Page 36 of Married By Treachery

“I am,” Sienne admitted, though both her tone and posture were careful. As if she feared that by speaking, she was entering into some agreement she wanted no part in.

Regardless, Raquel extended her hand. “I wanted to thank you. For saving my life.”

Sienne looked at Raquel’s hand, then her eyes. “You saved my daughter. We’re even.” Her gaze flickered absently to the loft, where Raquel knew a little girl was hiding, and then Sienne turned to Jake and said, “We are ready.”

12

“Imust confess,” Jake said to Raquel as they rode a steady pace through the mist and trees. He sat behind her in the saddle, one arm wrapped around her waist, the other holding fast to Vizzi’s reins. “I am grieved to hear that my beloved bride finds her new kingdom…wanting.”

He didn’t sound grieved in the slightest.

“Grieved? Why, my dear prince, such feelings require a heart.” She eyed him over her shoulder, but he flashed that devastating grin, and she promptly looked ahead again. “And anyway, what does it matter what I think?”

“What does it matter?” He feigned offense. “You are my bride, and nothing is more important to me than your happiness.”

Raquel couldn’t help it. She laughed. So loudly, in fact, Banon glanced over at them from where he sat upon his own horse.

Jake’s arm tightened around her waist, sending a little (and unfortunately pleasant) thrill through her body. Especially when his chest pressed to her back and he lowered his mouth to her ear and whispered, “I have something for you.”

Before she could wonder or find the voice that had suddenly abandoned her, Jake presented a red rose.

She stared at the flower, at this brilliant bolt of color made more vibrant amidst the surrounding grays. Its silken petals bloomed in full, and its sweet perfume filled her nose. She inhaled deep, in awe and in wonder, then caught herself.

Jake’s coat had invoked senses as well.

“Is this a glamour?” she asked.

“No. Touch a thorn if you like. Glamour is uniquely persuasive, but I promise you it can’t draw blood.”

She believed him. Then, “Where in the world did you find this?”

“That, my bride, is a secret.” His voice was as silken as the petals.

“Your entire life is a secret,” she managed.

“Well, this little secret is yours.” He held the rose closer.

She almost reached for it. “Why are you giving me this?”

He chuckled. “Always so suspicious.”

She glared back at him which—yet again—was a mistake. He was too close, and his arm still encircled her waist, and she could not look at him without thinking of last night. Of the look in his eyes when he’d nearly kissed her.

“Is it too much to believe that I simply wish to court my bride?” he asked, as if taking great joy in her discomfiture.

“Then where were theseexemplarymanners before?”

“Do you mean when you were trying to murder me in my sleep? I have, on occasion, misinterpreted a woman’s feelings for me, but I didn’t think it a good idea to parry your blow with a flower.”

Raquel grinned despite herself, and then he grabbed her hand and set the rose inside of it, careful so that the thorns did not prick her skin.

Their gazes met.

“Tell me you do not appreciate my gift,” he said. “Tell me, and I will take it back.” His words caressed her, and she could not—for the life of her—deny his gift.

But then she remembered their conversation from the night before. When he’d said she drove a hard bargain. “I will not bargain for a kiss, my prince.”

He smiled, all charm and innocence. “This is no bargain, my bride. As I said: it is a gift.”

---