Trust In Love: A Love Mark Romance

by Linda Kage

  I pulled back, certain I was seeing things. But the dead man remained dead.

  Slowly, I turned around.

  Nicolette stood there, holding some strange device that looked to be made of black iron. It was a tube with smoke wafting up from the end and had a bent handle to hold on to. And it seemed to be pointed directly at where my last assailant had been standing.

  The princess sent me a dry, unimpressed blink, then twisted the tube up toward her mouth so she could blow at the smoke, cooling the metal.

  “So far,” she said, “I’m not an avid fan of your kingdom.”

  “Did you…?” I blinked, positive I was interpreting the situation all wrong. Then I pointed at her. “Did you just kill those two with that thing?”

  She scowled as if offended. “Well, they were being excessively rude, attacking before questioning anything, calling me ugly names, and threatening to rape me. And then they had the gall to attempt to kill my true love. I’m sorry but that was just unacceptable, and I’d had enough. Someone needed to teach the rude, overbearing ingrates some manners.”

  I glanced back at the five dead men and nodded. “Consider them taught.”

  “I mean, who does that?” she railed. “It’s simply poor social conduct and lack of proper etiquette, is what it is.”

  Quirking a smile, I turned back to her. “Welcome to real life, princess. Where almost everyone is an impertinent, selfish asshole, looking after their own interest and not giving a shit about anyone else’s.”

  “Well, it’s not right.” Negligently waving her tube around, she fumed. “Here I was, dead tired from lack of sleep, my muscles sore in places I didn’t even know I had them from riding on horseback for—what—five or six nights straight? I’ve lost track of the days. I haven’t bathed in almost a week, or eaten anything but that dry, hard, tasteless whatever it is you’ve been feeding me. I’d give anything for about five more liters of water to drink. My back aches from sleeping on the ground, my hips ache from riding, my feet ache from the blisters these sandals have given me. My menstrual courses started days ago, so I’m bloated, cramping, cranky, and irritable. And then this—this…”

  She glared right at me as she pointed at the dead men. “Just when you kiss me back like you really mean it, these fucking cutthroats come along and immediately attack, trying to kill my soul mate without even attempting to discover if you’re one of their own countrymen or not, and then they didn’t even have the courtesy to consider me a threat the entire time. I’m just—I’m sorry, but they really, really pissed me off.”

  “Aye,” I murmured, walking toward her. “I can tell.” When I reached her, I gently put my hand over hers that was holding the killer tube and I slowly lowered her arm so she wouldn’t inadvertently blow a hole through me, too. Then I cupped her cheek with my other palm. “But it’s over now, princess. We’re okay. We made it.”

  She nodded and heaved out a long breath, her eyes weary and apologetic. With a sniff, she said, “I’m so sorry you have to see me like this. I was trying so hard to hide all my whiny, bad-tempered traits from you, but they just—”

  “It’s okay,” I repeated, my voice low and steady—soothing. Leaning in to press my forehead to hers, I added, “You’ve had a long, rough time of it. I’d say you’re allowed to unload a bit of your stress if you want.”

  “Thank you.” She sniffed and closed her eyes. “But I still didn’t want you to see me acting so—”

  “Shh.” I rolled my forehead along hers and tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear. “The only thing I see right now is an amazingly remarkable heroine. You stood up to those men without even a smidgeon of fear.” An amused smile spread across my face. “It’s all part of your crazy charm, I guess.”

  She flushed. “I’m not usually quite so crazy. High-strung and impetuous, yes, but—”

  I pressed a finger against her mouth to hush her. Once she fell quiet and met my gaze, I winked. “Don’t ruin it for me. You’re exactly my kind of crazy.”

  And then I kissed her.

  I’m not sure what came over me; I simply needed my lips against hers like I needed air in my lungs. And she seemed to feel the same. Her mouth pressed forward eagerly.

  She was always so fervent about the idea of intimacy between us. Her enthusiasm, charm, and all-out joy was addictive as hell. I wanted to own it for myself. Own her in a way I’d never been connected to anyone.

