Married by Treachery Page 8

  His skin was so warm, so surprisingly gentle, even as his calluses scratched her skin. It took everything inside of her not to lean into it, because it also felt familiar when it should not have. But her soul clung defiantly to that familiarity, finding comfort in it, just as Dream Raquel had done.

  Jake’s gaze dropped to her mouth.

  Saints, was he going to kiss her?

  More importantly, was she going to let him?

  “You’re…going to save your kingdom by kissing me?” Raquel managed in that slip of space between them.

  His gaze was liquid fire. “Do you want me to kiss you, Raquel?”

  Her name, spoken upon his lips, brushed over her like silk, and her heart pounded. “No,” she scoffed, but not even her voice believed her.

  The edge of Jake’s mouth curled. “No…?” He dragged his thumb over her bottom lip. “Truly? Your eyes say otherwise.”

  Raquel meant to respond, but she was paralyzed, and her heart galloped in her chest. What was happening? He was Dream Jake and he was this Jake, both versions of him flickering back and forth and never settling. He was present and future and past all at once, and Raquel couldn’t break them apart. She couldn’t break her self apart, this strange collision of dreams and reality, this merger of sacred planes.

  No, it was not until Jake tipped her chin up and began to lean forward that she looked straight into his eyes, prompted by forces she could not quite understand, and said, “I do not want your kiss without your heart, my prince.”

  Jake stopped.

  He leaned back a fraction, and his gaze met hers. His lips parted, but then his brow furrowed with confusion.

  The moment stretched, and his hand was still upon her face. Raquel sat quietly, letting the silence breathe. Wondering if maybe—just maybe—it might give Dream Jake the opportunity to rise to the surface.

  But when Jake’s derisive smile appeared, she knew she had hoped in vain.

  “I cannot give you that which I do not possess,” he said.

  “Then you cannot take what you have not purchased in full.”

  His eyes burned with something she could not identify. “My bride drives a hard bargain.” A dangerous edge touched his voice.

  “Bargains must be made with those whose honor can’t recommend them.”

  His eyes narrowed. “I saved your life.”

  “For my sake or yours?”

  Jake looked hard at her.

  And then he dropped his hand.

  He stood abruptly. “It is late, and I should let you rest.”

  Raquel looked up at him. She felt so unbalanced by the sudden shift in this interchange, and the pain of dashed hope, that she couldn’t find words to respond.

  He started for the door.

  “What happens next?” she asked, finally finding her voice.

  He stopped with his hand on the door, but he did not turn. His shoulders were tight. “We leave at dawn.”

  “For where?”

  A breath. “I need to fix my coat, and then I’ll introduce you to my father.” He left and closed the door behind him.

  Jake stopped in the hallway, just outside the door, and he dragged a hand over his face.

  “Is everything all right, Your Grace?” Havarr asked.

  Fates, he hadn’t even realized Havarr was standing there, and it looked like she’d brought a pail of fresh water.

  “Yes, everything is… fine,” Jake said. “Just make sure she doesn’t run away again.”

  Havarr frowned at the door. “Is she awake?”

  Jake nodded and strode past a curious Havarr and shoved through the door opposite his own. “Tell the others to prepare for departure at first light,” he said, then slammed the door shut, irritated that he still felt pulled to the girl.

  Irritated that he felt anything at all.

  10

  Jake did not sleep well. In fact, he didn’t sleep at all. He wasn’t one for dreams. He couldn’t remember ever having one, but last night he had dreamed about her. The mortal girl.

  Raquel.

  Kissing her.

  Making love to her.

  Fates, his heart pounded just thinking about it, and he sagged back in his bed to relive that…intoxicating moment, but then the rest of his dream flashed before his eyes. The two of them had stood at a window, and he’d been behind her, his arms wrapped around her full and rounded belly while his chin rested upon her head. Strangely, this simple gesture struck him harder, struck him deeper than anything they’d done in that bed. She’d felt like an extension of his own person, more precious to him than any lustful craving or desire.

