TRUST IN LOVE (Lovemark #2)

9. Farrow

9

Farrow

The princess had been dozing on Caramel for over an hour now. I could tell by the way she would gasp herself awake and jerk upright every time she started to lose her balance and began to topple from her saddle.

I knew I should’ve had mercy, called it a night long ago, and set up camp for us. But my quest was half-filled now; I just wanted to get us home so I could drag Sable out of the damn dungeon. Besides, we were still far too close to Donnelly’s castle for my comfort, so I pushed us onward.

And she hadn’t protested the grueling pace once.

Nicolette was quite the trooper, actually.

She hadn’t complained about the continuous, no doubt jarring ride, and I knew she was used to living in luxury and comfort—she’d packed half her damn castle and brought it with her, not to mention her hands had been as soft as silk when I’d helped her onto her horse. She couldn’t be used to such poor conditions. Yet she said nothing.

Curious that.

What stumped me even more was the chat we’d had earlier. She’d always said things that were outright quirky and unusual, but honestly, she hadn’t seemed as mentally deficient as I’d originally pegged her. The more we talked, the more it seemed as if she had all her faculties intact. I just—

I couldn’t figure her out.

There was definitely something about the Donnellean I couldn’t seem to piece together.

Like why she’d so willingly come with me—me, an enemy, a known warrior who’d invaded her land to s*******r her kind and reign over what was left.

I knew her agenda had to do with love. She’d outright claimed she fancied herself my soul mate. But for Christ’s sake, she was a f*****g princess. And beautiful. Aye, she was a bit odd, but for the kind of riches, beauty, youth, and even the compassion she possessed, oddness could be overlooked by anyone. Surely, she could find someone else in Donnelly to dub as her “true love.” Surely, she had suitors galore, vying for her hand, men battling for the mere chance to sit with her at dinner. She could have literally any man she wanted.

So, why had she chosen me? We’d barely even spoken the night we’d met. And I definitely don’t remember saying anything witty or passionate enough to warrant making anyone—let alone a princess—fall in love with me. I wasn’t ugly, but I wouldn’t say I was that mesmerizing in the looks department either. It made no sense.

I glanced over, trying to fathom it, when I realized the sun was beginning to rise because I could actually make out the features of her face as she rested against the steed’s neck.

God’s blood, but she was gorgeous.

Her silk wrap dress ensconced her like a lover’s caress, wrinkling in places that concealed just enough to drive a man crazy with curiosity, while exposing her enough in other areas to finish him off. Her arms were bare, as were her sun-bronzed shoulders with only two gold wrist guards to protect her slim, delicate appendages.

Her dark mass of hair curled and tangled down her back, over her arm, and across Caramel’s mane. It looked lush and soft, perfect for tunneling one’s fingers through and gripping while experiencing a torrent of pleasure.

Damn, she had hair made for temptation. Everything about her was, really. Her lips were pale pillows, lying dormant under a pert nose as if waiting to be plundered, while the lids of her closed eyes were stained a dark brown, making her lashes appear long and bounteous.

A sharp ache sliced through my gut as I studied her painted fingernails, and leather bit into my palm when the hold on my reins tightened. Those painted nails implied she was just a gentle, pretty thing, but all the while, I could very well imagine them savagely digging into my back and scoring their way along my spine while I tupped her hard and fast.

If she ever worked in a whorehouse, men would brawl for the chance to be with her every night. They had for my mother, and truth be told, Gaina hadn’t held half the demure yet enticing t****l Nicolette did. And men had come from miles around to visit her. She’d been so popular she’d gained the interest of the king, and once he’d met her, he’d demanded exclusive rights to her for the next two years until she’d gotten full with child. And only then had he—

Dammit all. The king! He was going to eat Nicolette alive.

What was I going to do with this girl? I couldn’t hand her over to him. Yet I couldn’t free her, either. I just had to think. I had to come up with a solid plan that—

“s**t!”

The slumped princess listed sideways off Caramel.

I fumbled in my haste to dismount Mint so I could catch her, my foot momentarily tangling in the stirrups and making me pitch face-first toward the sand. By the time I rightened myself, she was free-falling. All I had to do was open my arms, leap a step forward, and she plummeted right into me, jarring the teeth in my head with the force of her landing.

Cursing as I tasted blood, I grappled to keep hold of her while she woke with a start, instinctively struggling.

“Shh,” I assured, petting her silken hair. “It’s just me.”

“Farrow?” Immediately, she calmed and wrapped her warm arms around my neck to clutch me tightly as if I were some kind of savior, while in truth, I was her greatest threat.

“I’ve got you now, my lady,” I told her anyway, swallowing down my regret and guilt.

