Barbour, Carolina - Watch Me, Desire Me (Siren Publishing Allure) Page 15

  Faison stepped from the darkness into the light. Megatha cowered seeing his fangs appear. She stuffed her fist into her mouth to keep from crying out. She pointed, her finger wavering, as she motioned to Faison. “You’re a creature of the night!”

  “And your worst nightmare should you ever touch my wife again.” Faison pulled Carline to him. He set a scathing look on Megatha. “This is your first and last warning. Accost my wife again and I will conveniently forget I don’t harm women. Have I made myself clear, Lady Megatha? I will not repeat myself.”

  Megatha started scrambling backwards. Her eyes saucer wide, mouth carped, she uttered prayers, as she put some distance between her and Faison.

  “I don’t believe I heard your response,” Faison said. His tone lowered an octave above a growl.

  Megatha gawked at Carline. “You lie with the evil incarnate. Therefore, you will reap what you sow”

  Faison growled, causing Megatha to backup.

  “Mother, please! I beg of you not to do this. He is my husband.”

  Faison turned his severe stare on Carline. “You will not plead anything of anybody. Ever.”

  Carline dropped her head, sniffed, wiping her tears with the back of her head. “She is my mother,” she said quietly. Her distress evident, she spoke as if the thought of having to decide between the two overwhelmed her senses.

  Megatha had never been maternal. Instead, she suffered through a volatile childhood, which included daily mental and physical abuse. Her father did what he could to stop her mother, in the end, he avoided the confrontations by spending endless days, sometimes weeks, away from home. During those times, Megatha took out her frustration on her even more. She berated her endlessly, never letting up, refusing to allow a day to pass where she didn’t remind her she was useless and unwanted. She was nothing. Still, she was her mother, and an innate sense of right and wrong—the teachings of Oslei—required her to love someone who clearly hated her.

  Carline gasped as the totality of her thoughts latched into her mind and settled. She peered at Fasion, and seeing he knew of her indecision, tore at her.

  Faison was a good man, Carline repeated inside her head. She knew little of him. She believed the man standing in her defense would never harm her. Never treat her with indifference, hit her or show anything but kindness. She knew this because on their wedding night when he tried to consummate their vows she went into a fit of hysterics. She sobbed endlessly. Faison whispered sweet soothing words and let her fall asleep in his arms. He did not shun her or accuse her of shirking wifely duties. With his strength, he could have insisted or forced her to submit, as most husbands did on their wives. Faison had not, and in her mind, it showed the caliber of the man she married.

  Awash in a new perspective, Carline cleared her eyes, squared her shoulders, and faced Megatha.

  “I’m content with Faison.”

  Fasion frowned, saying, “Content?”

  Carline looked at the man who stood as her protector and saw something more. He was tall, strapping, his physique defined and not bulging with muscles. Yet, he exuded inner and outer strength that bespoke of his ability to shelter her. He was easy to view, strong-featured with warm assessing eyes when he bestowed a smile on her.

  She wondered what he found attractive about her. Even more so when she did an evil wicked thing and sinned.

  “I’m with child,” she said, speaking low.

  Faison softened his approach. “I know. You are just content? We shall work on that.”

  “I’m deliriously happy I married you,” Carline hastily added. She was pleased her admission seemed to placate Faison. She glared at Megatha. “I can only pray for Oslei to have mercy on your soul, Mother. Hopefully, you will find solace, peace within, and it erases the bitterness in your heart.”

  Megatha’s voice ultra-low and glacier cold suddenly cut through the room like a gust of sleet stinging Carline’s ears. “Mayhap, but what you should pray for is things to come.”

  She smiled through the pain, refusing to let her mother win anymore.

  Mirth curled Megatha’s lips. Her laughter echoed through the small area as she fled the room.

  Chapter 22

  Saxby opened the door and peaked in on Milo. He slept, and Saxby felt relieved. Guilt tore at her also, as visits to her husband were rare these days, and often late in the evening when she knew he would likely be deep in slumber from the excessive use of grainroot. Before the thought of him becoming dependent on the drug would have concerned her, now she welcomed the distraction.