  More precious to him than his own flesh.

  He’d held on to her while they’d observed two children playing in the yard beyond, picking flowers.

  A girl and a boy. The girl had Raquel’s beautiful thick golden hair, while the boy had his dark locks, and in the dream, Jake had been overwhelmed. He’d been flooded with a joy that’d warmed him from the inside out, as though the sun itself had been unleashed inside of his chest.

  It was preposterous. A pathetic mortal dream full of futile and fading ambitions.

  In fact, it was probably his current ambition of earning her affections that had inspired such nonsense.

  And his…unspent desires from last night.

  Jake pressed a hand to his bare chest, trying to massage the sudden ache out of it. He couldn’t understand why it was hurting. He hadn’t injured it, and yet there was an undeniable pain beneath his left breast, where a heart should be. It seemed to him that all of those emotions he’d experienced in his dream had been ripped out of his chest when he’d awoken, leaving gaping holes behind.

  Which was utterly absurd. He didn’t want children. He didn’t even like children.

  An image of that little girl with Raquel’s tumbling golden hair flashed in his mind, that smile like the summer sun. She’d had his eyes, he remembered. Sometimes dark, sometimes gold, depending on his mood, and right then they’d been bright as autumn leaves. Effervescent. In his mind, he saw her run to him and leap into his arms, call him Father.

  Say she loved him.

  Those words. Love. Such a ludicrous notion. A weakness of mortals.

  He saw his dream self cling to the child, tuck her under his chin, and hold her close. This precious treasure, so vibrant, just like her mother, and Jake felt suddenly…envious.

  He dragged a hand over his face, as if he might wipe away these new and strange and very unwanted sensations, and then slid out of bed. Fates, what was wrong with him? He was supposed to be claiming her affections, not the other way around. Perhaps he’d had too much wine. His mother was always accusing him of drinking too much.

  Remembering his mother sobered him at once. Edom was most certainly on the move by now, but Jake could not return to the palace before his coat was repaired.

  Jake dressed quickly, trying to shake his dream. Trying to ignore the persistent ache in his chest. He looked for his coat, but then suddenly recalled he’d left it in his bedchamber, where his belov—where the mortal slept.

  Jake threw open his door and crossed the hall. He didn’t bother knocking this time. He waved his hand then pushed through the door.

  Where he stopped in his tracks.

  The room was empty, her corset and heavy skirts gone. Obviously she’d dressed, though he did wonder how she’d managed the corset since he’d cut the ties.

  Jake looked over the bed, which Raquel had taken the time to make. She’d even draped the nightdress over it, refolded the extra blankets, and neatly stacked them at the end of the bed. In fact, it almost looked as though no one had slept here, except for the presence of his coat, which she’d also folded and set upon his chair.

  Jake laughed despite himself. Only Raquel would take the time to tidy up her prison before escaping it.

  However.

  Jake crossed to the window, where the draperies had been opened and the latch had been unlocked, and he peered outside. Dawn brighte
ned the mist, and Jake spotted a couple of figures walking below. Neither of them was Raquel. His gaze cut to the gate.

  Which hung open a crack.

  Jake cursed, then sprinted from the room, bolted down the stairs, and pushed into the cold morning air. Someone called his name, but Jake didn’t turn, didn’t stop.

  Certainly, she wasn’t that foolish. He’d thought she’d learned her lesson.

  Someone called his name again as he slipped through the gate and into the mist, where he knelt and touched the soil, searching for any signs of—

  “What in the hell, Jake?” Rian startled him.

  “She’s gone,” Jake said, standing so suddenly Rian had to step back to avoid being knocked over.

  “What are you talking about?” Rian asked.

  Jake grabbed Rian’s shoulders and held them firmly. “She escaped through my window.”

  Rian’s expression opened with understanding, and then his attention cut to the swirling mist. “I haven’t seen anyone near the gate.”

