InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity Redux: Metempsychosis ❯ Toxic ( Chapter 77 )

Ashur followed the butler down the corridor to the closed door of the European tai-youkai's office and stopped to wait with Jessa beside him, holding the copy of her father's will in her hands.  She shot him a quick glance, and he nodded.  As much as he hated to admit as much to her, he wasn't entirely sure, exactly what MacDonnough would say when faced with the proof that he'd been lying this whole time—or maybe not lying if he had, in fact, misplaced the copy of the will that had been handed over in trust.  Even so, that idea seemed just a little farfetched and entirely too convenient, in Ashur's estimation.  Whatever the case, it wouldn't really matter.  Jessa held the upper hand now, and there wasn't really a thing MacDonnough could do about it since it wouldn't be wise of him to try to beleaguer the point any longer.  With the absolute copy of the will, entirely notarized and officially witnessed, all Jessa would really have to do, if it came to that, was to present the document to Sesshoumaru Inutaisho, and he would have no choice but to override MacDonnough on this.

Which wasn't to say that Ashur thought for a moment that MacDonnough might well still try to use whatever stall tactics he had left at his disposal, just to be difficult.  It wouldn't matter in the long run, anyway, because, approval or not, Jessa was already his mate, and nothing short of death would separate them, and even death in its own way would be a transient separation, at best . . .

"My lord, Mr. Ashur Philips and the Lady Jessamyn O'Shea are here to see you," the butler said, poking his head into the office.

Ashur heard the tai-youkai's heavy sigh, as though he was being sorely put-upon.  "Fine.  Show them in."

The butler stepped back to allow Ashur and Jessa to enter and closed the door behind them.

MacDonnough was seated behind his prodigious desk, looking anything but pleased, given the unscheduled visit.

"Ah, the Zelig's newest general . . . and Lady O'Shea . . . To what do I owe the honor of your visit?" MacDonnough drawled, sounding anything but sincere and managing to inflict a full dose of venom into his otherwise cordial greeting as he slowly rose to his feet, drawing himself up to his full height, doubtless in an attempt to intimidate the both of them.  The gesture was lost on Ashur.  Jessa moved a little closer to his side.

"We've come to let you know that Jessa is now my mate," Ashur said, tone flat, almost bored.  "Jessa also thought that it'd be wise to inform you that she found a fully legitimate copy of her father's will—the same as the one that you have to have in your possession, given that he filed the same document with you."

Ashur could feel the spike in the tai-youkai's youki, the abrasive quality that seemed to stagnate the very air permeating the opulent chamber.  "I assure you, had I received the will, everything would have long been taken care of in an efficient manner," MacDonnough replied smoothly, though not before Ashur saw the way the man stiffened momentarily, the slight flaring of his steely gray eyes . . . "Let me have it, and I'll look it over when I have time."

Ashur's hand grasped Jessa's wrist before she could comply.  "I don't think so," he countered.  "Given that the other copy was . . . misplaced . . . in your keep, we would hate to see that happen to this one.  Jessa's holding the official one, but should you need one to look over . . ." He dug a copy of it out of his pocket and stepped forward to hand it over.  "We'll hang onto the original.  You understand."

MacDonnough slowly took the document, leveling a baleful glower at Ashur for his trouble.  "I assume the lady told you that she is not free to choose her own mate."

"Give up," Ashur growled.  "She's my mate, and it's really none of your business."

MacDonnough's face twisted into a cynical little sneer that only loosely resembled a smile.  "Except that there's the question of her father's title that needs to be addressed."

"I found the letters patent," Jessa spoke out.  "The marquissate of Aumberlese's patent expressly states that the title shall be bestowed upon my mate, should my parents fail to produce a son.  It has nothing at all to do with you.  So decreed by His Royal Highness, King George I in 1716, when the marquissate was first created because he was fully aware of the existence of youkai.  I have already taken the liberty of writing to the appropriate offices to have the title transferred as soon as possible."

"Which means very little when they will ask me for my opinion on the matter," MacDonnough replied.

"It's interesting," Ashur said before Jessa could reply.  "Niall O'Shea was convinced that Orlaith's death wasn't an accident at all," he went on.  "Now, Jessa would like to let go of the whole matter since it really won't do a thing to bring her parents back, but I'm not as convinced.  As the man who stands to gain this title, it'd be well within my right to file a formal inquiry about the matter with the local authorities . . . However, I could be persuaded to let it drop . . . if . . ."

Silver eyes flashing dangerously, MacDonnough glared at Jessa, and then at Ashur, before shifting his gaze to the copy of the will in his hands.  He'd understood Ashur's not-so-subtle threat easily enough.  He'd have to be stupid not to, and, though there were many things that MacDonnough was, stupid was not among them, and whether MacDonnough had ordered someone else to tamper with the fuel lines or not, he was the ultimate mastermind, wasn't he?  Despite the thickness of the actual will, the most important parts of it were in the first few pages, and MacDonnough's jaw ticked as he slowly read through it all.  "I . . . accept that this is a copy of your father's Last Will and Testament," he finally ground out, holding out his hand impatiently for the official copy that Jessa still held.  "I assume that you had the foresight to bring your signet ring?"

