TRUST IN LOVE (Lovemark #2)

10. Nicolette

10

Nicolette

I think Farrow was in shock. Or more likely complete denial.

After giving him irrefutable proof that he was indeed my mate, he backed away, gave his head a quick shake as if to clear it, and then said, “We need to set up camp before the sun’s full in the sky.”

I let him use his evasion tactic because we had the rest of our lives for him to get used to the idea, and honestly, I was a little worried about him. A dull roar of emotions wafted off him in unrelenting waves. They were jumbled together so tightly I couldn’t distinguish one from the other; I wasn’t even sure if they were mainly positive or negative feelings.

I guess he needed a bit of time to process.

But his silence bothered me to no end.

“Want to know something ironic?” I asked as he pulled a large spool of leather from his pack and then bent to spread it on the ground. Realizing the covering was actually the roof of our tent for the day, I moved to the opposite end as him to help straighten it. When he didn’t answer my question, I shrugged. “I got my mark not even a fortnight before your army invaded Donnelly.”

When he extracted some bamboo poles from his supplies next, I knelt when he did and mimicked his actions, assisting him as he elevated the bamboo walls into the air and levered them into place so the leather roof would provide a nice area of shade underneath.

“If I’d waited even a moon cycle to get my tattoo, I never would’ve been drawn away from my bedchamber that night and down to where you were being held captive. I never would’ve helped free you. And you…” I gulped as I glanced at him. “You would’ve died with the rest of the prisoners my brother executed.”

He grunted, saying nothing, just leading the horses under the tent so they’d be out of the sun as well.

“My brother Caulder was so upset when he found out I’d gotten the mark. I thought he was going to banish me from the castle altogether. Then again, he was never as easy going as Brentley is with me.”

Farrow paused to send me an odd glance as if he wanted to inquire about something I said, but then he lifted his brows briefly and went back to work, ignoring me as he stripped the horses of their loads and stroked their backs to massage their sore, strained muscles.

The action looked sensuous and relaxing; my mouth went dry as I watched. I had sore, strained muscles if he wanted to massage something.

But I had a suspicion the suggestion would only freak him out more, so I cleared my throat and kept talking.

“I knew Caulder wouldn’t be happy even as I snuck out to get the mark, but I didn’t care. I was determined to find my true love. I would’ve suffered through any kind of reprimand. I guess it’s a good thing I took the risk, too.” I watched him as I added, “It’s the only reason you’re alive today. Kind of makes you think destiny had a hand in my actions, doesn’t it?”

He glanced at me, his gaze brooding. “You should get some rest. We’ll sleep during the day to stay out of the sun and then ride at night.” And he went back to preparing the camp, flipping out bedrolls on either side of the horses and placing them on the sand under the shade.

Hmm, using animals to separate us. I guess this meant he didn’t want to sleep beside me.

I shook my head in awe. “You still don’t believe, do you?”

Stubborn was an understatement when describing Farrow, I realized. No proof was going to convince him of anything until he was ready to accept it.

He didn’t speak, merely pulled a leather flagon with a sturdy metal bottom from his supplies, uncapped it and took a healthy drink. When he was done, he held it out to me. “Thirsty?”

“God, yes.” I was parched beyond thirst. “Thank you.” Taking the flask, I gulped greedily, only to force myself to stop and send him a guilty wince after I took more than I felt was my fair share. “Sorry. That was too much, wasn’t it?” I went to hand it back, as the flagon wasn’t all that big; I didn’t want to hog all our water supply, especially since—

Oh hell.

I glanced around the desert. Who knew when we’d cross another water source? Was this all we had to get us by for the next handful of days?

Farrow waved me on, however, refusing to take the flagon back and encouraging me to keep drinking. “Take all you need,” he said.

So, I did, unable to help myself.

“The canteen’s infused with magic,” he explained as I chugged. “It holds an endless supply of water.”

Wait. Had he just said magic?

I jerked the pouch from my lips and spat out what water I had left in my mouth. “This is magic water?” I accused, wiping away as much as I could with the back of my hand and then spitting out even more.

But seriously, how dare he feed me something magical without my knowledge?

My reaction merely caused him to laugh. “The water’s just water,” he assured, taking the flagon from me and pouring it out into a tub he’d fashioned on the ground so the horses could have a drink. “Only the container’s been enchanted.” He paused and looked at the flagon. When a feeling of extreme despair washed over him, he quietly admitted, “This flask was the last thing my mother ever gave me.”

His grief filled me until I had tears in my own eyes. “I’m so sorry,” I said, feeling his loss as if it were my own. He still mourned for her greatly. I knew exactly how it felt to lose a parent, yet I think he missed his more than I ever had my own.

Clearing his throat, he removed a cup from his supply satchel and poured a liberal amount of water into it before holding it my way. “Here,” he offered. “This way you won’t have to touch anything that’s been charmed.”

His consideration was so thoughtful, my heart skipped a beat. What a sweet, sweet man. If I hadn’t already known he was my true love, I think I would’ve gotten an inkling right then.

