The Guardian (Chronicles of Dover's Amalgam Book 1) (20 page)

She shook her head. Her eyes were wide and watery. “Stay with me and I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”

“I must fight—”

“Don’t leave me,” she pleaded. She shook her head until his fingers no longer held her still. “I came here because of you. You can’t leave me now.”

Jareth closed his eyes for the beat of two seconds, then exhaled sharply. “I have to go. You will be safe. I promise. I will protect your hiding place. You have to trust me.”

Elizabet’s lip quivered as she stepped back and away from him. His words worked their magic. “I trust you,” she whispered, for it was all she could get out. Her breath had left her. The words ‘trust me’ curled around her heart; it was what she had to do.

Jareth inclined his head briefly. Something fierce crossed his features before he turned and walked beyond the pillar and into the battle.

She could do nothing but watch him leave.

MINH AND GABRIEL
fought dirty. It was the first time Jareth was in battle with them that he could remember. He was aware this would be the norm in the future, but this was the first time he had to trust them to ally with him. They used tactics that were both odd and not chivalrous.

They used their heads to smack the guards, they tripped and took advantage where they ought not, kicked kidneys when they had someone down, and Jareth was pretty sure he witnessed a bite of teeth, as well. Still, they were losing. War was real, not romanticized as it was in fiction. Jareth was tired and sore, which made him slow. He was also preoccupied that Elizabet was a mere stone’s throw away from where he was killing people.

The man wounded while escaping Dover Castle was dead, as were the men who carried him from the tunnel—each of them except the one named Quill. Quill continued to fight with a broken sword, yet he was out numbered. The boy was a lowly armor bearer and lacked battle skills. It was not just a battle, but a storm. It was at their backs, their fronts, between their fingers and in their ears. It made fighting difficult. It weighed down each movement and hindered hearing; surprise was working against them.

Jareth was normally a careful soldier, but today he was different. He wanted blood and retribution for the people slain for the sole unfortunate reason that they were his. Each time a soldier approached, he pictured the family whose bodies had been strung on his fence in charred ruins. It was easy to make the choice to kill rather than maim. He sliced through flesh, arteries, and bone. That dark place in his mind took over and allowed him to function as a machine. Never in his life had he felt the insistent urge to be so violent on purpose. It was both troubling and exhilarating—but he had no time to tarry on it, which pleased him. Perhaps it was both. He only relented when he kept watch over Elizabet’s hiding place. For the thousandth time, he glanced to where she was hidden and did not see her. He turned in a circle, his eyes searching the perimeter.

Gabriel was killing an archer; he held the young boy’s body upright and ran his sword through him. Minh was yanking an arrow from the neck of another and already drawing back to strike again. Quill was holding off Sir James and three others with his broken half sword.

Bang

Jareth whirled just in time to spot a knight approaching from behind, his sword raised. Jareth lifted his sword overhead, then lowered it to slice the soldier’s midriff and continued his arc. His body reeled with agony from his earlier beating and now the grueling task he gave it. He picked up the newly fallen soldier’s sword and turned back into the battle with two blades. His arms trembled with the weight of two weapons. He did not know how much longer he could hold out.

Having Jeremy hovering over him compelled him, however. He would never view mere wind the same, and although it was a nuisance to fight in, it was also lethal and it fueled him. Knowing it was the host he was responsible for empowered him—as though he was invincible with Jeremy surrounding him like a wind kissed blanket. If he was attentive, he could hear the boy’s voice riding in the winds. The host was communicating with him, to protect what was his and honor what had been taken from him. If only his bride would stay put so he could focus on what was at hand.

Bang

“She’s got a pistol,” Minh called.

Jareth’s eyes frantically searched until they found her. He saw her then—Elizabet—stationed at the helm of the battle. She was cutting through the crowd, aiming and taking fire at each foe she crossed. Her pale face was illuminated with raindrops, but ashen in appearance. She aimed and fired straight at the kneecap of the archer aiming for Minh. Another archer who had scaled the abbey’s wall was sighted on her, but Minh drew back and sailed an arrow into his heart. The body fell silently to the ground.

