Queen of Men: King Maker Series Book 2 Read online

  Queen of Men

  King Maker series

  Terri E. Laine

  Advanced Readers Copy Edition

  Copyright 2019 Terri E. Laine

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used factiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. The scanning, uploading and distribution of the book via the Internet or via any other means without permission is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchased only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support for the author’s rights is appreciated. For information address to SDTEL Books.

  Michele @ Michele Catalano Creative - cover design

  Sara Eirew - cover picture

  Author’s Note

  If you want to know when my next release will come out, please sign up for my newsletter. https://www.subscribepage.com/terrielaine

  If you are a fan of this series or me, make sure you join my fan group. Terri’s Butterflies

  And you can join my reader group to talk books. Terri E. Laine Reader Group

  Contents

  THIS IS NOT A STANDALONE -

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Thank You

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Terri E. Laine

  THIS IS NOT A STANDALONE -

  This CANNOT be READ as a STANDALONE.

  You MUST READ Money Man FIRST.

  One

  Time had stopped, or so it seemed. It wasn’t just because my car had been the only one around. Or that the rustic and rural landscape held a few community members walking down a dirt path garbed in gear fit for Pilgrims. No, it was like time had skipped over Turner.

  My fingers ached to disappear in his dark brown waves that danced in the light breeze. His hair, perhaps a bit longer than I remembered, framed his boyish brown eyes. In turn, he looked me over as if drinking me in.

  “Bailey,” he said, a nail caught between his teeth and a hammer held at his side. He shoved his free hand into brown britches, which were a touch lighter in color than his hair.

  Tall as he had been, he’d grown into his body, no longer the lanky boy I remembered, but a man who could easily carry me across the fields if he liked.

  Regret laced his words and I had to glance down, feeling the weight of them.

  “Your father’s not here,” he continued.

  I wasn’t surprised to see him at our house, despite what my father had caught us doing. I’d been the sinner, the temptress.

  Steeling my spine, I lifted my chin and met his lovely golden eyes as remorse grew heavy in my gut.

  His pensive expression washed the wonder off my face. Most likely, he was remembering the past the same as I was and all there had been between us. If I’d guessed he would be the first person I’d see, I would have mentally prepared myself.

  Words became a piece of paper balled up in my mouth that mentally were tossed down my throat. What could I say? Hi, I’m sorry I ran off and left you behind. Oh, and our wedding? Sorry I missed it.

  “Can we go somewhere and talk?” I asked.

  Wasn’t it better to rip the Band-Aid off and have the conversation I should have had years ago?

  His hand came out of his pocket and removed the nail from between his teeth. “Sure. Give me a second.”

  My heart clenched. Its staccato beats stuttered at the thought of what he would say. Although I’d seen him once since I’d left, we hadn’t said much then.

  He turned back to the front of the house and began to hammer away.

  “How long are you planning to stay?” Turner had spoken so casually, it didn’t feel like the beginning of an inquisition.

  “I’m not sure.”

  The sun had spun a halo over him like a golden fog. I looked into his eyes and was transported back in time to a memory that eclipsed our relationship.

  PAST

  Summer was in heat that long ago day, with sweat our only respite. The flies and gnats were particularly bothersome, swarming around in search of their next smorgasbord. I’d just cleaned up from breakfast when Turner came knocking. His presence at my door wasn’t unusual.

  My being at home this time of day was. It was deemed a holiday, the annual reminder of the day our founders had gotten together and made a plan about what our community would one day become. My body was accustomed to the early morning rise, and this day was no different. We’d eaten and everyone had scattered. I was sure Turner would be sleeping in, not having the same rules in his household I did. As a boy, his chores differed from mine.

  “Come on.” He smiled, holding out a hand.

  My parents had gone for the prayer and state of the community meeting with all the other adults in town. The rest of us were set free, which wasn’t very often.

  Stepping out onto the porch, I was greeted by a wall of humidity. “Where are we going?”

  I was ready for any adventure he had in mind and a bit starry-eyed too. I’d told no one but my older sister Violet about my blooming crush on my best friend. He’d always been just a boy I hung out with every day. But the older we got, the more I realized he was a boy. With him standing there, I ignored how weak in the knees I felt by just looking at him. Instead, I put on a nonchalant air.

  Shifting his weight a bit, he fidgeted. Turner was always full-on movement. Today, he seemed a bit nervous when he said, “You’ll see.” He took my hand and tugged me across the way into the awaiting trees.