“Thank you.”

He turned away with a grunt.

And he seemed to withdraw into himself even more.

If he’d seemed distant and quiet with me last night while helping me load my things onto the horses, he was doubly so now. He ignored me completely as he bent and dug through his satchels, searching for something.

I focused on his back as he worked, watching the stretch and pull of muscle with each shift of his shoulders. Such powerful shoulders. So thick and massive. The sun-bronzed color gave his skin a nice, healthy, masculine glow.

I licked my lips as I wandered closer. But the nearer I drew, the more detail I could take in, like the whitened marks that crisscrossed over the backs of his ribs.

My lips parted on a silent gasp when I realized what I was seeing. He’d been whipped. A lot. And running up the back of his neck, a symbol of two twisted vines facing each other—Far Shore’s crest—had been branded into the skin with what could only be a hot iron.

Boiling anger poured through me; I wanted to hurt whoever had hurt him. But when I reached out, my touch was soft and gentle. I wished my lips could heal this. But a wound had to be fresh for it to mend under true love’s kiss.

I placed the tips of my fingers against the old scars, anyway, needing to share them with him in any way I could.

He jolted at the contact and sprang to his feet, spinning around so abruptly that I lurched back, snapping my hand to myself in guilt.

His gaze glistened with reprimand, but he said nothing, just stared at me until his breath settled. Then he held out a bundle of cloth. “To pillow your head while you rest.”

“Oh! Um, thank you.” I took the lump and returned the cup. “And here. You can have this back now.”

Our fingers grazed when we exchanged items, but he didn’t seem to notice, or maybe he chose to ignore the sensations it wrought. It certainly made my heart beat hard in my chest, unable to ignore even the slightest contact. I kept sending him glances as I sat on my bedroll and braided my hair for sleep, preparing for a day of rest. But he kept his attention avidly away, punching at his own bale of clothes that was doubling as a pillow and lying down on his side, facing away from me.

He must’ve been having a very hard time accepting that we were mates.

I hoped he didn’t try to reject it; he’d find out he had an equally stubborn and relentless partner, if he did. I wouldn’t easily give up on him.

But still, my mind worried through it all, anyway, wondering what was going on in his head. He was still a muddle of emotions; it was impossible for me to put a bead on him and figure out what he was thinking.

I flopped onto my back and studied a small hole in the tent covering where daylight began to stream through. Sleep eluded me, causing my brain to stir. I was so intent on trying to discover if he was pleased or upset or even disappointed by learning of our match that it took me far too long to question one major point. But suddenly, there it was: the most important question of all.

I bit my bottom lip. “Farrow?” I said uneasily.

“Hmm?”

He was still awake. Thank God.

“If you don’t believe me,” I started, “about the love mark, and you weren’t even aware of its meaning until I told you the significance this morning, then you didn’t come to take me away to your home and marry you. Did you?”

He was so silent my heart began to beat hard.

Because oh…

No.

This couldn’t be good.

“Why did you come to Donnelly, Farrow?”

A flare of regret wafted off him.

Before he could say anything, though, I said, “You’re feeling guilty again. And afraid.” I frowned. “Yet unbearably sad and—”

“Could you please stop doing that,” he cut in, nearly barking the command. “I’m not a fan of people being in my head.”

“I’m not in your head,” I countered. “If I were in your head, I’d already have the answer I so desperately need right now. And besides, it’s not my fault you’re practically screaming your feelings at me. They’re so loud that it’s all I can hear. Seriously, I had no idea you’d be so emotional.”

“I’m not—” he started, only to stop suddenly. Then he sighed, long and loud.

This journey was wearing on him. And I still had no idea what it was even about.

“You really need to answer my question,” I said with the utmost of seriousness now. “Why did you come for me? And why wait five years? The last time you stole into my land, it was because of a war, to attack my people.”

And Donnelly would very eagerly enter into another fray with Far Shore if they thought Far Shore had taken their princess without her cooperation.

More guilt layered the air around Farrow. I pressed a hand to my mouth, trying not to jump to conclusions, but this was all beginning to look really bad.

Farrow finally said, “Well, that’s not what this time’s about.”

I shook my head, not sure what to believe—the word of my soul mate or my irritatingly persistent instincts.

I had no idea if he was telling the truth. Lying wasn’t an emotion I could read from him, but guilt was, and he was practically drowning in that. Except he’d felt guilty for a while now, so I couldn’t ascertain whether this case came because he was lying or for another reason. I didn’t know what to believe. All I knew was that he was my perfect match in life—the mark said so—so I kept trusting that.

“Then what is this about?” I asked softly.

“My mother,” he finally said. “She…” He took his time, clearing his throat, then finished with, “She’s very sick.”

“Sick?” I paused, squinting, then bluntly blurted, “But I thought your mother was dead.”

“What?”

His surprised voice made me frown up at the hole in the ceiling of the tent.

“You said she had died.”

“I did? When?”

“When you said the flagon was the last thing she’d given you, I thought…” Huh, I guess he hadn’t exactly said his mother had died. I’d just assumed as much.

