Broken Promises (2 page)

“What kind of equipment do you plan to fill this room with, if you don’t mind my asking?” His hand curved over her shoulder and then slid into her hair, teasing her nape.

She tilted her head, telling him without words that she wanted more of his touch. “Some mats for the floor, mostly. But I also think it’s past time I put the clockwork automaton the general sent over to good use. While I won’t be dancing anymore, I need to find some way of staying active. I’m not used to sitting around with nothing to do.”

She didn’t use the word
training,
or tell him she was getting worried about General Black’s threat to send her into the field as an agent of the War Office. Every time she’d mentioned it, Jasper had thrown up a stone wall. Even now, his body tensed behind her just before she felt his lips purse in the tender spot at the base of her neck.

They hadn’t heard anything from the general in the three months since leaving Manchester, but as the days went by, the shadows in Jasper’s eyes got darker. Both of them seemed to be waiting for the axe to fall, and neither had been able to admit what would happen when it finally did.

The light stubble on his cheek and chin abraded her skin. When she shivered, he rubbed his face back and forth with a low chuckle. He’d recently expressed his appreciation of her shorter hairstyle, so she’d decided to flout convention and keep it short.

“You don’t need that machine for exercise—” he tasted her, sliding his tongue up the column of her neck, “—when you have me here. Ready…”

He traced her ear and then blew gently on the sensitive wet skin. She shivered yet again.

“…willing…” His hand closed into a fist and tugged gently on her hair until she let her head fall back with a low groan.

“…and able…” His other hand settled possessively on her hip as he pushed the hard evidence of his desire for her against the soft curve of her buttocks, felt keenly through the specially designed loose-fitting trousers she wore now, instead of the proper gowns that filled her closet. She’d tried to wear them occasionally, but the skirts tripped her up because she couldn’t feel them on her legs when they got in the way. Since she didn’t go out much in public in any event, there was really no one to care what she wore.

“…to attend to your every whim.”

She turned her head to the side for a kiss. His lips were soft over hers, tasting of his morning coffee and apricot jam.

He urged her to lean back against him, letting go of her hair to make quick work of the top three snaps of her shirt before slipping inside to cup her breast. He rolled her nipple between his fingers until it peaked.

“Jasper,” she gasped. His focused attention quickly had her desperate for more, for all of him. She whimpered and squirmed, wanting to touch him. He let her go, but only so she could turn around and meet his lips again.

She threw her arms around his neck and gave herself up to the riot of feelings coursing through her. There had been so much strain and tension between them. She worried that Jasper still felt guilt for what he saw as his failure to protect her. He hid it well, but she knew him.

A year ago, he would have watched her practice in here before pulling her to the floor and making vigorous love to her, as the sunshine from the tall windows glistened off their sweaty bodies. But now they weren’t so easy with each other.

He’d been gentle, so gentle. Giving her space, allowing her to reestablish a rhythm in the day-to-day bustle of the household. He came to her in the shadows of night and worshiped her body with his hands and mouth until release washed over them both in shuddering waves, but even in that he was gentle.

Like now, kissing her softly as if she might break when, with her iron fist and the enhanced strength from the mechanical organisms in her blood, she was far more likely to break him if things got out of hand, instead of the other way around.

“Jasper, when are you going to let go of your fear?”

“My…” He swallowed. “I’m not the one who was brutalized.”

“No, but I think you’re having more trouble with it because it wasn’t you. It was me. And you weren’t there, you couldn’t stop it.”

He winced with her every word. “Callie, don’t.” It was obvious he didn’t want to do this.

“As much as we promised ourselves a new beginning, you’ve been walking on eggshells with me, and it’s becoming tiresome.”

At first, she’d been grateful for his consideration. Her confidence in this new body had been shaky and she’d needed time to get used to it. She’d also wanted time to rebuild the trust they’d once shared and to reconcile with the fact that her life had irrevocably changed and so had both of them.

