Nila

Three Years Later...

“GOOD NIGHT, GOOD NIGHT, DON’T let the bed bugs bite.”

The squeal echoed merrily around the room as Jethro blew raspberries on the belly of our child. Our firstborn. Part Weaver, part Hawk.

The past few years had gone by so fast. We became a true family—working together, loving together, learning and evolving and laughing.

My pregnancy had been easy. Thanks to my fitness from running, I remained supple and able to work until the day I delivered. Jethro would often find me in the Weaver quarters, sewing and sketching with my belly ballooning as the days stretched on.

He never told me to stop. He supported whatever I wanted to do. He held my hand when I walked the estate and commandeered the kitchen at all hours to concoct my ridiculous cravings.

He absolutely doted on me, and I fell deeper into love with him. I hadn’t known there were so many layers to love. Sweet and sparkling then lusty and desiring, evolving into bone-deep and endless as the years slipped by. And the longer we lived together, the more we became soul-mates in every sense of the word.

He knew my thoughts without me verbalising.

I knew his concerns without him having to speak. We became in-tune with body language and heart-code...listening with more than just ears.

The further I progressed in my pregnancy, the more my father visited. His fear for my health grew until I resembled a blimp, soothing the scars of our past. He begged for the right to help decorate the nursery and almost singlehandedly bought London out of every nappy, cuddly toy, and cute baby clothes.

My twin was less impressed. He ribbed me constantly of the weight I’d gained—taunting me like a brother was allowed. On the nights he came to visit, he’d pat his washboard stomach and poke my humongous one, laughing good-naturedly. He even joked he’d buy me a few lessons with a personal trainer once I’d popped to get back into shape.

Jethro had not been happy. His eyes flashed with jealousy as Vaughn played up the angle of some beefed-up jock helping me stretch and train.

The night had ended with drinks for the boys and giggles for me.

I’d never been so contented.

And the day I’d given birth had once again changed my life. I’d been terrified—not that I told Jethro. My heart bucked and the fear of dying in labour stole all enjoyment of bringing life into the world.

But Jethro had been my prince, keeping me anchored, rubbing my back when vertigo struck and driving me calmly to the private hospital we’d arranged for the delivery.

The birth hadn’t gone perfectly. I’d been in labour for twenty-four hours. The baby had turned the night before and faced the wrong way. An emergency caesarean had to take place after Jethro roared for the doctors to take away my pain.

For every one of my contractions, Jethro felt it. He sweated beside me. He trembled in sympathy. He almost threw up when the agony threatened to rip me apart.

But when the first screams of our child shredded the operating theatre, Jethro had slammed to his knees. His shoulders quaked in silent sobs as he let himself feel another conscience for the first time.

Not mine.

Not the doctors and nurses.

Our baby.

His.

Our son.

The moment the doctor cleaned up the newborn and swaddled him in Jethro’s arms, he’d irrevocably changed. He became more than lord and master of Hawksridge. He became more than lover and friend.

He became a father. A protector. A single piece in a jigsaw of never-ending history. The look on his face when he stared into the eyes of his heir fisted my heart until I couldn’t breathe.

It’d been the singular most awe-inspiring moment of my life.

And I’d done it to him.

We’d done it together.

We’d created the squalling new life wriggling in his embrace.

He’d found his peace.

His centre.

Our son cooed as I brushed his bronze-black curls off his cherub cheeks. To begin with, I’d been terrified of making a mistake—of being the worst mother imaginable. But once I returned home to the Hall, the cooks and cleaners all came to welcome their new inhabitant; granting snippets of their own experiences, and filling me with courage I could do this. I could raise this little person. I could teach him how to be moral and kind and wise. I’d been able to break the Debt Inheritance. I could raise a baby boy, no problem.

Jethro touched my hand from the other side of the cot, looping his pinkie with mine. Our son wriggled in his bed, grabbing our joint fingers and squeezing them tight.

My heart glowed as Jethro strained across the crib, kissing me softly. “I love what we’ve created.”

I smiled. “I’m rather glad about that.”

The chubby fingers around ours pinched, demanding more attention. “Okay, okay, demanding little thing.” Jethro let me go, bending over to kiss his son one last time. “It’s time to go to bed.”

“No!”