  It wasn’t just a mere tupping I craved, either. Yeah, I wanted to bed her, but I also ached to share pieces beyond the physical, some inner connection of the mind and spirit that bound us implicitly, until we were—ah shit.

  Like soul mates.

  I tore away from her, remembering I didn’t believe in such things. And then everything else came back as well: reality, and the fact that I had lied to her since I’d met her, and that I really didn’t have time to stand here, shoving my tongue down her throat.

  Sable waited.

  “Fuck,” I hissed, backing away and wiping my hand across my mouth. I shook my head, eying her warily. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  Her eyes softened as if she felt bad for me. Then she stepped forward. “But, Farrow. It’s okay. We’re—”

  “No.” I pointed at her sternly. “Do not try to foist that true-love rubbish on me again. It’s not so. I am not your other half, princess. And someday, I’ll prove it, and you’ll know all the lore behind your special tattoo is just a sham.”

  Whenever she learned everything and could look at me with nothing but hate, she’d realize it with stark, ugly facts.

  She paused at my tone and blinked, only to repeat, “A sham?” Her voice held more surprise than anger or hurt feelings, however. Then she sniffed out an amused sound. “You mean proof like that hole you no longer have in your shoulder from the arrow wound?”

  My hand immediately sought my shoulder.

  Hell fire. I’d forgotten about being shot by the arrow. Too much had happened in the last five minutes to keep track of everything. But when I prodded the area, trying to determine how bad off I was, all I found was dried blood smeared across my upper torso.

  The wound had healed completely.

  Smirking triumphantly, Nicolette arched an eyebrow. “Forgot I’d kissed that all better, didn’t you?”

  I shook my head, unable to buy her story. “This only tells me you possess some kind of magical healing qualities. Maybe the tattoo contains medicinal herbs that can self-heal you and those that you kiss.” I shrugged. “It would explain why High Cliff amassed such a grand army. They can patch whatever wounds they accrue in battle and keep going.”

  Nicolette rolled her eyes and folded her arms across her chest. “Now that’s just absurd.”

  “It is,” I agreed when a buzzard cawed overhead. “About as absurd as being able to spot your true love at first sight, I’d say.” I glanced up at the circling bird, realized it had friends with it, and then dropped my attention to the bodies sprawled around us. “We need to go.”

  “Oh, you’re not getting out of this conversation so easily,” she countered.

  “I didn’t figure I would.” Slightly out of breath as I rushed to round up Mint and Caramel, I glanced her way. “But we’ll have to postpone it for another time, princess, before more Far Shore border radicals show up to greet us in a similar fashion or those buzzards mistake us for one of the dead and try to have us for breakfast.”

  Nicolette looked up uneasily and winced. “I suppose you’re right.” She fumbled in her haste to mount Caramel when I tossed the horse’s reins to her.

  Before scrambling into the saddle myself, I relieved a few of the deceased of their weapons and then leaped onto Mint.

  Wrinkling her nose, Nicolette said, “I hope you mean to clean that chain mace. It’s positively nasty.”

  “Oh, aye,” I told her with a wink. “It’s my first order of business once we get ourselves out of immediate, mortal danger.”

  Urging the horse into action, I spurred us forwar
d and guided her toward the tree line that signified the boundary of my homeland. We hadn’t even stepped into Far Shore yet, and danger had already doubled. Maybe it would be best to tell Nicolette the truth now so she could return home while still on Donnelly soil. The scorpions would provide her with safe passage, I was sure. Those fucking bugs adored her.

  But when I glanced her way, I couldn’t seem to part with her just yet. Her hair was still mussed from kissing me, a smudge of dirty sand streaked across one cheekbone from our skirmish with the renegades, and she still held that metal tube of death down at her side as if ready to defend us against the next attack.

  It was the most glorious sight I’d ever seen.

  A part of me began to wonder…

  What if she was my soul mate? I mean, if that were the case, I shouldn’t part with her; it would be better for both of us if we stayed together. Two halves could certainly survive apart, but they would positively shine as one.

