Chapter Twenty-Two
Her lips were as sweet as heaven.
He’d called her bitter. Thought her blinded by anger.
She was a damn queen.
“The tea,” she said against his lips.
“Not coming,” he growled, sealing his lips over hers again.
A moment more and she pulled back, breaking the kiss. He let her go because the thrum of violence was still in his veins.
His gaze went to where the sniveling dog had disappeared out the parlor door, and Jackson weighed the consequences of hunting the mutt and putting him down. “Was he one of the things you’ve faced?” he asked, his voice barely a growl.
“Yes.”
His fists clenched. “Tell me.”
“After Papa died and our aunt became seriously ill, William and I were sent to Greenhill, my uncle’s home.”
Jackson frowned. “Then that night, the night you visited after being gone so long?”
“My aunt’s funeral.”
He cursed. All this time. He’d been miserable those months she’d been away. That night she’d shown up outside his window teary-eyed and pale, he’d thought it proof of her feelings. That the months had been agony for them both. And he’d proposed without a thought.
“The beatings . . . they started almost immediately.” Her jaw clenched as if remembering.
Jackson’s did too. It was to the deceased baronet’s benefit he was no longer breathing, because Jackson would have taken his time exacting revenge.
His jaw was locked so hard, his next question came out garbled. “And your cousin?”
Anna shook her head. “He wasn’t excluded, but my uncle made sure not to raise a hand to his son where my brother and I could see.
Uncle would go so far as to critique Alexander’s insults toward us.
Saying they were too tame, not pointed enough.
To us, Uncle was grooming his son to be just like him.
I hated him. Hated them both for how they treated my brother and me.
And when William got his commission into the army, I was relieved he would be spared.
If my brother was safe, then I could handle my cousin’s abuse.
Because one day, I would see justice done.
That’s what I told myself.” Lines appeared around her mouth.
“Until I witnessed the cruelty my uncle saved for my cousin.”
Her hands came up to cover her face as if to block out the images of memory.
“I’d been hiding in one of the house’s closets, doing my best to stay out of sight.
I’d heard heavy footsteps, two pairs. Then crying.
Sounds of a struggle. And when I rallied my courage to peek through a crack in the door .
. .” A tear fell down her cheek. Her eyes, when they lifted to him, were large, brave, so filled with compassion and forgiveness.
The rest was too awful to say aloud.
“And Elise?” Jackson asked. The unfamiliar name a piece of the puzzle that didn’t fit.
“Elise is my chaperone,” Anna said. “And she is my cousin.”
Jackson startled. “I didn’t know Lady Crews had a daughter.”
“She didn’t.” Anna’s smile was sad. “Elise Greene.”
Alexander’s sister.
“Elise spent many summers with me and William at our aunt’s manor in Widmore,” Anna explained.
“One summer, she never arrived. She’d gone missing.
We all helped in the search, but Elise had vanished.
” Anna’s expression fell again. “It wasn’t until my aunt had passed and William and I were delivered to Greenhill and suffered under my uncle’s hand that I understood Elise wasn’t missing; she’d run away.
“I was overjoyed when Elise showed up on my brother’s doorstep after he’d gained his title, and we’d moved to London. But Elise was worried her father would learn of her presence. So, I kept her identity a secret.”
“And your cousin decided to pose as your chaperone,” Jackson finished.
Anna nodded. “I didn’t mind. Having her in my life was like having my family given back to me.”
A family more complicated than Odysseus. Or was that Oedipus?
Jackson hadn’t imagined the look of despair—and hope—on the new baronet’s face when Elise was mentioned. “Alexander and Elise were close?”
Anna nodded. “Alexander was always a bully, but whenever Elise’s name came up, I saw his worry. His rebellions toward my uncle were small, but I always thought the times Alexander refused to follow his father’s orders were out of anger he’d driven Elise away.”
A brother who loved his sister.
Something Anna would understand.
“You forgave your cousin a long time ago?” Jackson said, humbled all over again at her capacity for love.
A small smile. “It seems the only grudges I hold are against handsome would-be dukes with no familial connection.”