“Yes.”

The little boy shook his head, loving his favourite game.

I stood quietly, watching son and father interact. The name we’d chosen couldn’t be more apt.

Kestrel.

Kestrel ‘William’ Hawk after Jethro’s original ancestor and closest brother.

Jethro sighed dramatically. “If you don’t go to sleep, you won’t get to enjoy tomorrow.”

“Yes. Tomarrooww.”

I smothered my chuckle. Kes was beyond intelligent for his age. He’d learned to talk far earlier than normal, but his little accent cracked me up.

“No, if you don’t go to sleep, there is no tomorrow.” Jethro grinned, blowing another raspberry on Kes’s neck. “Know why?”

Kes frowned as if the question was incredibly important. “No.”

“Because if you don’t sleep, tomorrow can’t come because you’re still in today. That’s why we sleep, Kes. So today can pass and our dreams can conjure a new beginning. You don’t want to ruin that tradition, do you?” Tucking the sheets tighter around him, he smiled. “After all, Mummy and I will be in the future, living tomorrow while you’re stuck in the past living today. We’re going to go to sleep. That means you should, too.”

Kes suddenly froze, his inherited golden eyes latching onto me. “True?”

“Very true.” Pressing the button of his nose, I murmured, “Go to sleep, little one, so we can have a good day. We’ll go riding. Would you like that?”

He yawned wide, finally letting tiredness take him.

“Good boy.” Removing my hand from the cot, I moved quietly toward the door. Jethro remained, bending to give Kes another kiss. Patting his son’s tiny chest, he checked the nightlight was secure and the baby monitor switched on and synced to his phone.

The little boy who looked exactly like his namesake with cheeky golden eyes and floppy dark bronze hair snuggled in his covers, already falling into dreams as his father sneaked across the room to me.

“You do know he manipulates us to drag out as many minutes before bedtime as possible, right?”

I laughed quietly; stepping into the corridor of our wing, I left the door open a crack. “Did you sense that or just parenting 101?”

His arm snaked around my waist. “A bit of both. If we’re not careful, he’ll have us completely wrapped around his little finger.”

“Eh, I think that’s already happened.”

Leaving the nursery, we padded down the corridor of the bachelor wing. Not that it was the bachelor wing anymore. We’d transformed many of the rooms into playrooms, media rooms, and revamped the bedroom with soft whites and greys rather than overbearing brocade and maroon leather.

It’d been the only part of the house we’d renovated and removed the symbolism of Hawks on plasterwork and architraving. The rest of Hawksridge was a monument to architecture and history. It wouldn’t be right to tear apart something so rich and detailed.

The thought of heading to bed to do more than sleep crossed my mind.

After Kestrel’s birth, I’d returned to running. It wasn’t a chore. I ran for freedom, for peace. I ran because it was something I enjoyed. The baby weight came off, and I returned to designing gowns for my figure. The caesarean scar was just another mark on my body proving I’d lived a life and won. But unlike the many others scars I’d earned fighting an age-old debt, this one I wore proudly because it’d been given to me by the greatest gift I could imagine.

And soon, I would have another gift.

I had another secret.

A secret I’d managed to keep far longer than the first. Sneakily hiding my growing bump with excuses and masquerades. I’d kept my surprise hidden for two reasons. One, I wanted to see how long it would take Jethro to sense my news. I constantly expected him to suddenly drop the dishes or stop doing paperwork and announce what grew in my belly.

But ever since Kes had come into our lives, his condition had mellowed. He now had two of us who loved him unconditionally and didn’t walk a razor blade of hypersensitivity—he didn’t need to. All he needed to focus on was happy thoughts and contentment.

Before Kes was born, I’d catch him having a stressful day and try to soothe his condition by giving all the love I could share. I’d grant him sanctuary in our connection and hold him as long as he needed. Being in crowds was still too much for him. Dealing with company travel didn’t often happen as his need for silence hadn’t diminished.

At the start of our relationship, when he’d told me how much he would drain me, how much he would rely on my love for him, I hadn’t fully understood the ramifications of what I’d agreed to.

But now I did and it was the least I could do.

He’d given me so much. On a daily basis, he gave me more of himself than I could ever ask for, and to be able to help cure him after a long day dealing with people granted me power and connection.