  But, no. That was just absurd.

  She wasn’t mine. She couldn’t be.

  I cleared my throat from such fanciful notions and motioned toward her tube. “What is that thing, anyway?”

  “Hmm?” She turned to me with raised eyebrows before realizing what I meant. “Oh. It’s a cold, er…” Her forehead immediately furrowed. “Something like that. I can’t quite remember what Indy called it when he gave it to me.”

  “Indy?” I repeated, a chill forming in my bones. “Your bodyguard gave you a present?”

  I suddenly wanted to gut the bastard.

  Nicolette shot me a sly, knowing glance. “Don’t be jealous, my love. It was merely a tool to help me protect myself in case something happened to him and he could no longer defend me. Which is exactly what did happen. He also trained me in many hand-to-hand, self-defensive combat moves. My safety was very important to him.”

  “Of course, it was,” I muttered bitterly. When the princess lifted a challenging eyebrow, I pointed sternly and added, “And I’m not jealous.”

  I merely would’ve liked to make a necklace out of her precious bodyguard’s entrails for ever talking to her, or looking at her, or spending as much time as he obviously had with her and making her so obscenely happy.

  Clearing my throat, I got back on track, and hitched my chin toward her tube. “Is it magical?”

  Nicolette lowered her attention to the object and sniffed. “Definitely not. You know I can’t stand handling magical things. Which is probably why Indigo gave it to me for protection in the first place. Because after—well, you know, after what happened with my sister-in-law—he wanted something powerful and effective for me, but he also knew whatever I handled couldn’t be enchanted in any way.”

  “Right, so…” I frowned at the contraption. “How did you order it to kill those men?”

  “Oh! It’s really very simple. You just squeeze this little lever here. Actually, first, you need to aim. Point this end at your target and…” She shrugged and sent me a magnetic smile. “You get the drift.”

  “Yes, I believe I do.” I reached out. “Can I—”

  She immediately pulled it away and even shifted Caramel a step over to ride further from me. “Sorry, it’s not wise to play with. It can be dangerous, and besides, there’s only a limited amount of bulls—no…” She squinted at the device. “That’s not the right word either. Bullers? Ballers? Ballets? Ooh, bullets! That’s it. There are only so many bullets left in it. Five now that I’ve used two. Once they’re all gone, the cold—er, cot—or whatever it’s called will be useless. We can’t waste them on practice.”

  I pulled my hand back, trying to hide my disappointment, because I’d really, really wanted to examine the odd apparatus closer.

  “I wasn’t going to pull the lever,” I groused, feeling a bit petulant over the fact that she wouldn’t even let me hold the damn thing.

  Ignoring my tone, Nicolette sheathed her non-magical sword—though it evidently possessed some kind of magical enchantment with those miniature, exploding projectiles—back into her saddle bags and smiled up at me sunnily.

  “So, are you really a palace guard? You protect the castle? And the…” She gulped uneasily. “The king?”

  I blinked at her. “What?”

  She motioned to my ensemble. “Those men back there. They said you were dressed like a royal palace guard.”

  “Oh.” I looked down at myself, then up again. “No, my lady. I’m not a knight at all. Just a mere stable hand.”

  Her eyebrows lowered as if she had a hard time believing that.

  “I was technically never in the army,” I added. “They only let me join the fray when we attacked Donnelly to get their numbers up.”

  “Then why are you dressed like one of the king’s knights, ready for war?”

  Telling her the truth wouldn’t hurt anything, so I explained, “I still had the outfit from when I fought with them. And it seemed like smart gear to wear for trekking through the desert for days on end. So I dug it up before leaving my stable.”

  Her grin turned naughty. “Well, it’s definitely an appealing ensemble to wear.”

  My blood thickened, but I ignored the cravings she stirred. “I’ll change once we find a safer place to pause in the woods. We’ll get something warmer for you to wear then, as well.”

  Disappointment crossed her features, but all she did was nod. “So where does your mother live?”

  The question was so unexpected that my thoughts stumbled. “What?”