Bang

“Elizabet,” Jareth called. He used his shoulder to press a knight back and then skewered him with his sword. “Aim higher.
Kill
them
.
”

She shook her head, her nose wrinkling.

Gabriel thrust a dead knight from his sword. “Aim for their chest.”

“No!” she called. She squeezed her eyes shut as she pulled the trigger.

Bang

Another knight fell, clutching his knee. Blood sputtered and hit the hem of her cloak. She sidestepped him as he reached for her. Minh shot an arrow that penned the man’s arm to the muddy ground. She stepped over it and stopped to reload.

Jareth noticed the way her hand trembled; a few bullets fell to the ground. She bit her lip, sucked in a deep breath, and swayed on her feet. He knew that look. It was the look she got before she spewed her guts. Something drew his attention; he looked up. Sir James was poised behind her, advancing with his sword drawn high above his head. Jareth had seen that before, as well. He had fought plenty of battles with the legendary naval captain. It was James’s stance for beheading.

JARETH HELD ELIZABET
under his cloak, close to his body as Gabriel and Minh searched for a mode of transportation. He did not want to think too hard about what he was doing or he may release her and yell at her for being so stupid.

James had been about to kill her. Decapitate her—right there before Jareth’s eyes.

He was furious. Everything changed in that moment. Using dual swords like a pair of scissors, he lopped off the head of Sir James. His action was swift and executed without mercy. An eye for an eye. No one dared threaten his duchess. He hardly knew where his strength came from—he was weak as a kitten.

At the moment of Sir James’s death, the storm winds tapered off. Obviously, Jeremy had discerned his guardian’s safety—or Jareth hoped that was the case. The surge would take a while to recede, but the storm had died to a gentle breeze and an occasional drop of rain. Now it was all Jareth could do to sit here with Elizabet in his arms and not cry like a baby. He hurt everywhere. After seeing to exploded knee caps, various sword wounds (some of which he had caused), and five archery wounds, he was exhausted. But this was his life; his portion. He was both physician and knight.

Quill reported that Sir James’s family had fled with the monks of the abbey. They were headed for the king’s estate. He had found five others who belonged with them. They had been chained to the exterior of the abbey and awaited execution. Only a few monks remained, and were gathering the dead bodies for burial.

“I’ve never shot a person before,” Elizabet said. She spoke into his cloak, her face hidden.

“Hush,” Jareth said. “Do not think on such things now. We are not yet safe.”

He was well aware that she had never shot a human before. She had been brave to not remain hidden. An idiot, but brave too. He asked her to be brave and she delivered. It was one of the most majestic things he had ever lain eyes on.

She had gone for their knee caps with the intent to slow them, so he and his men could take them down. It was a bold move that took thought and careful execution. It was no surprise that she had hidden a pistol to protect herself. Deep within, he had expected her to join in somehow.

Jareth was quite sure he had lost his heart to her in that moment. He’d observed her in deep concentration as she directed each shot to a precise area. It was the reason he was able to offer her comfort in his arms. He had never held anyone the way he was holding her now. She was a lioness and she belonged to him. She deserved and had earned his comfort. The only thing that got to him about her feat was the torturous sutures and packing he had to perform on her subjects. It was bloody, nasty, and he was sure two of the men would lose partial function in their legs. The bullets had exploded the cartilage to pieces.

Elizabet looked up at him. “Will they come for us?”

“Yes.” He would not lie to her as he stared down into the depths of her brown eyes. He moved a stray hair that lay across her cheek. “They will come for me. I have broken a betrothal and killed her father—a nobleman. This will be brought to the king. I will be called to give account. But this is where you come in. You cannot cease to be brave.” He wanted to know who taught her marksmanship of the caliber she displayed. Handling a firearm was obviously something she did with ease.

“I’m scared,” she said. Her chin rolled to her chest. “And I want to go home. Now. Please.”

“You shall. But first, we have things to settle here.” He placed his fingers under her chin and lifted her face. It was surreal to be with her and it reminded him of how they came to be this way. She belonged to him. “You married me. Why?”