But our son.

Well...he was the true cure.

Jethro only had to hug Kes and the stress in his eyes would melt. The strain in his spine would vanish, and the need for simplistic silence came from holding the two-year-old in the tightest embrace.

Two years.

I couldn’t believe we’d had Kestrel Hawk II in our lives for two years.

My mind returned to my secret, subtly stroking the growing bump.

The other reason why I’d kept it from him was I wanted the moment to be special. I wanted to whisper in his ear and give him a treasured present after he’d given me so much.

Spinning my black diamond engagement ring, I remembered Kes’s first week at the Hall. Jethro had disappeared for a day, telling me to rest and all would be revealed upon his return.

I couldn’t believe it when he returned with a foal.

Tears had spilled as he clutched the halter of such a delicate little pony and pranced him proudly through the Hall to Kestrel’s nursery.

There, the adorable dapple grey colt stuck his nose through the bars of the cot, snuffling at the baby, building the first stone of an unshakable bond between horse and rider.

We’d agreed to call the foal Gus—labelling the colt with yet another name from the man who watched over us. It wasn’t for a few weeks until I found out the origins of where Gus had been sourced.

Jethro had returned to the breeder who’d given his brother Moth—creating yet another circle of fate, buying pedigree from excellent stock.

My heart overflowed; I came to stop in the corridor.

Jethro raised his eyebrow. “You okay?”

“I want to tell you something.”

He paused, his nostrils flaring. “Tell me what?”

“Not here. I want to go somewhere special. Just the two of us.”

He frowned. “You’re scaring me. Tell me.” His hands latched around my hips walking me backward to the wall. Pressing me against the fancy tapestries, his mouth latched on my throat. “Don’t make me torture you to learn what you’re hiding, wife.”

I melted as his tongue and hot wetness of his mouth sent needful flurries through my core. “Perhaps a swim? I could tell you in the hot springs?” My mind filled with happy moments, splashing with Kes in the hot water and making slow love to Jethro once our son was in bed. The springs beneath Hawksridge had become a regular part of our lives. And I happened to know Jasmine took Vaughn down there a number of times to not only ease her atrophied muscles but also to indulge in...other things.

His lips kissed their way over my neck to my mouth. Tilting his hips, a rapidly hardening erection nudged my lower belly.

I moaned, accepting his invite.

His breathing quickened as his tongue danced with mine. Kissing me slowly, savagely, sweetly. The Hall swam, and my leg itched to hook over his thigh, hitch up my skirt, and welcome his body into mine.

Planting his hand by my head, he held himself over me. His voice trembled with lust. “I won’t let you distract me. I want to know what you’re hiding, and if you want it to be somewhere special...I have a better idea.”

“Oh?”

Pushing off from the wall, he took my hand. “Yes. You want somewhere priceless. Let’s go for a walk on the grounds. The very land we own and safeguard for our son. That’s the most special I can think of.”

I couldn’t agree more.

Our fingers linked as we moved through the house, nodding at Black Diamond brothers and waving at Flaw as we crossed the foyer. It wasn’t late, about nine p.m., but the summer sky teased with dusk. The sun had gone, cooling the outside temperature, but my ankle-length skirt and gypsy blouse would keep me warm enough for a small excursion.

Our footsteps disturbed gravel and leaves as we left the Hall and meandered down the driveway.

Passing the orchard, my mouth watered remembering the juicy fruit we’d picked the day before. Jasmine did her best to teach me how to have a green thumb like her, but I wasn’t interested; not when I had baby clothes to sew.

It hadn’t escaped my notice the way Jasmine held little Kes. She wanted one. We’d had a late-night conversation once about her getting pregnant with Vaughn.

For a long time—too long—she hadn’t let Vaughn touch her. She couldn’t get over her fear that someone could love her, no matter how stupid such a notion was. They’d been together for over two years, and she’d confided it took her almost a year just to allow him to sleep with her.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked as we left the driveway and cut into the woods. Together, we followed the path where we’d been for a run, skirting past the graves of my ancestors.

My heart clenched, recalling the day we’d tended to the awful moor and made it a better resting place. After discussing the graves with my father and brother, we all decided to leave them where they were buried. However, we re-blessed the ground, had new tombstones engraved, and ensured the hilltop only held good manifestations rather than ill will.

