wanted her. For real. That belief only verified when he had sunk his shaft into her minutes ago and it’d been like nothing he’d ever experienced before—soul shattering—so much so he’d had to leave the room. His every breath, every heartbeat had been dependent on her pleasure. His only goal in life to make her come so hard her soul shattered along with his. To make her happy or he would utterly fail as a man.
Finally accepting the fact that he wanted her for all of time had given him that. Clarity of purpose.
His left hand went down to readjust his cock. Damn that the mere thought of her writhing under him made him hard. Not the time.
Evan’s right foot hit the well-worn dip in the uneven step three from the top, and he paused for a moment, steeling his spine. Confronting his brother’s rage on this would take every wit he had, and half his wits were currently hovering about his cock.
Five deep breaths and he forged upward to the top floor of the tower, then went straight through the open door at his left.
A lantern on the chest of drawers by the doorway lent a glow to the room, but most of the light came from the three-quarters
full moon through the two tall windows that were both wide open to the night air. Gilroy did that, liked to sit up here with the windows open, hoping birds would fly in. Fly in and take him far away from Whetland. He’d always come up here, hiding away, ever since they were young children.
His brother sat in a wooden chair lined with red velvet by the right window, his legs crossed and lounging straight out in front of him, the heels of his boots resting on the sill of the window. He’d lost his coat and waistcoat, the sleeves of his lawn shirt rolled up to his elbows.
A drink in his left hand, he’d already drained half of the decanter that sat on the chest of drawers by the lantern.
“Brother.” Evan stopped in the middle of the room.
Gilroy didn’t turn his head, his stare angled to the night sky. “Ye betrayed me.”
“I didn’t know it was coming, Gil. Walking into the solarium and seeing that was just as much a shock to me as it was to you. I never would have let grandfather concoct it.”
Gilroy’s face swung to him, his eyes narrowing as he sliced Evan in two with his glare. “Except you got what you wanted since the moment you showed up here with that whore. I saw it in ye. I saw it from the start, what you were planning.”
Evan seethed a silent breath. “She’s not a whore.”
“Says you.” He shook his head, taking a swallow of his drink. “You could have refused. You didn’t have to marry her. You don’t have to do every damn thing the mad old curmudgeon says.”
“Grandfather isn’t mad. He’s wicked canny, yes, but not mad, not yet.” Evan ran his hand over his eyes. “You dinnae ken—”
“Oh, I do ken.” Gilroy jumped to his feet, advancing toward Evan. “I ken your oath—your honor—means nothing.”
“Gil, I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“I’ve heard that story my whole damn life—you never mean for things to happen, do you?” He stopped, his toes shoving into Evan’s boots and he glared up at him. “You made me into this—a puny weakling—so you get to suffer the burden of it, just as I do. You ate me, brother. You ate away at me in the womb. You never meant for that to happen, yet look at ye. Look at me.” His palm slammed against Evan’s chest.
Evan caught his wrist, wrenching it away from him. “Gil, you cannot—”
“I cannot what?” He twisted his wrist out of Evan’s hold and spun away, his arm swinging wide. “Remind you of the truth? Remind you of why ye made the oath in the first place?”
He gulped a swallow of his drink and twisted back to Evan. “Tell me, brother, what is a man without his word? Without his honor?” His voice dipped into a vicious snarl. “What would father say?”
Evan heaved a breath, unclenching both of his fists that had instinctively curled. Ignore the words. Ignore them.
He took a step toward his brother. Gilroy was beyond furious, so it wasn’t a loss if Evan said what he came up here to tell him. “I’ll not lie to you now, Gil. I want her. I want her as my wife.”
He held his brother’s stare for long, excruciating seconds. Watched the betrayal playing out across his brother’s face and he was no force to stop it.
His words low, menacing, Gilroy backed away from Evan. “You do this—you stay with her—and I have no choice.” He turned and jumped up onto the sill of the window, his right hand grabbing the stone lining the side of the opening. His left hand holding his drink swung out, waving into the night air.
Evan’s hands lifted, palms to his brother to calm as his feet crept forward. “There is always a choice, Gil.”
“No. You don’t live in this body. You don’t live in this life, so ye don’t know. There is nothing left for me if you stay with her. If you get her with child.”
“You’re needed here at Whetland—you always will be.”
“There’s nothing I do that any one of our cousins can’t do in my stead. You don’t need me, brother, and that’s the hard truth of it. You tried to get rid of me when we were babes, and now you’ll have your wish.” He leaned farther out of the window, only two of his fingers holding him from falling, straining against the stone.
Evan could take no more and grabbed Gilroy’s wrist, yanking him back into the room. “Except I do need you. I need my brother.”