Ashur managed to keep his expression blanked as Jessa stepped forward.  MacDonnough leafed through her copy, making sure that it was exactly the same, Ashur supposed, and he looked like he might well be positively seething as he stuck a stick of red sealing wax into the flame of a candle burning on his desk.  After a few moments, he smeared the wax onto the first page of the document, followed in quick order by smashing his signet ring into the melted wax before handing the stick to Jessa to repeat the process.  She did, and he handed it over to her, snatching up the photocopy with a darkened scowl.  "I shall arrange the release of all of your accounts and properties by the end of the day,” he growled.  "I trust that concludes your business here?"

Satisfied that they'd gotten everything that they'd come for, Ashur pasted on a tepid smile, mostly to irritate the tai-youkai just a little more.  "We can see ourselves out," he offered.  "By the end of the day," he repeated.

MacDonnough flicked a hand dismissively as he flopped down in his chair once more.  "On my word," he gritted out.

Ashur nodded and held the door open for Jessa.

She said nothing until they were safely closed in the rental car once more, and then, she sighed.  "He . . . He's really angry, isn't he?"

"Of course, he is."

She bit her lip, staring out the window as Ashur negotiated the car along the winding driveway of the tai-youkai's estate.  "And . . . And it'll be over when he releases everything?  Do you think he'll do it?"

Ashur shot her a quick smile.  "It'd be stupid for him to drag it out," he told her.  "I don't think he can, at this point."

She heaved a sigh—a long, dark sigh full of emotions she hadn't really articulated since they'd finally discovered her father's will.  Turning her attention out the window once more, she seemed to settle in for the long drive back to Belfast.
Letting out a deep breath, he refreshed his grip on the steering wheel.  "Do you want to find a hotel for the night?" he asked.  He didn't mind the drive at all, but she seemed more than a little restless.  She hadn't gotten much sleep last night, tossing and turning well into the night, only to doze off just before he'd had to wake her so that they could get a very early start on the five-hour drive up into the Highlands of Scotland where Ian MacDonnough liked to hole up.  But she also hadn't wanted to put the altercation off for even one more day, not that he could blame her.  She wanted to go home, she said, so the sooner they could get things squared away, the better.

"Only if you want to," she replied.  "I just want to finish putting things to rights . . . I miss Kells."

She also hadn't yet read the letter from her mother, either.  Of course, Ashur hadn't read the one from her father, but somehow, he felt like he ought to wait until she was ready before he did . . .

And then, there was the whole title thing, too, and, truthfully, Ashur wasn't too keen on the idea of being bestowed with the title of the next Marquess of Aumberlese . . . Jessa had assured him that it wasn't really a big deal, that he wouldn't be required to do much of anything, but it would allow them to keep the estate of Aumberlese, which, in her mind, wasn't that big of a deal, but, given that it had been in her family since the early 1700s, she wanted to keep it.

Which wouldn't have been an issue otherwise, but, given that the wording of the letters patent, given that the entire thing was set up so long ago, back before it became more commonplace for women to be allowed to inherit their father's titles, it was worded in such a way that allowed for the title to be kept from being abandoned.  She'd mentioned, too, that the last time the Marquess of Aumberlese had been asked to sit in at the House of Lords was in her grandfather's day, so it wouldn't be an issue that they'd rarely be in Great Britain, anyway.  The only thing that might be required, and that was only if someone decided to raise a fuss over it, was that he might well have to gain citizenship in the UK, but they'd worry about that if it became an issue later.

Ashur sighed.  In truth, it was hard to believe that all of this was nearly finished—something that really shouldn't have taken the length of time that it had, and, had her father not had the foresight to keep a copy of the will, then it'd still all be up in the air . . .

It'd all be done, hopefully within hours . . . as long as MacDonnough kept his word, anyway . . .

Jessa let out a deep breath and tugged on the belt of the thick and cozy robe before stepping out of the master bathroom and into the airy bedroom, fighting to ignore the bittersweet pang that shot through her as she tried not to think about her parents, as she tried not to hear their laughter, their murmured words . . .

She wasn't at all sure that she liked being put in here, but she also felt like it was something she had to do, that, like it or not, it was a change that she would have to deal with at some point.  Maybe it wouldn’t bother her as much at the other estates, but here, where she'd spent the bulk of her time during her growing-up-years . . .