  The thought was true, and still left Saxby shame filled. It nibbled at her conscience. Sometimes when she contemplated matters, raw senses of culpability surfaced and made her fall to her knees and pray to Oslei for forgiveness.

  Juden was to blame. The stark reality no longer surprised her. He filled her nights with passion and days with self-reproach when she admitted she betrayed her husband willingly. It didn’t matter Milo brought Juden into her life. Milo’s selfish intent notwithstanding, she believed whatever he thought, it wasn’t she would fall in love with his brother.

  The dark, quiet corridor left Saxby able to concentrate on matters more clearly as she made her way to the bathing chamber. Juden was not only a constant in her home, but inside her heart as well. There were days were she sat idly thinking about nothing else except what her life would be like with Juden as her husband.

  Saxby dismissed the whimsical fantasy. She was not some foolish girl who couldn’t separate fact from fiction. She was hopelessly in love with Juden. He slated his lust with her and nothing more. Those were the truths of the situation. To think otherwise meant she succumbed to her foolish desires.

  A sense of dread ate at her by the time she reached for the door handle of the bathing chamber. Juden waited inside. To bath, cater, and fulfill all his whims, whilst she suffered under the pretense of wanting nothing more from him then what he offered. A twinge of anger panged through her at the thought. She wanted to place responsibility on Milo and Juden, and realized the fault could be placed nowhere other than on herself for foolishly allowing Milo to take things this far.

  She should have told Milo “no” about the strangers he brought to her bed, and definitely about Juden. She allowed Milo to string her along until somewhere in the madness, she lost her will to stand up for herself. Now, she felt consumed in a vortex of anguish, and yes, animosity because her life seemed strife with pleasing everyone but herself. Milo, Juden, carefully orchestrating her world to suit their purpose. She felt pulled in two distinct directions. Either way, regardless of the side chosen and outcome, she realized it wouldn’t be her own.

  Milo was her husband and could rightfully make her cease any interaction with Juden.

  Juden would accept Milo’s decision readily, leave Dandelion, never turn back, and solidify in her mind she was nothing to him but a pawn in Milo’s mind game. A thought surfaced, making Saxby shudder. She bit into her bottom lip until it hurt. Was Juden part of Milo’s scheme? She couldn’t be sure because she had no idea what her husband plotted. She sensed enough to know Milo’s excuse for summoning Juden to Dandelion had a dual purpose.

  By the time Saxby entered the room she seethed with fury. It was time for her to take matters into her own hands and direct her life in the direction she wanted, needed, if for no other reason than to gain some sanity.

  Saxby marched into the room. She went to the side table and gathered cloth and soap. Without looking at Juden, she sat down on the stool in front of the tub, and wetted the towel. When it was damp, she added the soap, vigorously rubbing the bar between her fingers until the towel bubbled with suds.

  “What’s the matter? You seem tense. Are you still upset with me about earlier when I refused to allow you to interfere with the affairs of men?” Juden said, turning his shoulder to face her.

  She responded by slapping the wet towel across his back. She lashed him with the towel using it like a whip.

  “Do you intend to wash
my body or flog me too death?”

  “Why are you here?” The sharpness of her tone cracked in the quiet room.

  “To bathe. ‘Tis what I told you earlier, remember? Or have you already forgotten?” He sunk beneath the water surface. Saxby slapped the towel harsh against his shoulder.

  “Do you intend to thrash me, Lady Saxby? If so, at least inform me why you feel the need to throttle me. Surely you owe me an explanation for trying to strip my skin off its bone.”

  “You have made me a harlot!”

  The water in the tub sloshed, spilled over the sides when Juden abruptly moved. He shifted and faced Saxby. His eyes fixated, he spoke beneath his breath, “What do you say? What is this nonsense?”

  “Don’t pretend you have no idea what I’m talking about.” She accused him.