  Once we entered the cover of the forest, the shade from the canopy of leaves took some of the bite out of the steamy day. The encroaching darkness and temperature drop sent a shudder through me. Tales about haunted woods roved in my head. As if he’d sensed my fear, his fingers threaded through mine. Tingles, not having anything to do with being afraid, shot to my belly, sparking a giggle. There was no denying this wasn’t an ordinary day.

  Once we made it to the familiar watering hole, the spike of fear of the woods disappeared. It was early and no one else had come yet. Most of the kids our age were probably lounging in bed because they could. I, on the other hand, was most assuredly wide awake.

  He only had to glance at me, and I knew what he was up to. His grip tugged me to the top of a boulder where an overhead tree branch loomed like an arm holding a rope. With his eyes fixed on mine, he tugged off his shoes and socks, tossing them aside. Then with a wicked glare, his shirt floated to the ground right before his pants. I gasped. It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen him in his under clothing before but, again, I felt as if an electric charge stirred the air around us.
Something was definitely amiss.

  His fiery hands joined with mine. Leaning in toward me, he loosed words that both thrilled and scared me.

  “My pa is going to ask yours for us to be married.” Without waiting for my response, he let go of my hand and took a flying leap, or rather a cannonball, into the lagoon below as I stood stunned by what he’d said.

  It wasn’t as if nightly before I fell asleep my brain hadn’t imagined us together a thousand times under the cover of darkness. Yet, I couldn’t move. I should have been getting undressed while his head was under the water as I’d done countless times before. To have him watch me undress was unthinkable. Still, I stood there as he broke the surface.

  “What are you waiting for?” he called out with a grin plastered to his face, along with his wet hair.

  My heart beat so fast, I thought it might burst through my budding chest.

  “Are you coming in or what?” His voice rang out in our private oasis. Trees surrounding the cove cloaked it in shadows with a burst of sunlight in the middle bouncing off the water.

  His question felt more like a choice, not only if I was going in, but was I all in. I made quick work of my dress, feeling his eyes burn on me. They were like the sun and pricked my skin, creating a need I didn’t understand. I was barely a teenager, wondering if I’d ever have breasts more than the tiny mounds that made it only slightly obvious I wasn’t a boy.

  As he waded, the water rippled around him. I shivered, clad only in my own underclothing, which was more than your average teenage girl wore outside the community. Covered from neck to knees, my arms and my calves were the only parts of me exposed. I dove in after giving silent thanks that my prayers had been answered. I’d prayed that if I had to marry and stay here in this forsaken place, I could do it with Turner at my side. Nervously, I wondered how he felt about it. Was it his family’s decision for us to be married? Though he’d told me, he hadn’t indicated that he liked the idea.

  The water cocooned me in its warm embrace. It kissed the top of my head before totally taking me under. I relished the quiet it brought for the few seconds before I broke the surface. Would I dare ask Turner how he felt, or should I leave it alone?

  That question was taken from me when I sprang free from the water’s depth and he swam toward me. Again, I shivered for no reason. The water was in no way cool. It had been heated since the first day of summer and only got as low as room temperature at night, or so I’d heard.

  “Did you hear me?” he asked, coming to a stop so close the breeze of his words touched my cheek.

  “Yes, does it bother you?” I asked, finding my courage. If Turner didn’t want this marriage, it was better to know now, so that I might influence my father.

  I would accept him as my husband, but not if he didn’t want me to.

  As was our custom, my hair had been bound. Turner reached around me and freed it. Wet, it sort of flopped around my shoulders. I dog paddled under the water and moved my arms about to keep me afloat. With him so close, I didn’t know what else to do.

  I was only fourteen, and he was a few years older. When he leaned in, my eyes grew wide. No boy had ever attempted to get this close with the intention I could plainly see written on his face.

  This sort of contact was forbidden, yet I didn’t stop him. I was thrilled that my first kiss wouldn’t be in front of a preacher and the wise eyes of my parents, along with the rest of the community. I was electrified that my first kiss was with my very best friend and the boy I secretly had a crush on, as had so many girls in our tiny one-room school.

  Like static, when his lips lightly brushed mine, I got a tiny jolt. He didn’t seem to notice and applied a little more pressure when I didn’t pull away. Because my limbs had stilled, I started to sink. His arm ghosted around me and held me up.

  When our kiss broke apart, I flailed about for a few seconds before I recovered. He laughed, looking totally amused. I pushed a wave of water at him and willed my cheeks to cool the red-hot blooms that colored them.