It was fitting that both Weavers and Hawks were buried on the estate and had followed through with legalities for a personal graveyard permit, so we were fully within the law. I didn’t visit often, but had no intention of hiding any of our history from our children when the time came.

Including Jacqueline.

I’d begun to tell her about our shared lineage but hadn’t gotten very far.

We’d met five times over the past two years.

To begin with it was awkward and confusing to stare at a stranger who’d shared a womb and birthday. But slowly, we turned from polite acquaintances to pleasant friends. We had plans to take Kes to see her next month up in Cornwall.

She didn’t have children of her own and had only just married her long term partner, Joseph. She was my sister...but it would take time to become family.

“Somewhere special.” Jethro smiled in the dark. “I thought we’d walk off dinner...that okay?”

“Of course, more than okay.” My mind raced with how to tell him the news.

A snuffling sound came from the undergrowth. I froze, peering into the bush, searching for a hedgehog or badger.

Squirrel came bounding out of the undergrowth, weaving around Jethro’s legs.

“Bolly, what the hell are you doing out of the kennels?” Jethro scowled. “How the devil did he get out?”

I grinned, dropping to my haunches to hug the dog. He’d adopted me on my first night at Hawksridge and was still my favourite of the foxhounds. Jethro no longer hunted, but every now and again, we would gallop across the estate with the baying dogs at our heels.

The dog yipped, coming to lick my hand. “He can come with us.”

“We’ll take him back to the stables afterward.” Jethro snapped his fingers. The hound heeled obediently.

Silence fell as Jethro and I moved further into the woods. The moon only illuminated so much, but our eyes adjusted. Following an animal path, we popped out in a little clearing where a few ferns and foxglove bowed in sleep.

I turned to Jethro to tell him my news, but his mouth landed on mine, hushing everything I wanted to say.

“Would you play a game with me, Mrs. Hawk?”

I grinned, his skin silver in the moonlight. “A game? What sort of game?”

His teeth nipped their way to my ear. “A game to replace bad memories with good.”

We’d done that with every debt. The octagonal greenhouse had become a favourite place for kinky sex and the lake shed its stigma of the ducking stool and became a prized picnic spot. We’d rechristened Hawksridge Hall with so many happy memories over the past few years.

My heart raced. “You have me intrigued. Go on.”

He chuckled. “Remember that first day? When you ran for your life to the boundary? I told you to run. That I would chase you. And when I found you...you gave me the best fucking blow-job of my life.”

I shivered. “I remember.”

“I want to chase you again, Nila.”

My eyes widened at the naughty, delicious thought of what he would do to me when he caught me. “Naked or dressed?”

His eyes flashed. “Run while you’re dressed. It won’t stop me from claiming what’s mine when I catch you.”

I panted, backing away from his arms. Already breathless, I had no idea if I’d be able to run very far. Not that I wanted to. But the sheer thrill of running from the man I loved, knowing what he would do when he stopped me, sent my blood racing. “How much head start do I get?”

“A few minutes.” He bent and grabbed Squirrel by the scruff. “I’ll have my friend here to help me. Just like I did that day.” His lips twisted into a sexy smirk. “I suggest you run fast, Needle. Otherwise, I’ll have you on the ground and my cock between your legs before you’ve gone a few metres.”

Swiping my hair into a ponytail, I secured it with an elastic. “Okay.” My nipples ached, and I grew shamefully wet. Walking backward, I smiled coyly. “Bet I get farther than you think.”

“I suggest you stop taunting me and start running...”

“Let’s see who will win.” Pirouetting, I took off. My ballet flats flew, hurtling me away from Jethro.

The intoxication of being able to play and laugh bubbled in my blood. The moment he caught me, he’d take me. And once he’d claimed what was rightfully his—what would always be his—I’d tell him my news.

Leaping over a fallen log, I darted through the undergrowth, not caring I crunched twigs or crashed through large leaves. He would find me. And I wanted him to.

True to his word, he gave me a few minutes head start before Squirrel’s howl sounded on the night sky, signalling his chase.

I ducked and parried around trees and roots, doing my best to get far. But instead of fear, I sparked with laughter and love.