And she frowned.  Ashur, as sweet as he was trying to be, felt so distant to her here, so . . . removed.  Maybe it was all in her own head, but she couldn't stand that feeling, either.  Perhaps it had something to do with the more formal feel Dunborough held.  Funny how she'd never noticed that before.  Something about it seemed to lend Ashur a far more commanding kind of air, almost an inapproachable quality, even if it was all in her head.

Ashur strode into the bedroom, holding the will in one hand, a thoughtful frown on his face as he held the phone to his ear.  "No, that would be fine," he said, stepping aside as Nora hurried in behind him, pushing a tray of covered dishes arranged on a cart.  "Thank you for your expediency."

Nora said nothing, pushing the cart over to the small table near the towering window nearby.

Ashur ended the phone call and dropped the device into his pocket before turning to face Jessa.  "That was MacDonnough.  He's released the holds on all of your accounts—now all in your name—and has issued a courier with your parents' death certificates so that everything else can be handled by Lachlan Dunbyrne, your family attorney.  So, unless there's anything else that he might need, we're free to go home whenever you wish . . . but there's no hurry.  I mean, if you want to stay here longer, we could always fly Kells over . . ."

She smiled and stepped forward to slip her arms around his waist.  "I don't want him to miss school, and I don't know how hard it'd be to have Puff-Puff brought over, too . . ."

Nora finished setting up their dinner and then pushed the cart out of the room once more and closed the door behind herself.

Ashur rubbed her back idly, slowly.  "Do you want me to go ahead and book a flight home?"

She considered that and nodded as she held onto him for another long moment before letting her arms drop away.  "I just want things to be normal for a while," she said.  "I want to catch my breath so that I . . . I want—need—to know where I stand with . . . with you . . . with everything . . ."

Ashur chuckled and pulled out a chair at the table for Jessa.  "That's easy for me," he told her.  "You . . . You stand above everything to me."

"Except Kells," she corrected, arching a delicate brow at him.

Slipping into his chair, he shrugged.  "Why?  Why do I need to put one of you above the other?  The two of you . . . You're both the parts that make up the greatest portion of who I am . . . If I were missing either of you, I . . ." He grimaced, gaze falling to the plate before him.  "I need both of you."

She considered his words as she reached for her fork, as she picked at the lamb stew that smelled absolutely delicious, and the appetite that had been missing for the last few days suddenly reared its head as her stomach grumbled loudly.  "And do you have enough space in there for more?"

"More?" he echoed, handing her a thick slice of bread from the basket in the center of the table.  "More, what?"

Shrugging in what she hoped was an off-handed kind of way, she stabbed a hunk of meat.  "More children," she said simply.  "I mean, whenever . . ."

He chuckled, his gaze, brightening with his amusement.  "Blinker Trotsky, huh . . .?"

Biting her lip as she spared a glance at him, she could only blink and stare at the cautious sense of wonder in his expression.  "W-Well, I-I-I . . . I’m no’ sure about that name, but . . . Sometime," she blurted, cheeks pinking as she set her fork aside.  "A-A-Any time . . ."

He smiled, a cautious, almost timid smile.  "Any time?"

She grimaced.  "It's just . . . You know, I always wondered what it'd be like, if I had a brother or a sister . . . I was always a wee bit jealous of the other children . . . There was a girl in my dance class who had a twin brother, and they were so close . . ."

Ashur considered that and slowly nodded.  "I can understand that," he allowed.  "I mean, I often wondered that, myself.  We were all born so far apart that it was like being an only child."

Suddenly, she giggled, lifting her fork again.  "You know, I always thought that humans were lucky."

"Lucky?" he repeated?  What do you mean by that?"

She shrugged.  "I just think it'd be neat, not knowing the very moment you got pregnant . . . Everything's so planned out with us . . . I think that would be a very interesting thing . . ."

He chuckled.  "What are you saying?" he parried, reaching for his wine glass as he settled back in his chair.

She frowned thoughtfully for a moment. "Can you do that?  Can you surprise me with a baby?  I mean, whenever it feels right?"

He blinked and slowly shook his head.  "So, you're saying you want me to . . . just decide when to get you pregnant and not tell you or discuss it with you first?"

She considered that, and then she nodded.  "I think it would be fun not to know," she allowed.

He laughed, draining the glass in one long, slow quaff.  "If that's what you want," he told her.  "Let's get your estate settled first, and see what happens from there."

Popping a small chunk of potato into her mouth, she couldn't help the smile that kept resurfacing.  "A darling little boy who looks like you and Kells . . ." she murmured.

He rolled his eyes.  "What about a sweet little girl who looks just like you?"

She made a face and quickly shook her head.  "Another Raggedy Ann?  No, thank you . . ."

He grunted.  "I, for one, think that she'd be just as beautiful as her mama."

Jessa blushed, but didn't reply to that.  She still had no idea, just what he thought whenever he looked at her, but . . . but that was all right, wasn't it?  It was enough for her that he really, genuinely believed it, even if she wasn't entirely sure, why . . .