Indebted Epilogue (Indebted #7) Page 7

  Nila smiled, snapping the happy moment with the camera. The same camera Tex bought us for our wedding anniversary last year. At the time, I was grateful but not overly-excited.

  In my world, photos and videos had been a reminder of bad things. I’d prefer not to catalogue such recollections. However, that was before I thumbed through a stack of prints Nila had taken of me playing unaware with Kes and the foxhounds one afternoon.

  I’d frozen. So sure the man she’d captured was a total stranger. I didn’t see the guy in the mirror staring back every day when I shaved. I looked upon a man who knew his place, loved his place, and was happy. Truly happy.

  My heart glowed as my wife clicked and imprisoned special portraits of Emma’s fifth birthday. That camera—something so small and simple—had become so precious, capturing irreplaceable memories, colouring moments of treasured time.

  In my spare time—not that I had much between running the Hawk empire and raising two demanding children—I dabbled in film exposure. I’d transformed one of the many parlours in the Hall into a dark room. I preferred the old-fashioned way of developing. I got to touch the faces of my children, be the first to witness my wife’s stunning smiling lips as the chemicals morphed her from nothing, to black and white, to vibrant colour.

  Almost like how she’d brought me to life with her love, breaking me free from my self-imposed prison and granting magical pigment to my world.

  Kestrel grabbed the edge of the table, throwing his head back dramatically for the birthday song. “Happy birthday to Velcro Smells. Happy birthday to you!”

  I rolled my eyes as Nila bopped him on the head. “Don’t call your sister that.”

  Kes rubbed his tussled hair. “What? She does.”

  “I do not.” Emma stuck her tongue out. “You smell. You stink like, like, like…a hedgehog.”

  Nila bit her lip so she didn’t laugh.

  I couldn’t stop myself. My eyes met Jasmine’s, and she burst into giggles. “A hedgehog? What the hell?” My sister looked at my wife. “Where have you been letting them play? I had no idea hedgehogs even had a smell?”

  Vaughn bent over, coming back from the kitchen where he’d pilfered a few of last year’s brew. This mix wasn’t thistle and elderberry like at my father’s birthday so many years ago, but lavender and honeysuckle. The liquor was strong, but I doubted I’d ever grow a palate where I would crave it. I preferred the expensive cache of cognac we had in the cellar. Not that I needed alcohol to be happy.

  Thanks to Nila and my children, I lived in a state of bliss. Even when Kestrel and Emma were cranky and tangled with childhood emotions, I still basked in their love. I learned how to let my condition have full control of me because I had nothing to fear by soaking up the feelings of my beloved family.

  Nila put down the camera and came to stand beside me. Her hand landed on her daughter’s fuzzy black hair. Her face tilted toward mine, and we shared a brief kiss. Her eyes shot a silent message. I’m having you the moment it’s appropriate.

  My gaze hooded. I’m having you regardless of appropriate time or not. The minute this cake is cut, you’re mine.

  She sucked in a breath.

  Forcing myself to look away and remain tethered to the room full of people, I smiled at the family and friends celebrating Emma’s birthday. It drained me—so many people in one space all at once—but the afternoon of medieval games with jousting, dress-up, bouncy castles, and even a re-enacted sword fight had been worth the emotional strain. All day we’d had a child’s dream out on the front lawn with water pistols and a petting zoo—combining old-world charm with modern simplicity.

  Emma and Kestrel had explored every secret I’d set up for them and my chest warmed with pride to think I’d given them more than a childhood day of fun—I’d given them a happy childhood, and that was immeasurably priceless.

  Merged voices rose together, singing the final line of the song. “Happy birthday to you!”

  The burly men of the Black Diamonds—the ones vetted, vouched, and commanded by Flaw all clapped and cheered. V hipped and hoorayed, waving his arms and stealing a giggle from Emma while Tex shoved the five candle cake closer toward my daughter.

  Five years old.

  Fuck, time flies fast.

  My heart twinged like it always did on big occasions. Small occasions, too. Every moment when I stopped and took the time to wonder how I got so fucking lucky. In those same seconds, I often thought of Kes. I remembered my brother, I missed our friendship, and I ached to share what I’d been given.