  “Well, it’s open,” Jake snarled. “Who the hell was on watch?”

  Rian blinked and looked back at him. “Ah… that’d be Norro, but—”

  Jake released Rian, ran back through the gate, and sprinted for the stables.

  Where he skidded to halt.

  Raquel was there, her hair loosely pulled back in a plait, and she was dressed in her skirts and that blasted corset she’d mended with an assortment of ribbon and string. Resourceful little thing. She carried a bucket full of water, which she poured into a trough, then set the bucket down and pushed the hair back from her flushed face.

  Jake’s chest ached anew.

  “Is that better?” she asked Vizzi, Jake’s stallion. The horse’s ears flickered as he snorted and nudged into her. “I know,” she cooed, patting his nose. “I know. Now, let me see if I can find something for you to eat around here…”

  Jake ducked back, secretly peering at her around the last stable. Rian was running up to him, but Jake raised a hand, and Rian stopped, curious but obedient. Jake looked back to see Raquel searching the stables while her skirts dragged upon the dirt, though she didn’t seem to notice or care.

  That ache in Jake’s chest intensified.

  Raquel spotted a bucket of rotten root vegetables, grabbed an armful, and dumped it before Vizzi.

  Vizzi stomped a foot.

  “It’s not my favorite either,” Raquel continued, “but it’s better than nothing, and you need to eat.”

  Vizzi snorted at the bucket.

  “Well, you can take that up with your master.”

  Vizzi whinnied.

  “Yes, I know he’s a pompous ass.”

  Jake cleared his throat.

  Raquel looked up, startled, and that gorgeous color splotched her cheeks.

  “Now, is that any way to speak of your betrothed?” Jake drawled.

  Raquel snatched the bucket off the ground with a huff. “If my betrothed expects to be praised, he might consider behaving in a way that’s praiseworthy.”

  “Oh, you mean like valiantly running after his beloved and saving her from being ripped to shreds by Depraved?”

  Raquel strode to the water tap, set the bucket upon the ground, and pumped water into the empty pail. “Don’t pretend that had”—pump— “anything to do with valor. You only saved my life because you”—another pump— “need me to stop whatever is plaguing your land. Not out of the goodness of”—yet another pump—“a heart you don’t have.”

  Jake grinned. He couldn’t seem to help it when he was around her. “That’s quite enough water, my beloved. You’re going to drown poor old Vizzi.”

  Raquel stopped pumping and looked at Jake. Her hands still gripped the lever, her cheeks were pink with exertion, and her blue eyes shone as clear and brilliant as the sky. Tendrils of hair curled about her face, dirt stained her hem and hands, and Jake had never seen a sight more lovely.

  The pain in his chest nearly doubled him over.

  “And you’re going to kill him if you keep running him like this,” she snapped. “For one who prizes living above all else, I would expect you’d take better care of your possessions.”

  Jake regarded her. “You’re right. Next time, I’ll board up your windows.”

  Raquel’s nostrils flared, and she went back to pumping water. Jake flitted two fingers, and the lever started pumping on its own accord.

  Raquel fought with the lever, but to no avail. “Would you stop?”

  “I’m trying to help you, beloved.”

  “I don’t…want your…help. And stop calling me beloved!” Raquel finally let go, flustered and arms akimbo as the lever pumped autonomously, slowly filling the bucket. “Let me do this!”

  “Why, when magik can do the work?”

  “But I want to do the work!”

  Jake scoffed. “No one wants to work.”

  Raquel stomped toward him and stood right in his personal space, making him feel a sudden onslaught of very powerful things he could not identify. “That’s the problem with you. With all your kind. So puffed-up on your magik. As if it makes you so much better and wiser than the rest of us simple mortals and our pathetic ideals. And look what all your magik has gotten you: a rotten land full of monsters and bleeding trees. So forgive me if I trust the work of my own hands over all the magik of a people who couldn’t even use it to save their own kingdom.”