“Thank God for your stubbornness,” he said, pressing a kiss to her temple. She’d never forgotten him. Never compromised in expecting the best of him.
It all made sense now. His arms tightened around her. “You said no for my sake, didn’t you? To spare any connection to your uncle’s family?” To stop what would have no doubt turned into multiple attempts at extortion.
A small sob escaped through her lips. “Yes.”
Jackson held her close, allowing himself a moment to simply hold his remarkable wife. Beautiful, strong, wife who’d been protecting him this whole time. Another mark against that sniveling dog, another reason to hunt him to extinction.
But Anna wouldn’t want that. His insulting, angry wife had a heart of gold beneath her breast.
They stood like that, chests and hearts pressed together. Closer than ever.
He hated himself for ruining the moment after her resounding triumph—and his decision to let the weasel go—but he had to ask, “Do you think your cousin had anything to do with your uncle’s death or your brother’s disappearance?”
There was no hesitation. “No. My cousin is many things.” Bully, coward, victim. Jackson filled in the blanks. “But he is no killer.”
Jackson nodded. Seeing that gutless pissant behind bars would go a long way in quieting his need for vengeance at the injustices done, but there was also a sense of rightness in allowing Anna to shut the door on her past.
She need not see her cousin ever again.
Jackson would make it his personal mission in life.
And yet he himself was not blameless in her difficulties.
He took a deep breath. “I don’t work with the Home Office. I run one of the largest covert teams in England.”
A huff against his chest. “I’m shocked,” she said, sounding nothing of the sort.
He shook his head. Of course she’d figured it out. “I think I was afraid you would look at me differently.”
She said nothing.
His arms tightened around her. “Please, say something.”
“So.” She dragged out the word and pulled back so he could see her scrunched nose. “This is why you’ve never had the time to read the classics.”
His surprise came out in a short huff of laughter. “How I’d love to blame king and country, but I’m afraid you pegged me right the first time. I was a terrible student.”
She snorted. “I would’ve taken the inattention of a duke’s son over the terror of my cousin any day.”
Mention of the maggot had ice chasing away the warmth in his chest.
“If I’d known . . .” If he’d had but an inkling. “I would have done so many things differently—”
“I wouldn’t have seen you,” she admitted.
They’d been so close. For so long, he’d thought she’d turned him down because her feelings had been familial toward him.
A lie he’d told himself countless times to lessen the heartbreak.
“I should have known. Should have trusted our feelings. I should have fought harder. Been there, every day, showing you my devotion. If I’d been there, you would have told me what your family was like. ”
“You had your own demons to battle.”
There she was, instantly ridding him of blame again.
He would have stopped at nothing to see her safe. “We would have stolen away.”
“And what? Been married in secret and disowned by your father? Penniless and ostracized.” She shook her head. “Neither of us would have been happy with that.”
“But we would have been together.” He grabbed her hands and pressed them to his chest. “I would have found a way to protect you. No.” He gritted his teeth.
“We would have found a way together. Our beginnings may have been humble, but there isn’t a world in which having you as my wife doesn’t make me the richest of men. I’m better for you, for being myself.”
A tear fell down her cheek, and he kissed it away and pulled her tighter to his chest.
“All those years ago, I should have listened to you when you said you couldn’t leave.” Couldn’t escape. Not without leaving her brother to Sir Daniel’s evil.
He’d thought her refusal had been a rejection of him. But she’d refused so his name wouldn’t be tarnished, so they wouldn’t lose their family’s love. No great loss when it came to Jackson’s mother and father. But Figaro? To never know his younger brother. The ridiculous, loyal pup.
“What a fool I’ve been,” Jackson said.
A wet sniff. Her curls tickling his neck as she shook her head. “We were both too stubborn to see our futures clearly. I wasn’t prepared to take on the battle with your family any more than I was to face the ruination of my own.”
“Don’t,” he said, cradling her closer still. “None of this is your fault.”
She stilled in his arms.
Overcome.
Jackson patted her back, more reassurances crowding his mouth. “You are blameless—”
Two lovely, gloved hands pushed at his chest. Hard.