“Are you running? Because I’m chasing.” Jethro’s baritone whipped through bracken.

I ran faster, my hair tie coming loose and ebony strands cascading down my back as I tore through a small everglade and into dense woodland.

I hoped I’d get farther. But Squirrel found me first.

His paws thundered behind me, reminding me he’d ruined my hiding place up the tree that fateful day. Puffing, I ruffled the dog as he ran beside me. His tongue lolling and black eyes bright with excitement. “Even when you were being a traitor, you had my back, didn’t you?”

Squirrel yipped. I’d never get used to calling him Bolly. That wasn’t his name—not with the bristly tail he had.

Breathing hard, I entered another small clearing. This one had a few saplings straining for the sky. I went to dash forward, but a hand lassoed around my wrist, yanking me back.

“Caught you, little Weaver.”

I shivered, my core clenching with need. “Unhand me, Mr. Hawk. Otherwise, I promise I’ll make your life a living hell.”

“Never.” He backed me swiftly against a tree, slamming my wrists above my head and biting his way along my collarbone. “I’ve wanted to do this all day.”

My breath turned into moans as his tongue licked its way down my throat, over my collar, to the dip between my breasts. “Do what?”

“This.” Spinning me around, he pressed my front against the tree and bent to gather my summery skirt. My skin goosebumped as the sound of his zipper coming undone sent wetness pooling.

“All day I’ve stared at you. I grew hard for you while you hugged our son. My mouth watered to lick you as you sipped wine at dinner.”

My throat tightened as Jethro’s hands skated down my body, following my contours, latching onto my hips.

“You’re so fucking perfect.”

My back arched in his hold. The hot steel of his erection nudged between my legs. “Open wider, pretty Weaver. I need you, and I need you hard.”

I jolted with the thickest, quickest desire I’d ever felt. My feet spread as Jethro tugged my skirt up.

“Jethro...”

“Let me do this.”

“I’d let you do anything.”

“Christ.”

Lifting one foot, I allowed him to yank down my knickers and stepped out of them, moaning as he wedged me against the tree again, thrusting his hips against my arse.

I struggled to get my hands free, reaching behind me to stroke his side. “I need...I need to touch you.”

“No, you need to let me fuck you.”

“Do it, then. Take me. I’m all yours.”

“Shit, Nila.” His hands shook as his fingers dug into my skin. “I’m going to take you. Right. Fucking. Now.” Grabbing my hips, he slammed inside me.

“Oh, my God.” My head shot back as Jethro’s large length took possession of everything I was. He wasn’t gentle. He wasn’t kind. He was a man taking what he wanted.

I had no thought of the gift inside my womb. I had no thoughts at all but him inside me and the feral way we joined.

I’d never felt such bliss or baser desires. We were two animals fucking in the middle of a forest. All alone aside from the moon and stars.

Grabbing my wrists again, he held them above my head as his teeth clamped around my throat. He groaned, thrusting hard, impaling every inch inside me.

“Fuck, I love you.” His voice poured more fuel onto the already blazing lust and my core fisted his length, begging for more, fearing how hard he would take me.

“Oh, God, it’s so good. You feel...” My eyes snapped closed as he rode me. His pace was furious and brutal, the pleasure sharp and overwhelming. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

His breath slinked down my spine as he pulled away to fuck me harder. “I have no intention of stopping.”

Angling my chin with demanding fingertips, his mouth landed on mine, sucking, slippery. His kiss stole whatever facets of humanity I had left, and I completely gave in to him. I gave myself to the wild wetness of his tongue. I moaned as he made love to my tongue while fucking my body.

His free hand waltzed over every curve, greedy and firm, twisting my nipples, grabbing my entire breast in his hold.

“You love this.”

I nodded, gasping around our kiss. “So much.”

“You love it when I take you nasty and rough.”

“Yes.”

“You love it when I take you tender and sweet.”

“Yes.”

“You love me.”

“A thousand times, yes.”

I cried out as his cock hit the top of me, heralding an orgasm to spindle and gather. My knees wobbled and the bark of the tree rasped my cheek. But I wouldn’t change a thing. Not one goddamn thing.

The rhythmic strokes of his tongue matched the claiming strokes of his cock.