But more and more often, she found herself wanting to take a few chances. She wanted to break free of what felt like suspended animation and embark on this new life of hers. She also wanted her daring, confident husband back.

“The servants are in the next room,” he murmured against her lips. “And they could walk by at any moment.”

A small concession to her. She smiled, feeling the heavy beating of his heart as her chest pressed to his.

She pushed him back until his shoulders hit the wall. “Then shut the door. I’m certain they’ll be more than happy to know that the lord and lady of the house are…back to their old tricks.”

His eyes flickered a deep azure. She knew she had him even before he shot an arm out to pull the door closed. He swooped her off her feet and held her against his chest.

“Wait!” she squealed as he started carrying her across the room. “Put me down. I’m too—”

“If you tell me I’m going to pull something just carrying my wife in my arms, I’ll drop you right here.” His eyebrow shot up in a smooth arc as he gave a look that dared her to contradict him.

She shrugged. “All right, but where do you think you’re going to take me?”

“I would take you anywhere,” he murmured into her ear, suddenly serious. He stopped in front of the window and let her slide down his body until her feet touched the floor once again. “That’s an idea. Perhaps we should go somewhere. I could take you to Italy. Remember how beautiful Italy is in the spring?”

The garden stretched out before them on the other side of the glass. Soon, the vista would be filled with color. Greens, pinks and whites as the magnolia and fruit trees blossomed. But for now, even though the sun was bright and warm, it was still very early in the year and all the tree limbs were naked. The ground was dark and brown, with small patches of dirty snow dotting the hills.

This was her home. It held bad memories, but also many good ones that she’d been trying to reclaim. “As much as being here is difficult at times, you know we can’t just up and leave.” Turning back around, she caught a look as stark as the barren landscape crossing his face. “What’s the matter?” she asked. Would he finally open up and confide in her?

He only reached for her shirt, pulling apart the rest of the ingenious metal snaps in one smooth motion until the garment was spread open and fell off her shoulders and down her arms, leaving her in nothing but a thin chemise tucked into her trousers.

A sliver of disappointment slipped into her heart. No, it seemed he wasn’t ready to admit his fears aloud, but she understood what it was like to feel as if nothing was under your control. Perhaps she had to give him more time, the same as he’d done for her when she needed it.

“Never let it be said that these fastenings serve only one convenience,” he teased. The shirt, like many of her clothes, had been refashioned with snaps in order to facilitate her artificial hand, which was strong but lacked the ability to navigate delicate buttonholes and silk lacings.

“If I did that to your clothing as often as you do it to mine, you wouldn’t have anything to wear by week’s end,” she teased, fingering his collar.

“I would gladly order new shirts every day.” His voice had lowered, a telltale sign of his desire. The deep rumble triggered a swift rush of gooseflesh over her skin, as if she’d been trained to respond to it. To him.

His hands closed tight on her upper arms before he shifted and helped her down to the smooth floor. He tugged off her tall boots. She lay back and let him drag the heavy twill fabric of her trousers down her thighs and over the metal rods, balls and gears that made up her lower legs.

She was no longer as self-conscious as she’d once been, at least not with him. But finding herself bared to the skin in the bright light of day while her husband remained fully clothed was disconcerting. The state didn’t trouble her for long though, because as soon as he tossed her silk drawers to the floor behind them, he was settling between her spread thighs.

His touch infused her with heat, lips tracing a burning path from her mouth, down her neck to her breast while his hand cupped and squeezed the other. He flicked her taut nipple with his tongue, torturing her with the tight sensation before pulling it into his mouth and sucking hard until she moaned his name.

Her hands tore at his shirt and she didn’t care if she reduced it to shreds as long as it came off. He lifted his head and got to his knees to help her, the thickly corded muscles of his chest and arms bunching and moving. The sunshine through the window made him seem an angel wrapped up in a full-body halo. In contrast, the light only painted her harshly. It stripped her bare more effectively than being without clothes, highlighting the harsh transitions between flesh and iron, exaggerating the dull gray metal that had taken over so much of her body.

