The Guardian (Chronicles of Dover's Amalgam Book 1) (24 page)

“But I shall mourn you,” she said. In for a penny, in for a pound. There was nowhere to hide from what they were barreling toward. There was no time like the present to uncover which direction she needed to go. If she was stuck here with him, she needed ground rules. She wanted to know how he was invested where she was concerned.

“I shall mourn you for only a day and then follow you into death. It is said that I die of a broken heart.” Her shoulders rolled upward and her hands came from under her cloak, her fingers fanned as if she was releasing something. “I say I’m terrified that you will break me, when I already know you will.”

Jareth’s stepped toward her, his hand extended. Elizabet stared at his outstretched palm, blinking back sudden tears of self-pity she instantly hated. She did not want him to see her cry. He was not a man who understood emotions of a hormonal teenager. She did not know the nature of his care. Sir Jareth Tremaine—his grace—was overwhelming.

Regardless of her efforts, a sob left her throat. “Can it be possible?” The words tumbled from her mouth. “I can’t bear it if you go away.” She clasped her hands before her as if in prayer. “Please, don’t leave or send me away again. I don’t know what else to do if I’m not with you. I’m nobody without you. I almost went crazy with depression when you left me before. I don’t know if I can take it again.”

“Hush,” Jareth said. He grabbed her hands and sandwiched them between his, but made no move closer. “I will not leave you. You belong with me now.”

“For how long?” she asked. She shook one of her hands free to swipe at her nose. Her composure was returning as quickly as she lost it, because her mind was a sea of ideas. Notions ran through her thought process as if on a conveyer belt. That, and she did not want him to see her runny nose. “You don’t know me—not really.”

“You are my duchess.” He released her hand to lift his to her face. “And I am quite partial to you now. I am sure I will learn of you as we get on. There is no need for histrionics. I promise wherever I go, you will be by my side.”

Her nose wrinkled. “I don’t think I’m being dramatic, but I do feel as though you’re making fun of me.”

“Why would I make fun of you?” he asked. “That would not benefit me.”

Elizabet reached up to grasp his wrist. Her cheek pressed into his palm gently as she squeezed. “How do you feel about me?” she dared to ask. “I just told you that I’m destined for a broken heart because of you. Surely, you know how I feel about you.” It made her skin heat again, and certainly flush a hue that made her face unattractive, but she did not care. She had to know. “Do you like me even a little? Like a girlfriend?”

Jareth’s eye’s widened a fraction. “You are worried that I do not
like
you?” She nodded. A puff of air left his lips. “Do you listen to me at all?” He curled his fingers into a fist and drew his hand away from her face. “It is as I said a while ago at your home. I thought I made my intentions clear.”

She released his wrist and stepped back at the fury that crossed his features. He looked down at her, his blue eyes snapping with an anger she had never seen directed at her before. True, he had said he liked her, but she needed clarification. She wanted to know if that like was platonic.

“We’ve never been clear on this,” she said in a wavering voice. Her nose itched; she wiggled it and sniffed, then motioned between them. “I don’t know what I am to you. Your friend? Your nurse? What? How do I act? I mean, you hold me next to you and sometimes I think your touch is something more, but you tell me not to romanticize you. I’m scared I’ll miss something and get hurt. It’s one thing to pine over you in death, but to go through a life with no affection—I don’t know if I can do that. You said we still have free will, so that means I can stop this now before it gets any further.”

“You have the power to ruin me,” he said, and his voice held a bitter edge. He sliced into the conversation before she was finished saying her piece. His jaw hardened. He stepped further from her as if he now needed the distance. “I know bone aching, soul rending pain that you could not bear, so do not speak to me of broken vows and broken hearts.”