  The guilt of his death still coagulated my heart. He shouldn’t have died. If anyone deserved to survive during the massive purge of evil in my family, it was him. Nila knew how I felt, how I struggled to be deserving that I lived and he didn’t.

  She helped me accept it. And time helped soothe it.

  Kes might not be with us physically, but sometimes, I’d get a sense of his quiet humour as I wandered around the Hall. I liked to believe a part of him remained with us, watching over us until our time came to join him.

  “Make a wish.” Nila bent over, holding Emma’s hair from catching fire as she jumped up in her chair and puffed her tiny cheeks. The little hellion planted her hands on the table, about to face plant into the pale pink icing of the castle cake.

  “Wait.” Nila shook her head. “Before you blow, did you make a wish?”

  My ears pricked. I wanted to know what my daughter wished for so I could make it come true. My entire existence was to make sure every desire materialized. Within reason, of course. I wouldn’t raise a spoiled brat.

  Emma pouted, her eyes locked on the cake. “I made one already.” She bounced in her frilly pink tutu. “Please, can I blow? I wanna blow. I made a wish. This is taking forever. I want cake!”

  Kes laughed. “She’s crazy.”

  I pinched his arm. “Don’t call your sister crazy.”

  He slapped my hand playfully. “Whatever. You’re crazy. Mums crazy. We’re all crazy.”

  Well, I couldn’t really argue with his logic.

  “Muuuumm!” Emma squealed. “Let me blow!”

  Nila laughed, letting her go. “Go on then, make sure you blow all five out at once. Otherwise, your wish won’t come true.”

  Emma froze, soaking in that vital piece of information. She glared at the cake as if she’d wage war on the frosting rather than eat it.

  She’s so damn fierce.

  I smiled.

  She took after her mother.

  Nila’s black eyes met mine. She whispered under her breath, “Do you think she wished for a prince, a pony, or one of those silly flying fairies she saw last week at the store?”

  I wrapped my arms around her middle, pulling her back to my front. I kissed the soft skin of her throat above the diamond collar. “I don’t care. I’ll make sure she has every one.”

  Her heart thudded against mine. “Even the prince?”

  I reared back. “Hell, no. As far as I’m concerned, she’s the next Rapunzel. Hawksridge has plenty of towers to keep her in.”

  Nila giggled. “Good luck with that. She’ll just scale it and run.”

  “Run?” I nuzzled the back of her ear. Two words never failed to get a rise out of me. Run and Kiss. ‘Run’ because it reminded me of Nila being brave enough to try and escape, and ‘kiss’ because it was the moment she broke me and made me hers.

  Emma had inherited her mother’s bravery and exceeded even her brother in tree climbing acrobatics. I didn’t know where she got the skill, but she loved being in the treetops more than on the ground.

  A sudden memory of Nila hiding naked in the trees filled my mind. Blood siphoned through my body, swelling my cock. I subtly pressed my hips into her arse. “Talking of trees and running…”

  She tensed then melted. Her arm looped up and behind her to secure around my neck. “If you bring a plaid blanket, I’ll make sure to give you what I gave you then.”

  Kissing her cheek, I breathed, “Done.” Lowerin
g my voice even more, I whispered, “You really have to stop using those words. It’s highly inappropriate that I’m hard at my daughter’s birthday party.”

  Nila swivelled in my arms, planting her mouth to mine. Her lips fed me kisses as well as barely audible conversation. “You really have to stop making me love you so damn much.” Her eyes met mine. “Can you feel it? How overflowing I am? How I don’t know how to contain it tonight? I just…I need you.”

  The rest of the room faded—the world always did when Nila touched me.

  “I do. I feel it.”

  She cocked her head. “What does it feel like?”

  I glanced at Emma, who still hadn’t decided how to blow all the candles out at once. “It feels like slipping into the hot springs beneath the Hall. Warmth and contentment lapping around me with a slight edge of pain from being too hot. But, unlike the hot springs, I don’t have the discomfort of knowing I’ll have to climb back into the cold and leave the warmth behind. You give it to me constantly.”