“You are absolutely perfect,” he murmured, drawing her gaze back up to his. The understanding in his eyes told her just how transparent she was.

She knew she had to stop thinking of herself as broken, and for the most part that was coming along. At least as well as could reasonably be expected. She was even able to appreciate what the doctor had done for her when he fitted her with new limbs, but there was something about being in this room, the ghostly trappings of her dancing career all around her…

She sat up and reached for him with her hand—the one that could feel the warmth in his skin and the beating of his heart beneath her palm—and laid it over his chest. “As are you. Make love to me, husband.”

Without words, he lifted her onto his lap until she straddled him, pulling her close and holding her in a tight embrace. He buried his hand in her hair once more, crushed his lips to hers and kissed her with such intensity, she felt as if he’d been holding back since their return home.

“Yes.” She swiveled her hips, grinding against the hard length of his cock through his trousers. Why was he still wearing clothes when she was naked and eager, hot and wet, and oh so ready to be filled by him? “Oh yes. Hurry. Please hurry.”

“Callie,” he groaned, burying his face in the curve of her neck. His heaving breaths seared her skin and she threw her head back. The action lifted her breasts as if to demand their own share of his attention, and like a child distracted by a new toy he complied, taking her nipple back into his mouth.

Pleasure speared through her and she clutched his head, begging him for more. Then suddenly he was standing, lifting her with him. He pressed her spine to the wall, fumbling between their bodies to free himself before pulling her legs around his waist.

They hadn’t tried this position since she’d been fitted with her new legs, but he more than proved they were capable of it. With his trousers still hanging on his waist, he cupped her bottom and she braced her hands on his shoulders as he finally…finally pushed inside her.

“Christ, you feel so damn good.” He thrust hard and fast, wrenching a broken cry from her lips. “I’ve tried to give you time. I wanted to make sure—”

“Shut up, Jasper.” With her eyes closed, she could only feel. Feel the slick glide of his cock and the bunching of his muscles under her hand, the firm grasp of his fingers clasping her buttocks as he guided her body down on him.

“I needed you to feel safe again,” he continued anyway in a groaning rush. “And. I. Never. Ever.” His harshly spoken words matched the timing of his deep strokes. “Want to. Hurt you. Again.”

She tightened her legs around him. Every one of his driving thrusts slammed her against the wall. Her breasts bounced. Her heart pounded. The tremors of her climax startled her with their suddenness and intensity, tearing her apart and throwing her back just in time for his next thrust to start her going all over again until he followed her into the whirlwind of sensation with a gritted shout.

When the day came back into focus, Jasper planted his forehead against the wall beside her. He fought to catch his breath. She smiled until she realized her legs were still squeezing his hips and might actually be hurting him, although he’d never say so.

She tried to let her legs down, but they didn’t respond. With a grunt, she tried again, but it was as if everything below her waist had frozen. She pushed on his shoulders, heart pounding just as quickly as it had a moment ago in the throes of her orgasm, but now for a much different reason. Jasper seemed reluctant to let her go but stepped back and helped her regain her footing on the smooth surface of the floor.

Thankfully, she remained standing and after a long moment she could even move with small, halting steps. He didn’t appear to notice her distress.

They dressed quietly. Jasper found his shirt and pulled it on, quickly putting himself back to rights while she moved much more slowly, periodically testing her legs, which seemed perfectly fine.

She finished the last snap of her shirt, and he pulled her into his arms, kissed her lightly on the lips. Her nose. Her forehead. His hand brushed her shoulder and traveled down her arm, and she gave him her full attention.

He started to pull away, but she stopped him, feeling the need to say…something. Should she tell him what the doctor said? No, not yet. It still hurt too much and he would take that on his own shoulders. “You’ve never hurt me, Jasper. We’ve been over this before. I don’t blame you for what happened, not anymore.”

“I know.” He reached up to caress her cheek, but his smile didn’t begin to hide the strain that pulled his features tight. “If only I could stop blaming myself.”