  Jake leaned in close, their faces mere inches apart. Her freckles were darker when she was angry. Or maybe they just stood out more against her angry flush, and he felt the sudden urge to continue what he’d started last night, though he was very aware of Rian—and now Banon—watching them. “Careful, my beloved.” Truthfully, he didn’t know if the warning was for her or for himself.

  “Or what?” Her blue eyes stormed with conviction.

  Jake couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a storm. A real, actual storm with brooding clouds and booming thunder, but he thought that if a storm could ever manifest itself as a person, it would come as Raquel. It would defy nature with its fury, inspire awe with its brilliance.

  Destroy everything he had so carefully constructed.

  His gaze dropped to her dainty nose, particularly the smattering of freckles along the narrow bridge. They reminded him of the stars in the night sky and all the constellations that he had not seen in ages. And then his gaze slid further still, to her mouth and the pucker of those chapped and rosy lips that he had meant to kiss last night.

  It was the mission—yes, that was what it was. He was playing a part so well and so thoroughly that his subconscious kept him resolutely in character. But then his dream flashed again. Her rounded belly, the feel of her in his arms.

  The feel of her in his heart.

  Jake’s chest ached sudden and sharply, his breath came in frantic bursts, and then for reasons Jake could not quite comprehend—not yet—he turned on his heel and stormed away from her. Right past a startled Rian and Banon.

  “Where are you going?” Rian called after him, clearly confused.

  “To find Sienne.”

  11

  Raquel watched Jake go. She watched him storm away from her, watched his kith stare after him. Watched him turn out of sight.

  And then Rian and Banon turned toward her.

  Raquel felt a sudden flare of embarrassment, as if she’d been caught doing something she ought naught, though she’d done nothing untoward.

  Not on the outside, at least.

  But they were still looking at her, so she pressed down her skirts, and—not knowing what else to do—said, “I can help with the horses.”

  Rian looked to Banon, whose gaze flickered in the direction Jake had gone.

  “I am quite familiar with them,” she continued. “I grew up around them, and I’ve a lot of experience fitting saddles.” She didn’t really understand why she felt so adamant about this, but there were all sorts of strange emotions churning inside of her, and hard work was always the best rem
edy for controlling unwieldy feelings.

  And she needed to get these under control before they shredded her resolve to pieces.

  At last, Banon nodded once, sharply, and said, “I’ll handle Vizzi. Jake’s very particular about his saddle.”

  “Really? Does he realize the bit’s too tight and damaging poor Vizzi’s molars?”

  Banon’s brows shot up, he and Rian exchanged a long look, then Banon waved a hand at Vizzi. “He’s all yours. But know that if Jake complains, I’m not taking the blame.”

  “If he doesn’t, I hope you don’t take the credit, either,” Raquel said.

  Banon looked at her as if he couldn’t decide whether to be impressed or offended. Rian laughed, then cuffed Banon on the shoulder and said, “Come on. We’ve only got ten minutes.”

  Banon and Rian moved to other stalls, and Raquel turned back to Vizzi, who regarded her mildly.

  “Now. Where were we…” she murmured to herself. Then, to Vizzi, she said, “You eat. I’m going to make some adjustments to your saddle.”

  She slipped around Vizzi, patting his side as she did, to where the saddle lay upon a narrow bench. It was a fine saddle; she hadn’t had a moment to appreciate the craftsmanship before while riding in the arms of her brutish captor.

  The thought of sharing a saddle with Jake, as himself and not as the hairy Bear Prince, sent a shiver down her legs.

  Saints above, this would not do!

  Raquel ground her teeth and turned her focus back to the saddle, to the neat line of stitches and oiled leather. “If only your master took half as good care with you as he does his saddle…” She’d said it quietly, but not quietly enough. Rian cleared his throat from a few stalls over. Raquel bent her head toward Vizzi’s ear and whispered, “Well, it’s true.”