  Nila kissed my cheek. “You’ll never be cold again.” The double meaning of her words—that I would never be unloved again—throbbed.

  Clearing my throat, I pushed her away and invited the room back into my attention. “Keep saying things like that and we won’t see the rest of the party.”

  Nila half-laughed, half-scowled. “I’m torn in which I want more.” Turning, she faced the table and Emma.

  Kes rolled his eyes, never looking away from his sister, waiting impatiently for dessert. “Come on already.”

  “Pushy.” Emma grinned, puffing out her little cheeks. Her lungs expanded and she blew raspberries rather than air but managed to get the flames to turn into curling spirals of smoke.

  The room erupted into claps and cheers.

  Emma didn’t acknowledge the bikers or billionaires, secure in her place within their adoration. However, she did squeal and dance uncoordinatedly on her chair.

  Nila grabbed Emma’s tutu, just in case she toppled over. “Good girl. I have no doubt all your wishes will come true.”

  Kes stood by, his mouth watering. He didn’t care his sister’s spit just ended up all over the cake with her blowing attempt. All he wanted was sugar. Kid turned high as a damn kite whenever he had sweets. In that respect, he didn’t remind me of his namesake. My brother had never truly let himself go—never been crazy or adolescently stupid.

  At the time, I thought it was just him, but now, I think he did it for me. If he’d let himself get carried away, I wouldn’t have had any choice but to be carried away, too.

  Letting Nila go, I slipped my hand into my back pocket and squeezed the hidden box. Nila had seen this gift, but Emma hadn’t. It would be the last present but the most valuable.

  All day Emma had gratefully accepted gifts. I loved that she genuinely appreciated everything—from socks and sherbet to a new swing-set and pony. Her young emotions filled my heart to bursting, and in an odd way, I was able to relive my childhood through her, replacing unhappy times with excellent ones.

  “Down. Down. I want to get down.” Emma pointed at the floor.

  Nila calmly plucked Emma from the chair, placing her on the travertine. “Don’t go anywhere. I believe Daddy has a present for you while I cut the cake.”

  Nila’s black eyes met mine. We’d been together for such a short amount of years, yet it felt like she’d been mine for eternity. I would never grow sick of waking with her in my bed, or sharing my breakfast with her by my side, or helping her sew late at night even though her needles drew more of my blood than I liked.

  I love you.

  She beamed. I know.

  Tearing my gaze from hers, I dropped to my haunches and motioned Emma to come closer. It was surreal to protect and raise children named after two people who had meant the world to us; two people who’d died in the war between our houses. Kestrel had adopted some of my brother’s quirks, but not all, and Emma doted on Textile in a way that made me wonder if she suffered a little of my condition.

  There was no avoiding the avalanche of love and underlying despair from Tex that his wife wasn’t there to see her grandchildren grow. Emma would hold his hand and sit quietly on his lap, plastering up his hurt with quiet affection.

  Taking my daughter’s hand, I looked toward the outskirts of the room. My sister-in-law, Jacqueline, lingered in the background. She’d come for a few days to celebrate Emma’s birthday but couldn’t shake the wariness the Hall invoked in her. Hawksridge had not been kind to the Weavers, and she hadn’t accepted her lineage that easily.

  Nila and Vaughn had gone out of their way to welcome Jacqueline into their midst, but she’d been raised differently. She’d been a single child in a stuck-up family. She didn’t know how to handle large gatherings—and in that respect, I could relate.

  We had happier times when we visited her in Cornwall—where Jacquie lived with her husband. There, on her own turf, her emotions were relaxed and confident while she lavished her little niece and nephew with love and antidotes.

  She was a good aunt. However, her spiky black hair couldn’t be any different to Nila’s river of ebony. She shared the same eyes, same figure, same liquid grace, though.

  Nila and Vaughn grew up believing they were twins; to find out they were triplets had taken some getting used to. However, the underlying history and mystery kept a moat from forming an intricate bond just yet.

  In time, it would form. Nila would eventually warm her sister and help her dispel the remorse that she wasn’t there to help. Shame was a powerful thing and Jacqueline couldn’t shake the regret that she’d been firstborn by a few minutes, yet she hadn’t paid the debt.