“It didn’t work out the way it was supposed to,” Elizabet sounded desperate. “All of this,” she flapped her arms and his cloak fanned outward, “was in vain. You’re still in trouble.”

Jareth’s lips curved into a slight smile. “But I am married. I have gained a wife.”

“I’m not sure it’s official. Minh says—”

“It is official,” he said again. Elizabet’s mouth closed; her lips pursed as she nodded slightly.

“Figures,” she muttered. Her eyes narrowed when she spotted the cuts, scrapes, and bruises on his face.

“This troubles you?” He closed his eyes as her fingertips brushed his cheek and grazed above his swollen eye. “You know I will take care of you. You belong to me and I take that very seriously.”

“There is always an annulment,” she said, her palm flattened to the side of his face. She tilted his face side to side as if to assess the obvious damage.

He lifted his head and her hand fell away. “No.” His eyes went cold and void as he stared at her. “No,” he repeated with more force. He gripped her shoulders, his fingers digging into the tender flesh of her neck. There was no way he was letting her go. What was done was done. “It is the way it should be.”

“I’m only seventeen,” she murmured, and laid her hand on his cheek one last time before it fell to her side. “It’s the way of things here, but not where I come from.”

“This is where you belong.” He added conviction to his voice.

“I don’t know where I belong,” she said. She sighed and looked away. Gabriel watched from a distance. He averted his eyes when he noticed her attention. “But I did it because I think I do belong here.” She faced Jareth abruptly. “Do I still have that time you told me I could have? You won’t force me to stay here—against my will?” He shook his head slowly, his right thumb pressed into her clavicle. “Because I need more time. We hardly know each other.”

“All right,” Jareth agreed. He released her and his hands slid over her shoulders and onto her waist. His body was treacherous. There was not a space on her person that his did not want to know—to touch. “You can have whatever you want.” She could have his heart, for starters.

That made her expression turn conniving. “Later,” she promised, a smile on her lips. She brought her hands up between them and pushed at his chest with her fingertips. “You’re hurt and I’ve played nurse to you before. I’m sure you’ve already diagnosed yourself. It’s what you do, boss everybody around.” He opened his mouth to say something, but she placed her right index finger over his lips. “Just tell me what’s wrong with you?”

Jareth’s eyes slid to half-mast at the sensations she caused within him. They were possibly caused by a bit of blood loss, but greatly possible this was what life with a wife would be like. “My ribs,” he said while he watched her closely. “I will bandage them when we are safe. There is nothing to it. The human body can take much more than we give it credit for.”

“Did they beat you?” she asked. Her anger was badly veiled. He barely hid a smile.

“I will be pissing blood for about a week,” he replied. Her eyes widened, then she cleared her throat and looked away as if insulted by his choice of words. The little actress. He let out the glee he was holding back with a burst of laughter. It was a short, self-depreciating chortle. A slight indiscreet word had turned the conversation and for that he was grateful. Things were getting too touchy feely and he was not sure about that part. “That is what happens when your kidneys are kicked. Over and over.”

“They
kicked
you?”

He shrugged. “I would take a thousand beatings not to marry that hellcat James calls a daughter. She had innocent people killed merely because she is spoiled.”

“Gabriel told me,” Elizabet said. She pushed him away and wrapped her arms around her body. She was still under his cloak, but put distance between them. She rubbed her arms in an attempt to warm her wet body. “Why didn’t you tell me about her when I brought her name up? It would have been nice to know that you’re betrothed.”

“Prince Edward has difficulty seeing beyond his own desires. He was the one who pressed for the union. It was hoped that when I gained my title, our marriage would unite the coast of Britain. When it became evident that I would not bow to their wishes, Catherine had my men slaughtered to make a statement. If she ever had a chance at becoming my duchess, that chance died when she killed my people. I shall never marry her.”

“Marriage to her would be that bad?”

“What do you want to know? Are you politely asking why she bothered having people murdered or are you asking because you want to know where you stand in comparison? Are you jealous?”