  Turner didn’t give up. He pulled my arm, directing me to a wall of earth. It led up to the perch we’d stood on before our descent into the forbidden. Should anyone come, we would be hidden there for precious seconds. Most entered through the path we had taken. Its trail had become worn over time, making it easier than coming through the thicket and risking torn clothing.

  The water wasn’t as deep where we were, and I could stand. Silent ripples reached my chin, and we continued staring at each other. This was new ground for us. I wanted to ask him if I was his first kiss, as he was mine. Yet, I was afraid he’d think me too young and change his mind. I’d always been that pesky little girl like a sister following on his heels.

  Looking at him now, I could see the man he was becoming. Talking like a little girl was out. I lowered my eyes from his challenging stare and saw a hint of stubble on his chin. Still, I held my head high, wanting to stare at his bare chest, but moved my eyes to his. I thought I’d won the battle of glances because he lowered his head. However, he stopped shy of kissing me. Yet, he continued caging me in.

  “What are you doing?” I challenged with faint amusement as he continued to stare at me, making me feel more self-conscious.

  There was no way my smile and twinkling eyes had said stop. Violet had warned me never to give in to a guy too quickly because they wouldn’t respect you. Her exact words were a girl has got to put up some fight. I’d already given in to the first kiss, but I didn’t want him to think my affection came easily.

  With a smirk, he confessed, “I’m kissing my future wife.”

  The way he spoke to me now was so different than it had been even just yesterday. He teased me, yes, made fun of me, yes. But never had his words spiked funny feelings in my body that were weird, yet exciting. My mind worked to process everything that was happening and commit it to memory so I could share it with Violet. I hoped she might explain those feelings later if Turner didn’t give me the answers.

  While I was distracted, he took advantage and did it again. He kissed me. This time his lips urged against mine. I was unsure of what to do.

  Not too long ago, I’d heard some older girls who were only months into marriage talking about kissing. They giggled and swapped stories while doing chores. I couldn’t help but eavesdrop. It wasn’t as if my mother was going to give me that information.

  My lips parted just like I’d heard the girls explain, and his tongue snuck into my mouth and touched mine. I allowed him to pull me closer, liking the way he felt against that tingling spot below my waist. Something grew between us, creating more delicious pressure that made me gasp. His hand moved to my hip and tentatively delved just barely under my wet clothing. His grinding motion was fogging my brain, and I wasn’t sure I had enough brain cells left to say stop.

  Two

  Kalen

  In one hand I held a box; the other was clenched so tightly my knuckles were white from it. I banged on the desk and not for the first time.

  My lips still burned with the taste of her, the lass. It had been so long since I allowed myself to kiss someone. Since—

  “What have you got there?”

  I looked up to see the one person in this world I could trust.

  He eyed the box in my hand and nodded at it.

  Giving in to his innate curiosity, I handed him the model car Bailey had so thoughtfully bought for my son.

  “Nice,” Griffin said. “Gabe’s sure to love it.”

  He would have loved her too, but I kept that to myself.

  I scrubbed a hand over my jaw, remembering the verbal slap Bailey had dished out.

  “She got it for him,” I admitted.

  Griffin’s grin widened. “The lass,” he said with amusement.

  I would regret calling her that in front of him.

  He pointed at me. “I knew I liked her. She’s a canny one. How did you feck it up?”

  I wanted to glare at him, but he wasn’t the cause of my rage.

 
“She knows,” I said, steepling my hands.

  He waggled a finger at me. “I warned ye. You should have told her after I dropped her off at work, confirming your suspicions.”

  “It doesn’t matter now.”

  I lifted my palm and Griffin looked at the box one last time before giving it back.

  “She paid a pretty penny for it,” he commented.

  I nodded. She had. In her haste to get away from me, she hadn’t removed the adhesive price tag.

  Griffin had run a background check on her at my request when I’d considered keeping her around longer than a one-time fuck. There were cunning women in this world, and one couldn’t be too careful.

  Her credit was clean, her savings modest, and her pay mediocre. But he’d found nothing to indicate she was, as the Americans would call it, a gold-digging social climber.

  “If you’re not serious about the lass,” he said, giving me a wink, “you should leave her be.”

  I glowered at my friend. “Too late for that.”

  She’d unknowingly wormed her way under my skin, becoming something I not only wanted, desired, but craved like the air I breathed.

  “You’re going to be late,” he said.

  I glanced at my watch. I had to get home. If there was one ritual I kept, it was making time for my son each and every day. I would not be my father, but a better one. Most days that meant dinner and getting him ready for bed. At the very least, I would read him a bedtime story on those nights when work demanded my attention.