The Blood of a Baron - K.J. Jackson Page 0,3
dent in the rock-hard set of his jaw. “You’re not looking at him, Laney.”
With a snort of breath she charged to the back of the wagon. “He’s my brother, Wes, and I don’t care what he looks like—I have to see him. I have to or I’ll never believe it. Not for real.”
She flipped her foot onto the back of the wagon and hauled herself up again.
“Laney.”
Standing tall on the bed of the wagon, her look whipped down to him, the edges of her mouth turning into a snarl. “You haven’t cared for me in years—no, strike that—you never cared for me so don’t you dare start to pretend at this juncture.”
She moved along the side of the coffin again, her fingers reaching for the lid.
Wes thrust his steel arm in and over the side of the wagon, wrapping it around her waist and wrenching her from the side of the casket once more.
Her fingernails went to his arm, scratching the back of his hand, trying to wedge herself free. “Put me down, you bloody oaf.”
He set her down gently this time, her boots crunching solidly into the gravel. His arm stayed in place around her waist, the back of her body tight to the length of him. Tight to the body of the man that curdled her tongue.
Her lips pulled back, words seething. “Let me go.”
“No.”
“No?” She twisted in his arm with a screech, clawing at him, trying to get an angle to look at his face.
He yanked her hard into his body, the soft of her hitting the iron mass of him and taking the breath out of her.
His mouth dropped to her ear, his voice a rumble of thunder and lightning and destruction. “You’re not going to see him. I’m not letting you go until you agree to that fact.”
“You bloody beast—he’s my brother and I need to see him.”
“No, you don’t.” His lips lifted away from her ear, but the clamp across her waist was stronger than ever. “And I can—will—hold you here all day if that’s what it takes.”
“Of all the odious, tyrannical edicts, this is far above them all.”
He didn’t budge.
A growl of frustration left Laney’s lips. “Fine.”
His fingers slowly peeled away from her side and he released her.
The second she was free of his arm, she darted toward the back of the wagon. He could hold her all day. It wouldn’t stop her from trying to get to the casket all day.
He snatched her wrist, jerking her to a stop just as she rounded the back of the wagon.
How in the blasted hell did a man so big move so fast?
Her glare met his. “I need to see my brother, Wes. You have no right to keep me away from him.”
For a long breath—a torture of time—he said nothing, his dark eyes crushing her. He blinked and shook his head. “It was his face, Laney—you’ll not recognize him.”
Her head snapped back. “What?”
“I saw it—it’s him. I swear it. But I’ll not allow you to look into that casket.”
“You’re lying. You’re just being cruel because that’s what you are.”
His mouth clamped shut, his jaw shifting back and forth. Patience had never been his forte—especially with her. “Have I ever lied to you?”
A bitter guffaw left her mouth. “No. No, you’ve always been painfully truthful with me, telling me exactly what you thought. What you thought of me. Down to every last vicious word you’ve ever uttered to me.”
His cheek twitched. “So I’m not lying now. It’s Morton. I swear it.”
It was there.
In his dark hazel eyes.
The truth. Truth that she didn’t want to hear. Truth that she didn’t want coming from his mouth. Of all people, why should he be the last person to see her brother? What gave him that right? He didn’t deserve it.
No right at all.
Tears suddenly welled in her eyes. Not now. Damn her blubbering.
Her look dropped from his face and she hiccupped a breath, twisting her wrist in the clamp of his hand.
He dropped her arm.
She looked to the black casket, staring at it. Deciding. What little fight she still possessed quickly draining away.
He wasn’t going to let her see Morton.
He’d set his mind to it. And if she knew one true thing about Wes, it was that once his mind was set, he didn’t veer. Right or wrong.
She turned from him, turned from the wagon, her forefingers clasping along the bridge of her nose, attempting to quell her tears.
Seconds of silence, of her quivered breaths.
His hand landed on