Her expression was nothing short of livid.
“‘Blameless’?” Not overcome, it seemed. She stuck a finger in his face.
“Now see here. I am stubborn, opinionated, incapable of withholding my insults. For better or worse, husband, there will be no more one-sided anything in this marriage. If you are at fault, then I am equally culpable. When we argue—”
“No chance of if in that statement, I see.”
“—we will fight and resolve our issues together. You will tell me when I am being reckless, and I will—”
“Constantly beard this lion in his den?” Jackson smiled down at the woman he’d never lock out.
A single gesture of her hand, her palm pressed over her heart, a code he needed no cipher to crack: Affection. Care.
He was shaky drawing in air. Not only that. Hands unsteady, he cradled her face and pressed his forehead to hers. “I need to tell you something.”
“We’ve done so much talking already.” She smiled. “We used to never need words to say what we meant.”
He pulled back, needing her to see as well as hear. “Not this time. Some things must be spoken out loud.”
The green eyes staring up at him were patient, tender. “I’m listening.”
“I love you.”
“I know.” At his furrowed brows, she explained, “The marks on the lampposts.”
“Red is a becoming color.” He kissed her upturned lips. Once. Twice. In quick succession. “I’ve always loved you. Since I was a boy. There’s never been anyone else for me. Never.”
“Jack.”
“I’ve been ripped open since you left. A man wounded.
My work with the Home Office has been a tourniquet, stopping the bleeding, but only just. Without you, the pain won’t go away.
I won’t ever heal—” He ran a hand through his hair, realizing what he was saying.
“God, I’m a fool.” Wounds and blood. “This isn’t romantic at all. ”
“Shh.” Her soft lips were wet and tasted of salt when she pressed them to his. “Surviving but not living,” she said against his mouth, more tears spilling. She knew what he was saying. “I love you too.”
His heart swelled. He dragged her against him and buried his face in her hair, his own eyes burning. She loved him.
Her nails raked along his arm, but the words she whispered in his ear were feather soft. “This snake you spoke of?”
‘Snake’? He hadn’t mentioned anything about a reptile—
Jackson stopped breathing. “Yes?”
The look in her eye when she pulled back, it was pure temptation.
“Will you show me how to pet it to its satisfaction?”
“Bloody hell, yes!”
She giggled as he scooped her into his arms.
Finally, finally, he’d take his delicious duchess to bed.
Knock knock.
Or not.
“For heaven’s sake!” Jackson said. “What now?”
The parlor door opened, and their butler entered carrying a silver tray with a single envelope.
“A letter, Your Grace,” the servant said.
“And?” Jackson snapped.
“And the messenger is waiting, sir.”
Curiosity took the edge off his frustration. Refusing to set down his wonderful wife, Jackson snatched the letter and broke the seal with one hand.
He read the contents.
Then read them again.
“What is it?” Anna asked.
Jackson dropped the letter onto a side table, his gut twisting. “I’ve been summoned by the Black Widow.” And at the exact perfect moment Sir Alexander had left . . . barely an hour after the woman had sent Jackson to intercept Anna’s cousin.
He smelled another game taking place, and Jackson wasn’t keen to know which piece he’d played on the board.
“Mrs. Dove-Lyon?” Anna made a face before gently patting his cheek. “If you need me with you . . . don’t ask. I’ll refuse.”
He laughed, his unease vanishing as she’d no doubt intended. “I see our declarations of adoration are at an end. And so soon.”
Anna scrunched her nose at him. “And what does Mrs. Dove-Lyon want now? Money? Blood? A sacrificial virgin?”
He smirked. “Good thing I fully plan to debauch you given the first available opportunity.”
“A very good thing,” she agreed with a saucy smile. She glanced at the letter on the table. “You might want to bring an expensive bottle of wine, anyway. Or a goat or two.”
He dropped a kiss on her forehead. “I shall have them all wrapped in gold and topped with big, red bows.”
“And then you’ll hurry home to thoroughly debauch your wife,” she ordered.
There was nothing else to say to that fine idea except, “Yes, General.”