“Feel me, Nila. Feel my cock deep inside you.”

My nipples ached as more wetness gushed around his penetration. “I do. I feel every inch.”

“Feel how fucking hard I am. How much I fucking I love you.”

I spread my legs wider, arching my back for more. “Kite...”

“Think how much you love me now, when the last time you ran from me, you hated me.”

His voice added another layer to my orgasm. I wanted him so much. I wanted to come, but I didn’t want this to stop.

“Think about how much we’ve overcome to deserve what we have.”

I loved him losing himself in me. My soul echoed with his need. My body begged for his release. I felt him everywhere—in the air, the tastes, the sounds, the very heart of me. He was more than man; he was heat and power and forever.

He’d given me a child. He’d saved me from the debts.

He’d made me more than just human. He’d made me immortal. Immortal in his love. Immortal in his passion.

“Fuck, Nila. Whatever you’re thinking about. It’s driving me to come.”

“Then come.”

“Not yet.”

His pace turned frantic, our breathing mingling in echoing gasps. His hand landed on my nape, holding me in place as he drove harder, faster. We were locked completely in each other’s spell—a bombardment of rapture.

“Please,” I begged. “More.”

“I’ll give you more.” His fingers shot down my front, landing on my clit.

I moaned as delicious shards of lightning crackled beneath his touch. I was a second away from detonation. A single breath from—

I came.

The lightning turned to a supernova, unspooling with the speed of light, exploding through my chest, heart, and soul. My entire body clenched and rippled, cradling me in euphoria.

“Goddammit.” Jethro’s forehead landed on my nape and he lost himself completely.

His cock jerked in and out, his stomach hitting my spine with every thrust. His groan cascaded down my back as the first spurt of his release shot inside me.

I didn’t move as he filled me, found pleasure in me. I trembled with satisfaction even though I still ached from my orgasm.

The moment his release ended, his hands roamed over my back, massaging kinks, showering me in a perfect blend of gratefulness and submission. He’d taken me dominantly, but he’d given me everything for safekeeping. That was real power. The stuff that came after sex.

He pulled out, breathing hard. The slick trickle of his cum marked my inner thighs.

Twisting in his arms, I smiled at the affection and awe in his eyes. We’d captured a miracle and lived in a fairy-tale.

“Come here.” His voice was hoarse and deep. Curling his arms around me, he embraced me with all the love we shared. The sex had been furious, but this was the epitome of tenderness.

My breasts pressed against his chest as my arms looped his waist, deleting all space between us.

We held each other for a long time, regrouping from coming undone so spectacularly.

Pulling away, Jethro’s eyes latched onto my mouth. “Thank you.” Bowing his head, his lips tickled mine. “Kiss me, Nila.”

Those two little words had become my absolute favourite.

I kissed him.

The dance was hot and wet, an erotic fusion of past and present with a lick of unforgettable futures.

Once we felt more human and not as raw and exposed, Jethro let me go. Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, he gently wiped his pleasure from my thighs and ducked to slip on my knickers.

I held onto his shoulder as he pulled the lace up my hips, hiding my nakedness. Letting my skirt fall back into place, I couldn’t tear my eyes from him as he tucked his still hard cock back into his jeans and buckled up.

Squirrel bounded from the undergrowth with perfect timing, almost as if he’d given us privacy. He yipped, wagging his tail as Jethro tossed him a stick to chase.

I smoothed down my clothing. “Now you’ve just ravaged your wife in the middle of the forest, do you want to know why I wanted to go somewhere special?”

His lips twitched. “Of course, I do—”

He froze, his forehead furrowed. “Oh, my God. You’re—you’re—”

I rolled my eyes. “Seriously, did your condition steal my secret? After all this time, you guess right before I tell you?” Stamping my foot with mock anger, I growled, “I can’t surprise you with anything.”

Jethro didn’t move. “So you are...”

I beamed. “I am.”

He charged forward. His hands—the ones that’d been so sexually demanding and rough now held me as if I was spun glass. “Nila...hell, I can’t believe it. What did I ever do to deserve this?”

Holding his cheeks, I kissed him.

I kissed him for every day we’d been together and every day we had coming.

My heart overflowed with joy. “I’m pregnant, Jethro. And this time...it’s a girl.”