Shame and self-loathing coated my belly as she touched my hair, lovingly stroking her painted nails through the short strands. “Of course, you do,” she said. Drawing in a reviving breath, she hummed deep in her throat, pleased. “Mmm, you smell good.”

So did she. My nostrils flared, drawn to her with the same intensity. Even after a night of riding, she smelled fresh, like honey and flower petals. I wanted to lick the scent straight from her skin—warm skin that was pressed directly to my bare chest in the places where silk did not cover her.

I could take this woman, here and now.

She seemed willing. Very willing, if her quickened pants and heaving breasts had anything to say about it, along with her fingernails that were sneaking up into my hair, just at the base of my nape. All I needed to do was stretch her out on the soft bed of sand under us, roll up her skirts, and—

Fuck. What was I thinking?

Pointedly looking away, I cleared my throat and lowered her to the ground. “You were falling off your horse,” I tried to explain why I was holding her in the first place.

She sucked in a pained intake as her sandals sank into the sand. No doubt every muscle on her was sore from riding all night. But instead of complaining or even mentioning it, she merely smiled up at me as she wobbled a moment, steadying herself. Then she straightened and rolled her shoulders to work out the kinks. “Thank you. For saving me.”

I grunted in reply and began to take a step back, pulling my hands from her waist as I went, but she reached out for me, placing a warm palm against my cheek.

“Farrow?”

Dooming myself, I glanced at her face. Her eyes were so large and guileless that it upset my already swirling stomach with even more remorse.

Her brow knit with worry. “I’m so confused. I don’t understand this feeling you’re experiencing.”

“Feeling?” I asked distractedly, wondering what her kiss would feel like in between berating myself for even looking at her mouth.

“Yes.” She tipped her face to the side, trying to figure me out. “You want me. That’s apparent.” Her lips tightened into a smile as she said that, only to fall again when she added, “Yet that’s clouded by something dark and tight. And ugly. Hatred maybe, but not directed outward. It’s toward yourself,” she realized a moment later. “But why does the idea of being close to me make you upset? You’re so conflicted; it’s as if you’re…” Her lips parted when she realized something. “My God, you’re guilty. But why ever would you feel guilty with me?”

I sniffed bitterly. “Yes, why ever indeed?” I couldn’t help but mutter. “Let’s see, princess, shall I count the ways? I just took you from the only home you’ve ever known, marched you through a desert all night without pausing for respite, and all with the sole intent to hustle you into a kingdom where they’d just as soon as kill you than look at you if they ever caught sight of that tattoo on your face, much less learned who you really are. But truly, it’s such a puzzle why I’d experience even a smidgeon of regret.”

Instead of growing concerned right along with me, however, the lunatic princess relaxed her expression in a relieved smile. “You worry for me. That’s so sweet.” She began to stroke my jaw, but I pulled away.

Did she not even have an ounce of self-preservation in her at all? I was dangerous. Maybe the most dangerous foe she’d ever encountered.

Yet she seemed more intent on soothing my guilt than running away, like she bloody well should.

“All we have to do is trust in our love,” she tried to explain, “And everything will be fine. I know it.”

Jesus, this girl was way too innocent and sheltered to even step outside her bedchamber unescorted. How the hell had she landed in my care? I was going to lead her straight to her destruction.

“There.” She pointed at me as if she’d just caught me in the act of treason. “You’re feeling it again. It’s such a sudden, bright flare of shame too. I don’t understand it at all.”

I frowned at her, abruptly realizing she really did know what I was experiencing. Hedging a step back, I sent her a mistrustful squint. “I thought you said you didn’t possess any magic?”

She shook her head. “I don’t.”

Still leery, I reversed another step. “Then how are you reading my mind?” And what else was she seeing in me?

Nicolette laughed. “I can’t read your mind, silly. I’m reading your emotions.”

Like there was a difference? I c****d up one eyebrow. “Without magic?”

“It’s because of the mark,” she explained. “Which, okay…” She flushed on a guilty cringe. “I guess that took magic to get, but that was before I went strictly anti-magic. Anyway, whenever you get a mark, you become an empath, but only towards your true love. I can’t read anyone else’s emotions. Just yours.”

I paused, truly lost now. “Wait. What?” Why did she keep talking about some mark?

She tilted her head as if she were as baffled as I was. “Did you not know that about the mark?”

“What mark?” I cried.

“This mark,” she said slowly, pointing at her temple and watching me curiously as if trying to figure me out. “What exactly do you know about love marks?”

