Kady Cross - The Girl with the Windup Heart

“I have this.” Jack shoved the paper Gracie had given him in Blackhurst’s face, and had the satisfaction of watching the earl blink blood out of his eye, and his face go pale beneath the crimson. “Where did you get that?”

“Where do you think?” When Blackhurst tried to grab the paper, Jack yanked it back just in time, and shoved his father back with his other hand. “You actually married her, you rotten bastard. I can’t believe you were stupid enough to keep the evidence.”

The earl stared at him in horror. Jack might have enjoyed this power if he weren’t so damn angry. “You stay away from Mila. Stay away from me and anyone who knows me. Do whatever the hell you want with your money—I don’t want it. But if you come near her again, I’ll let the entire world know that I’m your legitimate heir. I’ll make your life miserable. Your wife and your children will be social outcasts. Everyone will know the truth, and when you die you’ll be on your deathbed knowing that I will inherit everything that was yours. Maybe I’ll let your granddaughter work here as a chambermaid.” It was a lie, of course, he’d never harm a child, but it was effective against his father. He didn’t even have to use his talent to drive the threat home.

Blackhurst didn’t insult him by challenging him with a “you wouldn’t” sort of thing. He knew better. The apple, as it were, had not fallen that far. “You have my word,” his father rasped. “Now get out.”

There was no satisfaction in this victory. Jack folded the paper and stuffed it inside his jacket as he left the room. It did nothing to change the fact that he and his father hated each other. It didn’t change that his mother had died in relative poverty when she’d in fact been a countess. Jack’s life should have been completely different.

And yet...he wouldn’t change who or what he was. He would rather be the person he’d made himself into than whatever Blackhurst would have made of him. He could ruin the man. He could take everything from him, but he didn’t want it. All he wanted was to go home with Mila and watch the sun come up.

They were all waiting for him when he stepped outside. Mila, her pretty face already healing from the blows she’d taken in the ring, turned to watch his approach, her amber eyes wide. “Jack?”

He hesitated. Oh, to hell with it. He walked right up to her, cupped her face in his hands and kissed her—a proper kiss. It was the sort of kiss he had been wanting to give her for quite some time but had been afraid of. All that rubbish about wanting her to have a better life and a good man had left the same second he realized he wasn’t going to ruin his father. Things had become suddenly clear at that moment—all the important things—and the rest didn’t matter anymore.

Mila wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed him back with enthusiasm. Things might have gotten a little heated if Jack hadn’t started laughing. It felt good.

“Poppet,” he said when she gazed up at him quizzically, “put me down.” The foolish girl had lifted him clear off his feet!

Everyone had a chuckle over that and the intensity of the kiss dissipated—for now. There was a promise in Mila’s eyes that sent a tingle down his spine and made him eager to get home. She set him down.

Then Jack turned to face the others. “Thank you.”

Morgan clapped him on the back, and Jack thought the fellow’s hand might come out through his chest. “That’s what friends do, Jackie-boy.”

Jackie-boy?

They trailed past him down the steps, each giving him a little smile as they passed—as though they knew something about him that he didn’t. Only Finley stopped. She hugged Mila and then hugged Jack. And when she patted his cheek, giving him a faint smile, he understood everything she didn’t say. If these people were his friends, then she was the best of the lot. She understood him better than anyone ever had—until Mila. They would always be important to each other, but now it seemed she understood that he had someone that meant the world to him, and she also understood everything that came with that kind of feeling. Then she followed after the others.

“Are we going to be in trouble?” Mila asked when they were alone.

Jack looked at the broken door and the blood on the foyer floor. A handful of servants stood in the hall, dressed in their nightclothes, watching them curiously. “No. Blackhurst won’t ever bother us again.” Then he offered her his hand—it was just as bloody and battered as hers, the skin of his knuckles torn open. She entwined her fingers with his and squeezed.

Jack smiled at her. “Let’s go home.”

They made the drive back to Whitechapel at street level. Mila was silent until they were inside the house. Gracie met them at the door, and seeing that all was well, left to go back to Mrs. Rhodes’s where she had secured her old room. Jack loaned her his steam carriage for the trip. Then he and Mila went into the parlor where there was still a hole in the ceiling and plaster dust on the carpet.

“It seems like I did this years ago,” Mila remarked.

“You’re still going to pay for it,” he told her with a cheeky grin.

She smiled—a little. “Jack, you didn’t need to rescue me.”

“Yeah, I did.” All traces of humor were gone now. “Mila, I’ve been a wreck since you left. Whatever lesson you wanted to teach me, I’ve learned it. Just say that you’re home to stay.”

She swallowed, eyes wide. “I wasn’t trying to teach you anything. No, that’s not true. I suppose I wanted you to see that I’m a girl, Jack. A real girl, but now I know that I still have so much to learn about what it is to be human. I’m not sure I’ll ever understand. I just wanted you to miss me a little, to want me like I want you.”

The sorrow in her gaze broke his heart. “Real? Of course you’re real. Miss you? Want you? Bloody hell, poppet. Why do you think I stopped you that day when you kissed me? I want you too much. Mila, I...” When wonder lit her eyes he was struck momentarily speechless. Gutless. Courage, Jack. “I love you.” It took every ounce of his strength to say those words and wait for her reaction.

She stared at him.

Jack arched a brow. “Normally a girl has a response when a bloke makes such a declaration.”

Mila burst into tears and sank onto the sofa.

Alarmed, Jack sat down with her. “Poppet? Are you...all right?” Seemed like a ridiculous question. Had he been wrong? Did she not feel the same? Had he ruined everything? He cursed himself for being an idiot, but then she threw her arms around him and showered his face with kisses and tears, knocking him onto his back on the cushions. He laughed.

“We have to go to the séance,” she told him between kisses.

What the devil did that have to do with anything? “All right.”

She kept kissing—and crying. “Because they’re our friends, and Finley loves Griffin. And, Jack?” She reared up, gazing down at him with wet eyes. “I love you, too. I only went to Blackhurst’s because he threatened you.”

He reached up and stroked her hair back from her face. His heart was so full it felt ready to burst. “I know, love, I know. Let’s not talk about him right now. Why don’t you kiss me some more?” He could kiss her forever.

She grinned. It was like the sun coming out from behind a cloud. God, did she have any idea just how much she had changed his life? Changed him? The old him would have ruined his father, taken what was rightfully his and rubbed society’s face in it. But now nothing was more important than being on that sofa with Mila in his arms.

“All right,” she said, kissing him again. “But, Jack, there was something I was hoping we might do later.”