“I—it—the flagon was the last thing she gave me before she fell ill,” he corrected.

“Oh.” Whoops.

His grief returned. His mother must be very sick, like on her deathbed, because he was already mourning her.

“I’m so sorry.” My heartstrings twisted for him. “What’s her malady?”

“A wasting disease,” he said. His voice was raspy with pain. “I’ve gone to healers and mages across the kingdom, but the only hope I’ve found so far is from a potion brewer. He thinks he can create a tonic, but some of the ingredients are tricky to procure. One element I need is…”

“Is what?” I encouraged.

“The—the teardrop of a princess.”

“A teardrop?”

“Yes. And you’re the only princess I’ve ever met.”

I sat up and peered across the resting horses to gape at him. “You’re serious, aren’t you? You need the teardrop of a princess?”

Oh Lord, the man was still shirtless.

I’d forgotten about that.

Though I don’t know why it surprised me. I’d never seen him with a covered chest. Why would I expect him to put on a tunic for sleep?

He had such a nice chest too. I wondered if none of his people wore tops or if only their warriors went without. In either case, I definitely approved. He had a beautiful form; his pectorals and abs were defined with perfectly sloped muscles.

“A fresh teardrop,” he added, glancing over at me from where he lounged, one arm resting behind his head like a pillow. “I couldn’t just come to you, begging you to weep into a bottle, and then go on my merry way. You need to be present, and they must come straight from your eye as the remedy’s being brewed.”

I c****d my head, frowning with confusion. “Why didn’t you tell me all this from the beginning?”

He sniffed out a disbelieving grunt. “Why do you think? I had no knowledge of this true-love business. I was just a no one, traveling from an enemy land, intent to bring you back to it for weeks, possibly even a moon cycle, and all you knew of me was that I’d fought for your enemy against you. This whole crazy plan is foolish and rash and fraught with danger. You’d have to be insane to agree to come with me.”

I winced. “Well, maybe not insane, but I am prone to making impulsive, not-always-wise decisions. So I would’ve understood your plight perfectly if you had just told me back at the castle.”

His lips quirked at one corner, telling me that I had amused him. But he just as quickly fell serious again. “Then I apologize for snagging you in the night and not simply asking you for your help on my quest from the beginning.”

The way he said snagged gave me pause. It made everything sound so much more—

Oh dear.

“So…” I paused, suddenly realizing. “All this time, you meant to—what—kidnap me?”

He glanced away, his guilt letting me know I was right.

I gurgled out an incredulous laugh. “My God, you did.”

His leery gaze moved over my face. “You think this is funny?”

“No,” I said, sobering immediately. “I don’t, actually.” Licking my dry lips, I tried to comprehend it. “But didn’t you—I mean…” Except I couldn’t fathom it at all. My true love had intended to take me from my home against my will. “So are there, like, chains or something in your pack to keep me bound and held prisoner if I ever thought to resist you?”

“Princess,” he started apologetically, his voice cracking.

“Oh my God, there are!” He looked as if he was going to say something, so I held up a hand to stop him and took a deep breath. “And all this time I thought I was running away with my one true love.”

“I…” Shaking his head miserably, he glanced away. “I’m so sorry.”

He was sorry. The remorse was a hundred percent genuine. It prevented me from getting too upset with him. He’d been trapped in an impossible situation and desperate to save a loved one.

In his shoes, I probably would’ve done the same thing.

I think.

So, I found myself nodding. “It’s fine. Since you’ve come clean and opened up, I can look past your initial intentions. Thank you for giving me the truth.”

“What?” His incredulous features slashed my way. “You’re going to forgive me? Just like that?”

I shrugged. “Yes. I suppose so. Your mission is pure and selfless. And it’s not as if you’ve been even remotely brutish or forceful with me.” Then I grinned sheepishly. “It must’ve been quite a shock to you when I emerged from the castle, fully packed and ready to go wherever you led.”

He blew out an entertaining sound. “Shock was one word for it.” Then he shook his head and repeated his regret. “I don’t know how to apologize enough for—”

I lifted a hand, amused. “You need not apologize at all. I’m exactly where I want to be.”

His lashes opened as he frowned at me, confused.

“With you,” I explained. “I’m still running off with my soul mate. The only change is now I’m going to have to actually work to somehow convince you along the way that I’m what you need as well. We can still end up happily ever after together.”

His mouth fell open. “But—”

“So, honestly,” I went on brightly, “I think the time we spend on this journey to save your mother will give us the perfect opportunity to become familiar with each other so you can fall in love with me without the mark.”

His brow furrowed with doubt. “My lady, I don’t think—”

“It’s Nicolette,” I corrected him. “And our deal is settled.” Glad I knew the truth, I stretched back out on my pallet and closed my eyes, a smile on my face. “I will help you save your mother if you allow me the chance to woo my way into your heart naturally.”

“Nicolette,” he started.

But I only grinned and held up a finger. “Faith, Farrow. Have faith in the mark. It did not steer us wrong. We are meant for each other.”