  She didn’t even fully understand the ramifications of the debt. Didn’t care to dive too deep into history.

  My heart thundered. If Jacqueline hadn’t been secreted away and hidden, she would’ve been mine, not Nila. And the end to the Debt Inheritance might’ve been completely different, because even though I tolerated Jacqueline, I didn’t connect with her. Her emotions were scatty and undeveloped compared to her sister. She would never have had the power to reach into my ice and shatter me from its hold.

  My arms itched to hug Nila again. To thank her. To love her for being her.

  So I did.

  Straightening from my crouch, I quickly embraced my wife before dropping back to my haunches in front of Emma.

  Nila accepted my hug with a soft smile, almost as if she’d followed my thoughts.

  Emma smelled of cheese puffs and sausage rolls from the special treat for her birthday dinner. “Did you enjoy riding Hocus Pocus today?”

  Emma clapped her hands. “I did. She’s amazing. Can I go again? Right now?”

  I swam in her infectious energy. “Not tonight. Tomorrow. We’ll all go for a ride over the chase.”

  “Can we bring the birds? And the hounds? And Nemo?”

  “Nemo?”

  Emma looked at Nila. “You said you’d ask, Mummy.”

  Nila rolled her eyes affectionately. “Nemo is Emma’s name for a kitten we saw advertised in the village. I told her we had more than enough pets.” Ruffling her hair, she smiled. “You just got a pony. That’s enough animal presents.”

  Emma pouted. I tensed against childish demands, but she balanced her emotions with such maturity, that pride washed through me.

  “I know. Hocus is amazing.” Leaning in, she pecked my cheek. “Thank you, Daddy.”

  My heart shattered with love.

  It’d taken almost a year to source the perfect foal for Emma. I’d ordered a filly from the breeder who’d given me the colt for Kes.

  At almost eight years old, Kes had become a proficient rider and rode with me daily, trotting beside me, cantering with courage, exploring the borders of Hawksridge as I taught him the value of land and heritage. Now, Emma could join us on her midnight filly called Hocus Pocus.

  Letting Emma’s sticky hands go, I reached into my back pocket for the box. Passing it to her, the room quieted as I kisse
d her soft cheek. “This will mean more to you when you’re older, but I wanted you to have it now. Promise me you’ll take great care of it and never lose it.”

  Her black hair bobbed as she nodded furiously. “I promise.”

  I laughed softly as she grabbed the red box and cracked it open. She had enough experience opening jewellery boxes. One of her favourite places was Diamond Alley and raiding Nila’s precious collection. She said she wanted her mother’s collar—even tried to pry it off one day with a nail file. Little did she know that it would’ve been on her little neck if she’d been born to another man in another time with the Debt Inheritance still in affect.

  She was a Weaver girl. But now that name didn’t come with such a curse.

  Her little mouth parted as she took in the black diamond necklace I’d shown Nila the day I officially asked her to marry me.

  Nila caught my gaze, twirling her engagement ring, letting me know her thoughts were with mine. She didn’t need my condition to understand me—that came from unconditional love and a lifetime of listening to each other.

  Helping Emma remove the chain from inside the box, I dangled the teardrop in front of her. “This is very special. Do you recognise the stone?”

  “Yes.” Her black hair bounced.

  I’d never met a brighter child. She could memorize and recite diamond cuts and their flaws and attributes. She’d learned a few words in Swahili last time we were in Africa and even given the kids at kindergarten clothing advice from watching Nila effortlessly pin and style simple calico into a glorious gown.

  She was a perfect blend of both of us. A magical piece of Nila and me.

  “Where did you see the stone?”

  She pointed at Nila’s left hand. “Mummy’s ring and bracelet.”

  “That’s right. And now you have one, too.”

  “Because you love me as much as her?”

  I laughed, gathering her in a hug. Kestrel moved in grabbing distance and I squeezed him in a group hug. “Because I love both of you as much as her. I love you all.”

  Nila subtly wiped sudden dampness from her cheeks, busying herself with cutting the cake. Jaz rolled closer, helping stack paper plates and take those full with pink frosting to a few of the Black Diamond brothers and family.