Gilroy stumbled a few steps across the room, but managed to keep his drink upright, not spilling a drop. His balance back about him, he stood straight and looked at Evan as his shoulders lifted and he drained the rest of his glass. “You don’t, for if ye did need me, you never would have married that whore. You would already be working on getting rid of her instead of coming up here and telling me how much you want her. Instead of taking her into your bed and making her scream. You don’t need me and you’ve just been biding your time to break your oath. To take the only thing I had from me. Just remember that when you’re shoveling dirt onto my grave. Remember the type of man you are. No honor.”
Gilroy dropped the tumbler onto the floor, the glass shattering into thousands of shards. With a sneer on his face, he turned and left the room.
Evan stared at the open door for long seconds, his breath heaving.
There was nothing for it. He’d let this happen. Let all of it happen and now Gilroy was paying for it.
Gilroy. Juliet. There was no choosing one over the other, for he was a bastard with either choice. A man with no honor.
And that had been the only thing he’d always had. Honor.
He walked over to the chest of drawers to pick up and sniff the decanter that Gilroy had brought up with him. Brandy.
His chest heavy, Evan set the lip of the decanter to his lips and let the liquid drain down his throat.
Praying the answer would be at the bottom of the bottle.
Knowing that none would appear.
{ Chapter 23 }
He’d been gone too long.
Hours.
Hours and Evan hadn’t returned to his chamber.
Juliet stared at the dark grey velvet of the bed canopy that hung above her. Simple, not much to stare at except for the gathering of folds along the edges. A blank canvas that did her imagination no good.
For all that Evan wouldn’t entertain the idea of his brother having any ill intentions, she harbored a healthy dose of mistrust. Wherever Gilroy was concerned, Evan put his brother first, even if it was to his own detriment.
But how far would Gilroy dare to go? The wedding could have very well sent him over the edge. He wouldn’t dare hurt Evan, would he?
If he was holding a bow and arrow…maybe it was a very real possibility.
The more time dragged on, the more worry Juliet nursed in the pit of her stomach, staring at the canopy.
Heaving a sigh, she tugged back the sheet she’d been ensconced under and set her feet to the floor. Best to find Evan, see with her own eyes that he was fine to relieve her worry, or she wouldn’t get a wink of sleep.
She slipped back into her chemise and dress and stared at her boots for a long moment. Best to put them on in case she was forced to search outside the castle for Evan.
Lighting a candle from the fire and setting it under the glass of a lamp, she set out into the castle. The corridor of their rooms, empty. Down the stairs and into every room on the main level of the castle—the study, library, great hall, billiards room, solarium, both drawing rooms. No Evan. No Gilroy.
She scurried back up the stairs, realizing she never looked in the hall where Ness and Gilroy’s bedrooms were situated.
Creeping along the corridor as quietly as her boots on the thick wooden planks would allow, she cocked her head, listening for the slightest sound in front of Gilroy’s room. Silence. She stepped in front of Ness’s door and heard feet shuffle across the floor.
Maybe Ness had seen Gilroy in the last hours.
Juliet knocked on the door.
No response, so she opened the door a crack to peek in.
The room was empty, except—no, Ness was by the window.
The open window. The two tall hinged w
indows spread wide, jutting out into the night.
Her right hand gripped the side of the jamb, her left bare foot on the bottom sill as she lifted herself upwards.
Ready to jump.
The lamp crashing to the floor, Juliet charged forward, lunging, her arm swinging out around Ness’s waist just as she hurled herself outward.
The momentum of Juliet’s tackle was enough to knock both of them into the side of the open window and they tumbled inward, crashing onto the floor of the room with arms and dresses and legs tangled.
“What the hell are you thinking, Ness?” Juliet’s scream filled the room as she tried to extract herself from Ness’s limbs.
“It’s the only way out—the only way.” Ness screeched back, her voice a hiss.
Pushing Ness off of her chest, Juliet scrambled upright, moving to her knees. In that moment, the hair fell away from Ness’s face.
Juliet froze, her voice a trembling whisper. “That bloody bastard.”
Ness fell backward onto her bottom, looking away from Juliet.
“Dammit, Ness. Your face.” She scanned her friend’s face. Her cheeks and eyes so bruised, cut and swollen that Ness could only open her right eye.
Juliet looked to the rest of Ness’s body, her breath catching at the blood-splattered blue dress.
“Hell, your arm—that’s not right.” Juliet’s hand flew out, her fingertips touching Ness’s left forearm that was hanging unnaturally crooked from her elbow.
Ness jerked back at the touch, a scream escaping her lips.
Juliet’s hands flew up, palms to her. “Stop, Ness. Stop. I won’t touch you. I understand. Everything hurts on you. Everything. I understand. I can see it.”
“Why didn’t you let me jump?” The screech stayed in Ness’s voice. “Why? It could be over. Over. Right now it would be over.”
“No—I would never let you do that. Never.” Her hand went down, her fingertips setting onto Ness’s knee, hoping it wasn’t bruised and broken as well. At her touch, Ness didn’t wince. Small favor. “What happened?”
Wicked Exile (An Exile Novel Book 2) Page 15
