Fate War: Alliance (29 page)

“How did you…” he started, running his thumb over the picture of her naked form, one arm across her chest, the other draped to cover her other intimate parts.

She took him by the shoulders, and angled him so the inside of the watch caught the sunlight spilling in through the workshop window. A faded, but very real looking life size image appeared beside the real Sam.

“Holy Clinker,” Cole sighed.

Projectagraphic. That’s what Sam said she was thinking of calling it. The erotic mech sitting above his heart only made him miss her more. With each passing hour, he felt more irritated and lost. He was trying to do the right thing, keep her out of harm’s way.

“Damn it, Octavious.” Cole jerked the reigns hard to keep the horse in line, and instantly felt guilty. He never treated his horse this way. He was just so frustrated and wanted to be with Sam.

“Ho!” The cry went up from within the group of soldiers. Struggling with Octavious he missed the sound of an approaching rider until a cloud of dust and the huffs of a panting horse overtook him. Octavious finally settled, and he looked up to see Sam, stern faced, astride a sweat streaked Freedom.

“I told you to stay.” Cole struggled to squelch the joy of her appearance. She couldn’t come. It wasn’t safe, and she directly disobeyed him.

“I’m coming. I’m staying with you.” Her countenance did not waver.

The stomp of a hoof, and squeak of leather reminded Cole of their audience. All eyes from the garrison were watching the two of them. This scene could play out one of two ways, and only one way would make him happy. The other would make him a worthy king. The choice before him now was only slightly harder than it would have been a few weeks ago.

Slag this king clinker. He wanted his wife. “Let’s go!” Cole shouted, and motioned for the caravan to move forward with Sam by his side.

****

All Sam thought about when she made up her mind to leave the manor was being with Cole. She felt like she was unraveling, like Cole had taken a thread of her being and with each passing second, less and less of her remained. Once she caught up to him, her mind and heart steadied again.

She hadn’t thought as far as coming back to the castle. Cole strode through the entry doors, every bit the prince he was. Sam tried desperately to mimic his confidence, but the cutting stares, and outright snarls from the nobles in the crowded entry were like physical blows. She couldn’t make eye contact; just let the blur of striped waist coats, top hats, feathers and lace slip past. It felt like a fire had ignited on the back of her neck where their condescending eyes focused. She was keenly aware of her short hair, peasant top, riding pants, and boots; and so were they. The two short swords that hung at each hip probably had some of the women ready to faint.

At first, she thought Cole didn’t notice the suddenly hushed gathering and the echoing of naught but their boot steps in the entry. But halfway up the grand staircase he stopped and pivoted on his heel. Sam almost bumped into him because the movement was so sudden. She sidestepped, and came to stand on the step next to him.

“I trust you all remember my beautiful wife, Princess Samantha of Perspicia, your future queen?” His voice was deep and tinged with defiance. The crowd rumbled a quiet acknowledgement. Cole put his arm around her waist, and snapped her against his side.

“Let’s really give them something to talk about,” he whispered into her ear, and then he kissed her; deep, passionate, body to body kissing her, in front of all these people who loathed her. Her first inclination was to push him away, and slap his face for such insolence and public display. That was what would be expected of her, until she caught movement from the corner of her eye. A noble woman, one who most definitely had snarled at her, squeaked and toppled over. No one caught her, as all eyes were on Sam and Cole.

Sam grinned against Cole’s lips, pulled his hips tighter to hers, and returned his kiss with fervor. After a few overindulgent moments, Cole took her hand, and they continued up the stairs.

“I can’t believe you did that,” Sam snickered once they were out of sight and continued down the castle corridor.

“Well, you saw how they were all staring at you. I had to let them know you were mine.”

“I should slap that smirk off your face,” Sam teased.

“You could try.”

“I would win.”

“And what would be your prize?”

He pulled her flush to him again, and backed towards a door. Keeping his eyes on her, he waited for her answer. He reached behind him to the handle, and drew her inside the room. Sam’s playful mood was gone. Nothing about this room evoked fun, pleasure, or love.

“Hey, Sam. Come back to me.” Cole sounded so far away, so concerned, but she could barely feel his arms around her. “Sam, please. I didn’t think. Come back to me.” She fought her way out of the nothing threatening her mind and toward his voice. She followed his blue green eyes until she was standing in their bedchambers in front of him. “We can change rooms. It’s not a problem, let’s – “

“No.”

“No?”

She kissed him, trying to ignore all the phantoms that danced in the room. Sam closed her eyes, and concentrated on the feel of Cole’s lips against hers, on the war between their tongues, and his rough stubble tickling her chin. She focused on the sound of his jacket knocking over the desk chair as he threw it across the room, and his hands under her shirt sliding up her back.

He broke the kiss, but not their gaze and they both worked feverishly to kick off their riding boots and unbuckle their sword belts, which landed with clattering thunks at their feet. Sam removed her shirt in one fluid motion, no longer ashamed to do so. How could she be embarrassed with the way he worshiped at her naked form? After a few moments of basking in Cole’s awed admiration, they hurriedly removed their remaining clothing, drinking in the sight of each other.

Cole suddenly lost his predator focus, then closed his eyes with a frustrated huff.

“Slag,” he said under his breath, turned and ran to his study and disappeared behind the door. She giggled at the movement, embarrassed by his nakedness in motion. Some things were still too awkward. Then she realized she was standing alone in the middle of their bed chamber. Sam wrapped her arms around her torso feeling exposed without his presence. Why did he always do that?

The sounds of shuffling containers and clinking jars ended, and Cole reappeared at the study door, leaning one arm against the opening. Sam let her eyes wander over his muscled shoulders and chiseled chest. She stopped at the ripples in his stomach, still not so comfortable with eye contact any lower. Her eyes flit back to his face. He wasn’t happy.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I left some medicinals at the manor.” He pushed off, and strolled across the room, stopping to don his underpants, and pick up her shirt.