  “That is not difficult, because I have no clue what the hell you are saying.” Juden shot back. When she went to smack the cloth again, he caught her wrist. “I prefer it when people are upfront with me. I don’t like trying to decipher through what I consider an intricate maze of thoughts inside your head. Tell me what is wrong or let it go. I don’t care to entertain this guessing game you obviously favor.”

  Saxby fumed. She tried to break free. Juden refused to allow her to budge. His hold was firm, not tight enough to hurt. Tears swelled in her eyes. The thought she might start sobbing in front of Juden left her mortified. She tried to turn away, to shield her face, as if the action meant Juden wouldn’t know she was fighting not to cry.

  She stiffened. “Unhand me.”

  “I will if you promise to behave. Why do you cry?” His tone was dry, disinterested, though she noticed he kept staring at her. His features relaxed.

  “That is none of your concern.”

  Juden’s eyebrows shot to his forehead. “Your impudence should no longer surprise me. You are a complicated woman.” He dropped her hand, settled back against the basin wall, and closed his eyes.

  Saxby jumped to her feet and bound for the door. She grabbed the lever when Juden spoke.

  His tone was level. The command resonated in her ears and caused her hand to waver over the latch. “You will not leave this room.”

  She clutched the handle.

  “I mean it.”

  Saxby jerked open the door.

  Juden moved like a whirlwind. He was stealth, swift, and corralled her against the wood frame. He shoved the door closed. The sound of the wood smashing shut and the lock clicking made Saxby jump.

  He pressed into her soaking her gown. The heat of his body seeped into her skin making her feel uncomfortably warm as if trapped, blanketed in a clammy cloak that was two sizes too small.

  Saxby’s heart beat furiously. For the first time, she reconsidered her rash action. Juden’s expression was wolfish like an animal ready to strike. His low growl came from deep within his throat, the harsh, intolerable tone laced heavily with impatience. She swallowed and pushed further back from him.

  Juden blew out air through his nostrils. “You think I would hurt you?”

  Saxby shook her head no. She gulped, swallowing the emotions threatening to erupt. She whispered, saying, “Not physically. No. That is the least of my concern.”

  Juden’s eyes shuttered, briefly. He caught a tear that slipped down her cheek with his thumb and wiped it away. “Why do you weep?”

  “‘Tis what women do when we are overwrought with sentimental feelings.”

  He tapped her nose. “Don’t be flippant. Answer my question.”

  “What if I chose not to?” she said coolly.

  “Lady, don’t push me. You can answer my question, or we can stand here until you do. ‘Tis your decision.”

  “Ah! Now you give my wishes consideration?” Saxby laughed nervously. “That is quaint of you. Who knew you could be so gracious?” she said, clearly to mock him.”

  “I don’t have time for this.”

  Before she could blink, he had opened the door and shoved her outside. When he went to slam the door closed, Saxby threw her arms out in front of her to block the dismissal. “Wait a minute.” She met his gaze with a chilly reception. She altered her approach, realizing a battle of wills with Juden was useless. She decided on a more straightforward method. “I don’t want to fight with you, Juden.”

  “That would be wise. You would lose.” He walked over to the tub, stepped inside, and sank beneath the water. He lowered his eyelids. Saxby was keenly aware he studied her beneath the cover of his lashes. She moved cautiously forward, unsure of his reaction, what he would do next. Like any hunter, he remained alert and ready to thwart an attack if that were her purpose.

  “I know why Milo asked you to come here. I want to know if what he revealed is the truth.”

  “You have doubts?”

  Saxby sat down on the stool, folded her hands in her lap, and studied the expanse of his broad shoulders, slickened with sweat, from the heat of the water. Then she turned away to observe the minimal décor of the room as a diversion. She had to keep her thoughts sharp and looking at his rippling muscles, all sweaty and slick, would not do.

  “I fear Milo’s intentions should be studied more closely. I admit…I’m afraid the accident may have damaged more than his body. His disposition changed, and I fear he is no longer the man I wed. Sometimes it is alarming and difficult to manage.”

  “You think he means you harm?” The harsh bite of his tone didn’t go unnoticed.