I blinked. “You mean the High Cliff tattoo you have? I know nothing about their meaning. I always figured they held some sort of religious significance for High Clifters. And then I assumed Donnelleans got them to honor your alliance.” Then I crinkled my brow. “Are you saying they’re really just some romantic symbol?”

“Symbol? I…” Her mouth fell open as she lost her words. “But…” She started again, only to shake her head. “No. You have to know about them. Otherwise…” Visually baffled, she glanced around the sky, only to return her gaze to me. “You honestly have no idea what the marks mean at all?”

“I know they’re a High Cliff thing,” I repeated. “It’s how to spot their kind in a crowd. Other than that…” I sniffed. “I never really cared.”

“But…” She set a hand to her temple. “Oh Lord.” She turned in a circle as if seeking answers from the terrain, but the only thing she found around us was sand.

And more sand.

Not a helpful aid.

Focusing her attention back on me, she gaped a moment before saying, “The love mark is a special tattoo, given only by a qualified person of magic who’s passed a purity test. A priestess, in fact. They use a very specific type of ink, and it has to be this exact symbol in this exact size, given on this exact temple, otherwise it doesn’t work.”

“And when it does work?” I hedged slowly, already fearing her response.

“Then the mark bearer is able to recognize their true love at first sight. Even before then, actually. I felt your presence the moment you were brought into the castle as a prisoner at the end of the war.”

Cold unease spread over me like icicles. Unable to accept her words, I said, “That—But that’s not possible.”

She released a breath of exasperation. “What’s not possible is that you didn’t already know about all this. Why in God’s name did you think I’d just abandoned the only home I’ve ever known to come with you? How did you suppose I knew you were outside, waiting on me to begin with? Holy hell, why would I have even saved you that first night—a man I only knew had come into my homeland to kill everyone I hold dear—unless I had the presence of this damn tattoo right here, assuring me you were my destiny? A person would have to be completely daft and soft in the head or desperate beyond all reasoning for a husband in order to do all that.”

“I…” She had a point. A lot of good points, actually. Why hadn’t I questioned things more than I had?

When she merely stared at me, waiting for an explanation, I flushed. “I guess, um, I figured you were just that simple-minded. I don’t know.” I swallowed, embarrassed about my own ignorant acceptance of it all. “Besides.” I frowned at her. “How can you be so sure that I’m—that we’re—” I waved a finger between the two of us because, Lord, I couldn’t even form the words. The entire idea was madness.

She arched a pointed eyebrow. “That we’re true loves?”

I nodded and cleared my throat, uncomfortable about the mere suggestion. Just thinking about her belonging to me—completely—made my body flush with instant desire. A very unwelcome desire.

Because we didn’t have time for desire.

“Well, aside from the fact that I can sense it within every molecule of my being, I could feel you the moment you entered Donnelly.” She flushed as if embarrassed before admitting, “Granted, it took me a moment to figure out what I was experiencing, but once I realized it was you, I knew exactly where to find you last night, did I not? And I can tell you every emotion you’re feeling right now.”

I shook my head, not convinced. “That could all be pure, dumb luck or a misaligned digestive tract. It doesn’t prove—”

Her irritation was obvious. She scowled and slammed a hand to her hip. “If you had the mark, you’d understand what I’m talking about. You’d experience this awareness just as strongly as I do.”

With a snort, I said, “No way in hell will I ever get a High Cliff tattoo.”

Her eyebrows lifted over my judgmental tone. “Fine,” she said, notching up her chin loftily. “If you need proof you can see with your own ignorant, unmarked eyes, I’ll give you proof.” She pointed toward her temple. “Tap it five times. Only my soul mate and I can make the mark respond.”

I eased a step back, eyeing the tattoo untrustingly. “Respond how?”

A smile lit her face, transforming her irritated features into one of pure beauty and reassurance. “Don’t worry, my love. It won’t hurt you.”

Great. Now I’d look like a coward if I didn’t f*****g touch her tattoo. I raised my hand, only to hesitate. I had no idea what to expect here. But the princess didn’t seem concerned, so I hovered my hand over her temple for a moment before bringing the tip of my index finger into contact with her mark.

She gasped in surprised delight, and I had to bite my tongue to keep from exposing my own response. But a hot, edgy thrill of anticipation darted through me, causing me to hold my breath as I touched her skin four more times, slowly so I could draw out the delicious sensation.

As soon as I finished the fifth tap, her tattoo crackled and ignited, shooting red sparks a couple inches from her temple.

“Holy shit.” I jerked my hand back and skittered away from her.

Nicolette laughed, charmed by my reaction.

I could only blink. “It…” I pointed toward the mark. “You…”

She nodded. “Yes. You are my match.”