“Okay,” Sam said, confused. He motioned for her to lift her arms, and he slid her shirt back on. “What’s wrong?” She tried to push thoughts of her own failures from her mind, but the longer he was silent the more she thought she had displeased him. Her anxiety lessened when he pulled her into his comforting embrace.

“It was the ingredients for your tea.” He kissed the top of her head.

“So? I hate that tea anyway.” She laughed against his chest.

“Sam, that tea is keeping you from getting pregnant and I don’t want to risk – “

“What!” Sam punched more than pushed against the chest she had just been admiring. “You have no right.”

“Sam –” His arms were held to beckon her back to his embrace.

“No! How could you? That wasn’t your decision.” she cried, tears making their way to her cheeks. This betrayal hurt worse than anything previous. She trusted him completely, and he took advantage of it, choosing for her something so personal. “Slag you!” She picked up the closest thing, a discarded riding boot, his or hers she didn’t care, and lobbed it at him. He deflected it easily with on hand.

“You know? Slag you!” He had never been angry with her before, but somehow the furrow in his brow, and the scowl on his face seemed a victory in this battle. “Do you even know how sick you were.… are! A baby would kill you.”

“How would you know? You’re not a doctor. You couldn’t even finish that,” she spat with venom. She wanted him to hurt as much as she did at his lover’s hands.

He bent to pick up the rest of his discarded clothing and walked to the study door. Turning he said, “I did it for you.”

“You should have asked,” she screamed, and picked up the other riding boot.

Cole strode purposely across the room towards her, and she reflexively took a few steps back under his towering figure.

“And what would you have said?” She was tempted to back down under his intense gaze, but the thought of giving in only made her angrier.

“I would have said no. Getting pregnant is what all of this is about.” She flailed her arms indicating the room, the castle, themselves. Cole nodded, and pursed his lips, turning back to the study door.

“I thought
we
were what this was all about,” he said over his shoulder, disappearing into the study. She threw the boot, and it connected with the slamming study door to land in a slump on the floor. Sam mimicked the boot and sank down, rocking herself against the pain.

The ghosts of past fear and torment that presided in the room began to whisper. Betrayed. Yes, She felt so betrayed; and by Cole. How could it be Cole? He was just like everyone else, trying to change her, make decisions for her, mold her into what she was supposed to be in their eyes. He as good as lied, and she felt violated for it. Eventually her tears, but not her anger, were exhausted and she climbed into bed to face her nightmares alone.

“Are they really comfortable? I mean, I would think having something wrapped so tightly around my legs and my…well, you know…Sam? Are they?” Sam blushed under the scrutiny of the cheeky woman beside her.

After wandering the castle halls aimlessly for most of the morning, avoiding the stares that slid down the noses of every noble she encountered, Sam found herself helping a group of common women prepare musket loads for the coming battles.

Sam wasn’t surprised they had no idea who she was. The other noblewomen in the castle were sitting in the sewing room, bemoaning the hard times the war would bring instead of helping, not to mention her odd dress.

“Flora! Don’t be so rude.” Lottie, the woman on the other side of Sam, leaned over the table to chastise her friend.

“It’s okay,” Sam consoled. It was oddly comforting to be approached right out about her differences. “I do find britches comfortable, especially for riding.”

“Good on you.” Flora nodded, then leaned in conspiratorially. “But what about a man? Do you think you can snag one dressed like that?”

Sam giggled, and removed one of the gloves protecting her hands from the gunpowder, and flashed her wedding band at them.

“No,” Lottie breathed, “I’ll say. Must be some man to handle you.”

The three women giggled, then Lottie and Flora resumed their familiar chatting. They all continued the monotonous job of making musket charges. Paper, powder, lead ball, seal. Paper, powder, lead ball, seal.

At least it was something to keep her hands busy, but not Sam’s mind. There was no place for her in the tinker’s workshop here, where she might find a mental distraction. It made her miss the workshop Cole gave her. Missing Cole made her angry. Paper, powder, lead ball, seal.

How could he have done such a thing without asking her? He just didn’t want a baby with her. That was what this was really about. He didn’t care for her wellbeing at all. That stupid tea was all about his manly needs. Paper, powder, lead ball, seal.

But then again, Sam hadn’t realized just how sick she was until this morning. Ironically enough she woke up to her first
monthly
cycle in years. Why she hadn’t realized the cause of this was her eating habits, she didn’t know. Cole knew. He always tried to convince her to eat more. She couldn’t think of a selfish reason for him to do that. So, he got a point. Paper, powder, lead ball, seal.

He still should have asked. What would she have said? If she had refused the tea, would he have refused her? If he hadn’t refused her after kicking him in the gonads…Sam stifled a grin, and she felt her face flush at the memory of the incident, his proposal, the wedding, and wedding night. Paper, powder, lead ball, seal. Okay, two points.

The workshop, the library, comfort, the mechman, chocolate mousse, new clothes, patience, a choice, and Freedom, not just the horse.

“Sam?” Flora asked, concerned.

“Yes.” Sam looked to the woman, and realized gunpowder was pouring freely from the horn she was using.

“You okay, Dearie?” Lottie gasped.

Sam quickly righted the container, laid it on the table and chucked her gloves. “I’m fine. I’m just fine,” she said, and ran from the courtyard to the castle, a wave of curious stares following her.

She was a slagging idiot. Sam chided herself as she dashed through the castle corridors. Every kind and patient thing Cole had done for her in the last weeks amassed on her heart, making it hard to breathe. Why had she reacted so badly last night? He was only trying to protect her, and she pushed him away, threw a boot at him – two boots.