  Saxby shook her head no and then yes. She sighed heavily, picked up the towel, and fidgeted with it. She fingered the material, twirled it around, and watched droplets of water splash, hit the floor, and run down the cracks in the stone. “I don’t know what to think anymore.” Her voice sounded forlorn and shallow.

  “Why did you accuse me of making you a harlot?”

  “‘Tis a long story,” she whispered. The others meant nothing. Therefore, as far as she was concerned, there was no need to disclose them.

  Juden raised his knees, sank further into the tub, folded his arms behind him, and rested. “I’m listening. Please explain before the water chills more than it has already.”

  She might as well get it over with, even though she had reservations about revealing unsavory things to Juden. There was nothing to do about her choice of direction now—Pandora’s Box was wide open. She jumped into it head first.

  Without going into detail, she left certain aspects of Milo’s descent into murkiness out, sticking to what she wanted Juden to know. She told him about Milo’s accident and admitted she was to blame. She feared Milo sought revenge because of this.

  “I agree with your assessment. Is there anything else you aren’t telling me?”

  Saxby squirmed even though Juden did not look at her. “No,” she said, quickly. Then realized her tone revealed much. Juden maneuvered around in the tub. He situated his large frame between the narrow walls and caused suds to run over the side. He observed her with a knowing gaze that bored through her mind and made discomfort settle. He eyed her suspiciously, saying, “We both know Milo may have succumbed to madness, for lack of a better term. I can handle that situation. I will. Is that all that has you upset? If so, do you believe, I think, you are a whore. It doesn’t make sense.”

  He may as well call her a liar.

  “Giving into Milo’s ridiculous demands did. I share my bed with you willingly and for it I will burn in Oslei’s fire.”

  A slight smile surfaced, and made Juden look impish. He had a mischievous grin on his face like a child who knew he was about to say something naughty. “Is it because you enjoy being in my arms? Or you hunger for my touch and heat of my thrust? There are worst offenses, Saxby.”

  “Not in my mind. You are my husband’s brother,” she said, cowardly, refusing to meet his stare.

  “Half-brother if it makes you feel better.”

  “It does not.”

  “Mmm…then perhaps another tactic to distract you,” he said and reached for her.

  She tried to protest, wh
ich went over Juden’s head. He ignored her feigned refusal and encircled her waist, lifted, and pulled her into the tub. She slapped at his hands. “Juden, you will ruin my gown.”

  “Remove it.”

  She caught his hand when he reached for her top. “I can’t do this and concentrate on how to get out of this mess I’m entangled in. Juden…please,” she said. She attempted to stay his hands, which were busy as an octopus undoing buttons and lacing. He moved like a blur.

  Juden remained focused on his task. “The gown is striking, green suits you. The cloth is salvageable.” He looked at her. “Do you want it damaged beyond repair? What do you think?” She avoided the intense gaze that left her loopy in the head and senseless to fight his allure.

  “You want the gown damaged beyond repair?” His fingers looped around delicate lace and gave it a slight tug.

  “This is exactly what I’m talking about. This…you…we cannot do this.” He continued working on getting his way as if he hadn’t heard one thing she said. “Are you listening to me?” She sounded desperate.

  Juden shifted his attention. “I heard you give me some half-ass explanation about why you are worried. You think I would let anything happen to you, darling?”

  “That is not the point.” She slapped at his hand. Juden was unfazed. He continued undressing her. She tried to move his hands away again. Juden seized her wrist and kissed her there.

  Saxby inhaled sharply, feeling moist lips hum over her dewy flesh. He nibbled upward toward her throat, digressed to her breast where he leisurely mapped a trail of teasing kisses.

  When he slid his hand up to cup her cheek, Saxby felt a rush of ripples rush up her spine. She gasped, struggled to fight against the enticement. “You are making me insane, Juden,” she moaned, feeling at a loss to do anything about the rampant urges he ignited inside her body, knowing she would capitulate to his will, again.

  “There is no need to fear me. I will take care of you, ease your concerns, and rid whatever matters have you solemn.”