Unable to control the punch of feeling I experienced, I drew in a shocked breath, letting the lure of that possibility consume me. But true love? A perfect match? Soul mates? I couldn’t say the idea was bad. Having one person belong to me completely—as mine and mine alone—someone who would never leave me, always love me, be my family, my home…

An ache so frantic and full of wild craving spread like wildfire through my chest before I realized how stupid such a desire was. Because who was I kidding? I was the son of a monster and a courtesan. I didn’t get true love or happy endings, especially with beautiful, exotic princesses from distant lands.

With a jolt of awareness, I returned to reality. “You could just be putting one over on me,” I told her, unable to trust what I’d just seen. “Maybe anyone who touches your tattoo can make it do that.”

She tipped her head to the side. “But what goal would lying to you bring me? The only thing I have to gain here is you, and I don’t know you. I don’t know if you’re a good person or bad. I have no idea if you’re wealthy or poor or what kind of family you come from or morals you have. I just left a life of complete luxury where everyone loved me and listened to my thoughts and ideas and respected me. I was happy there, but I gave it all up in an instant to be with you. Why would I do that unless I was telling you the truth and knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that you are my future?”

“I…” I gulped, feeling a fear I’d never felt before. “I don’t know,” I admitted quietly. But I could not accept this. If I accepted it, it would mean this girl was mine. My future. My family. My responsibility. It would be my duty to protect her and not bring her to my father.

So I couldn’t accept what she was saying.

She read my expression—or maybe she really could feel my swirling emotions—because she sighed. “Okay, fine.” She turned toward her horse to dig into one of her satchels. “You’ve at least heard of true love’s kiss, have you not?”

I nodded, even as I said, “Of course, but that’s just a myth.”

“Is it?” Her voice was soft and amused as she rotated back to me, holding up a small blade.

“Wha—” I sprang forward to stop her, for surely, she meant to stab me and try to escape.

But she surprised the s**t out of me when she said, “Heal me,” just before she sliced open the back of her own forearm.

“What the hell?” I exploded, snatching the dagger from her hand. “Are you insane?”

“Oh God,” she choked out, slapping her hand over the cut and sucking in a breath. “That stings. That really burns. I didn’t realize it’d hurt so badly.”

“Of course, it bloody hurts,” I yelled, tucking the knife into my belt and grabbing her arm to see for myself just how deeply she’d gone. “You just filleted your arm open. What did you think it was going to feel like?”

“I didn’t. I was too busy knowing you could heal—what’re you doing?”

“Let me see it.” I tugged her closer, even as I dug my free hand into my own satchel of supplies. “I have some healer’s rags we can use to bind it and stop the bleeding.”

“We don’t need to bind it,” she argued, hissing when I gently lifted her hand from the wound, exposing it to open air. “You just need to kiss me and make it go away already.”

“A kiss isn’t going to heal something this deep, princess.” Jesus, she’d made a tidy little mess of herself. If we didn’t get this cleaned soon, it could become infected.

“Of course, you can fix it. I’ve seen true love’s kiss bring people back from the dead.”

I rolled my eyes. “In some farce of a theatrical performance, no doubt.”

“In real life!” A growl rose from her throat as I pressed my own fingers against the cut to stop the flow of blood. “Lord have mercy, are you always so stubborn and bullheaded?”

“I’m telling you,” I started logically. “A kiss is not—”

She was done arguing with me, though. Reaching out, she grabbed the leather strap I had situated diagonally across my chest, the one that held my war staff in its sheath on my back. Clutching it hard, she used the strap to jerk me forward.

Unprepared for the move, I went stumbling into her until my mouth brutally slammed against hers. Rasping out a sound of surprise, I grabbed her shoulder to steady us both, fully prepared to pull directly away. But she opened her mouth, and her tongue sought entrance.

And just like that, I fell victim to her allure. I let her in and plundered right back, tasting honey and heaven.

Before I realized what I was doing, I gripped a handful of her luscious long hair in one hand and backed her toward the wall. Except the wall was actually Caramel, and once Nicolette backed into the horse, it whinnied in protest and shifted away, which unsettled our balance and caused us to break the kiss in order to catch each other.

Meanwhile, the cut still under the protection of my thumb moved as if stretching or—something. I’m not sure what it did, but it startled the hell out of me.

“What the…?” I lifted my fingers and blinked, only to find the cut gone. “But that’s not—”

It just wasn’t possible.

I wiped the blood from her flesh, thinking to reveal the wound somewhere, except it was truly and honestly gone. Not even a scar remained. I looked up at Nicolette, trying to make sense of what was happening here, because none of this was logical.

All she could do was smile at me and whisper, “True love’s kiss.”