Chapter 14 #2
“I don’t think so.” Marcus pulls me closer still, his jaw set to stone. “You and I have always kept things civil, Uncle. Don’t spoil that by walking into my house and telling me how to run it.”
“I’m not interfering in your personal affairs.” The uncle spreads his hands, reasonable, patient. “But this one, whoever she is, is wrong for you. I’ve told you before. Sloane comes from a good family. She’s the woman I’ve chosen to be your wife.”
I look between the two men, and unease crawls up my spine. “Marcus, I should go.”
“Stay where you are.” He holds me in place, and the fury is in every line of his face now, no more hiding it.
“I don’t know what you think you’re doing.
But you don’t get to tell me who I marry.
” His voice roughens. “And Sloane is the last woman on this Earth I’d take.
I’d thank you both to get out of my home. ”
The uncle’s mouth thins. “You forget who you are.”
Marcus moves me behind him with one arm, and as he does, a shudder runs through him, something I feel more than see, huge and wrong just under his skin. When he speaks, his voice has dropped into a register that raises the hair on my arms.
“You forget who I am.”
The octaves of his voice are deep, unnaturally so, and his uncle goes pale. Behind him, Sloane’s smug look disappears from her face. For a heartbeat, nobody breathes.
Then the uncle recovers, and the easy smile comes back all at once. “I’m only looking out for you, my boy.”
“That’s not what you came to do.” Marcus doesn’t move. “And I don’t take kindly to you walking into my home to force a woman on me. You don’t get to decide who I take to my bed or who wears my ring on their finger. I’m sorry, Uncle, but you’re crossing a line.”
The silence stretches. Then the uncle inclines his head, gracious even in retreat, and turns for the door. Sloane throws one last look back at me, and I can’t read it, only that it isn’t friendly. Then they’re gone.
Marcus stands with one hand braced flat on the counter, the other dragging down his face. His chest is heaving. I’ve never watched anyone fight this hard to keep still.
I touch his shoulder carefully. “Hey. Are you okay?”
“No.” It comes out sharp. “Do I look okay to you?”
I flinch back before I can stop it. He’s never once turned that edge on me.
He sees me flinch, and his expression changes. “Jessa. I’m sorry.” He turns, reaching, then stops short of touching me. “I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry. I just don’t understand what’s gotten into him.”
But my eyes keep going to the door, to the space where Sloane stood. Something about that woman bothers me. I don’t know what. It’s like an itch in my brain.
“Why is your uncle trying to marry you off to her?” I ask, and I’m proud of how level it comes out.
“I don’t know.” Marcus scrubs the back of his neck, frustration etched into every line of his body. “He’s fixated on getting me married. He’s been at it for years.”
I ache for him a little, standing there wrung out in his own kitchen. “You and your uncle don’t get along?”
“He’s a good man.” He says it slowly, his eyes still on the door. “We don’t always see the same way. It’s complicated.”
“Well.” I set my cup down. “He was a pushy jerk, and I didn’t care for him.”
Marcus just looks at the door.
“You were about to tell me something,” I start. “Before they—”
His phone goes off on the counter. He glances at the screen, and whatever’s on it makes his expression go blank. He steps out onto the porch to take it, his voice too low to catch.
I stand in the ruined kitchen and wonder what’s gone wrong now. When he comes back in, his jaw is set.
“I have to go somewhere. It’s urgent.” He’s already moving, pulling a jacket off the hook. “Two men are coming to the house. They’re friends of mine, so don’t be alarmed when you see them. They’ll keep all three of you safe.”
“Marcus—”
“If anything happens, you call me. My number, or this one.” He grabs a pen and writes on the back of an envelope. “That’s Adrian. And there’s a room under the house, a safe room. If you ever feel wrong about anything, you take the girls and go down there.”
Alarm floods through me. “What’s going on? A safe room, Marcus, what are you not telling me?”
“Nothing you need to worry about right now.” He crosses to me and takes my face in both his hands, and the sharpness is gone, only urgency left.
“If anything feels off. Even a whisper of it. Even if you can’t say why.
You take the girls downstairs, you call me, and I come. Fast as I can run. Do you hear me?”
I bring my hands up over his. “Go. We’ll be fine.”
He holds my eyes another breath and then lowers his mouth and kisses me fiercely.
I should push him away, and my fingers curl into his jacket to do just that.
But his kisses are addicting, his touch making my knees weak.
It’s so hard to think when he’s got those large hands on my body.
It was like that our first time and yesterday at the festival.
And even now, I can feel wetness between my legs. Just from a kiss.
Then he moves back, a regretful shadow passing over his face before he disappears out of the back door. He doesn’t go to the front of the house where the cars are but toward the tree line.
I’m too dazed to think about it. I watch until the woods swallow him. My heart’s going too fast, and I realize with some annoyance that I’m worried about him, this infuriating man, on top of everything else.
Turning around, I pick up my cup of coffee, one hand going to my lips.
My teeth sink into the lower one. His hands against my cheeks—they were so big.
I set down the cup without drinking. If it had been anybody else last night, I wouldn’t have trusted them the way I did Marcus.
Even now when part of me wants to go to the police, another part of me wants to believe that he’ll protect my daughter. No, our daughter.
I sink into a chair, murmuring, “He should know. I should tell him.”