  “My sense of topography is horrendous. I only know of three major villages in Far Shore: Pinsky, Vance, and the capital. Are we traveling to Pinsky or Vance, by chance?” She winced as if silently begging me to say yes.

  But I couldn’t. I had to swallow guiltily before murmuring, “No, my lady. We travel to Blayton.”

  Her cheeks turned an ashen gray. “The capital, then? Where the king lives?”

  The king in which even she knew she should never go near. He was her brother’s sworn enemy. Being in the same city as him would be beyond dangerous.

  It took everything I had to keep my feelings in check and blocked. Remaining as calm as possible, while my heart pounded hard, I gave an imperceptible bow of my head. “Aye,” I rasped. “Where the king lives.”

  But I’ll die before letting him get close to you; I swear it, I promised silently.

  She nodded again, paler than before. “Then I agree with you,” she started. “It’s probably best that I cover my tattoo as soon as possible.”

  We’d just reached the forest and I could hear the waters of a small babbling brook up ahead through the trees. Knowing exactly which stream we approached, I grinned.

  “I’ll do you one even better than that, princess.” Remembering one of her grievances about desiring a wash, I said, “How would you like to bathe before getting a complete makeover?”

  16

  Nicolette

  “Oh God,” I moaned.

  This felt divine.

  I tell you, nothing—nothing—felt as good as cleaning in the rocky stream of a small but glorious waterfall after going dirty for nearly a week.

  Another groan flowed from my lungs as I ran my fingers through my wet hair and rinsed out the scrubbing salts I’d smothered it with. I had used all the salts I’d packed from home, but it was worth it to clean myself.

  Farrow had rummaged through my clothes before leading me down to the stream so he could pick out appropriate Far Shore garments, as he’d referred to them. So a jewel-blue dress and leather boots awaited me on the shore to change into. But I was hesitant to leave the water just yet. It was simply marvelous here.

  And cool.

  The one stream we had at home down in the village of Mandalay was always so warm and temperate. The bracing feel of this water was kind of invigorating and refreshing. It made my nipples harden like fresh berries. After living my entire life in a desert, it was fascinating to experience my first true chill.

  It was kind of erotic, truth be told.


  I glanced down at my puckered breasts and slipped my palm over the heavy lumps.

  Soon, I might actually get Farrow to do this with his hand. Picturing him out there in the trees somewhere, watching me, I turned a little more aggressive, plumping the flesh under my fingers until a sharp ache pierced me between the legs.

  “Mmm.” I sank deeper into the waterfall, until the stream gushed around my hair, over my shoulders, and then chased my hand down as I left my breasts and moved toward the aching throb between my legs.

  The fantasy was so fresh and clear in my head; I leaned against the rock wall of the falls and tipped my chin up until the shower hit me on the forehead. Only my face, breasts, and a bent knee broke through the curtain of water.

  I pictured Farrow worrying about me because I was taking too long. Spoiled princess and all that.

  “My lady,” he would call as he approached, but of course, I wouldn’t hear as my ears were currently under the roar of the babbling brook. So he’d wander closer. “Nicolette?”

  And then he’d jar to a halt when he saw me, my breasts beaded and ready for his mouth with water clinging to my flesh, waiting for him to lick it all away. Some of my hair would cover other portions of me, teasing him to move closer and see more. He’d gulp and watch as my hand moved between my legs.

  I’d open my eyes and catch him standing there, his gaze hot and needy. So I’d reach toward him, and say, “I’ve found a spot I can’t quite reach. Help me finish cleaning, would you, my love?”

  “But of course, princess,” he’d answer, with the front of his animal-skin kilt tenting madly as he started toward me, and his eyelids heavy with arousal. “Whatever you need.”

  It was all so vivid and real in my head that I opened my eyes, hand already stretched out of the water for him, only to find no one on the banks of the stream watching me but a squirrel who’d paused halfway up a tree to gape at the weird human touching herself in the water.

  I made a sound of disappointment and embarrassment and started to drop my hand until I realized dark gunk was clumped under my fingernails.