He pointed at her. “I made you my wife willingly, because I trust you. You are my friend. My nurse. The keeper of my damaged soul. I stopped in Portsmouth to give validity to our vows. No one will take you from me.” His hand curled into a fist before he lowered it to his side. “You ask if I like you as one would a girlfriend?” His voice was mocking, and an acidic laugh followed. “Perhaps you should ask me instead if I shall ever allow you to leave me. As far as it concerns me, you will never go anywhere I am not. Are we clear yet?”

“I would never want to ruin you, Jareth,” Elizabet said as a flush of pleasure went through her. He liked her—a great deal. And even though his tone was rough, she knew he was indignant because she just could not keep her mouth shut. She had to ruin things with her incessant questions. She lowered her voice as his expression became less cynical. “Why didn’t you kiss me, then? When the priest said we were married? It’s what the groom usually does after the vows. Kiss the bride.”

His eyes searched her face; she examined their ice blue depths even as their corners crinkled with good humor. Whatever he saw was enough to diffuse the strained situation. Another good thing about Jareth was his ability to switch gears as quickly as she did. It was a fleece that they shared one thing in common, even if it was a deficit in attention. She would take it. “You brought all of this on because I did not kiss you after our vows? You dismissed all that passed between us in the past over a tradition of man?”

She wrinkled her nose again and nodded. Jareth reached out for her with both hands. This time they caught her waist and he pulled her against him. Her neck flexed backward to peer up at him from such a close distance. “Too many people were watching.”

It was such a simple answer that Elizabet laughed, the sound misplaced in a dying, darkening forest. “So, this.” Her eyes trailed down his face, his neck, and to his chest—at the close proximity they shared. “Is this the
clear
you talk about? I’m afraid you’ll need to be brutally explicit with me or I’ll mess things up with questions.”

“You talk too much,” he said as his lips touched hers. His touch was feather light and timid. “Is this what you wanted?” he murmured against her lips.

“Yes,” she said. He slanted his head and pulled her body closer. She rose to her toes to give him better leverage. “This makes us clear. We are clear.” She was babbling, but did not care.

“I despise traditions,” he said. “You have reduced me to following after something I abhor.”

A laugh caught in her throat. He was kissing the bride and it was lovely. Who cared if it was tradition? His lips were on hers and it was life changing. “I don’t want you to do something you hate.”

“Shhh,” he hushed, and kissed the corner of her mouth.

“I can’t help myself,” she breathed, clutching him tighter. She let out a strangled sigh when he dipped to kiss the side of her neck. “My mouth is so inappropriate. It never knows when to shut up.”

Their stance was awkward due to their height difference; his body was folded nearly in half. “Now would be an excellent time for a muzzle,” he murmured.

Elizabet opened her mouth to deliver the proper parry, but then his mouth was on hers again; silencing her when she could not manage it herself. His arm came around her and he scooped her body to his. He lifted her from the ground, making her his equal height; his hold was firm, as if he wanted to weld them together. When his lips slid over hers with assuredly, she was lost.

This time there were no words. Her brain failed her. It went black—short circuited by a kiss that was whimsical and sensual at the same time. He was everywhere, stealing breath from the air around them. Elizabet was sure that if he was not holding her up, she would melt at his feet.

“Your majesty,” Minh called from the forest’s edge, “I think we are being followed.”

She yanked her lips from his, startled by the intrusion and the intensity of the kiss. Jareth placed his cheek against hers. Their breaths mingled between them in puffs of chilled air. Wherever he held her, it was hot and alive.

“Hush,” he whispered into her hair as she fought to put space between them. “Shh, stop. We did nothing wrong.” His arms came around her; his hands resting on the small of her back as she slid down his body to the ground. His hand traced her back as he soothed her to still. The beating of his heart was erratic against her cheek.

Elizabet nodded against his shirt. She would do anything he asked if only he promised to kiss her again. And again. For once, she had nothing to say. If she tried to speak, she was afraid it would come out as something unintelligible.

“Jareth,” Gabriel called, his voice rough with aggravation. He sounded farther away than Minh. “They’re flying your brother’s flag.”

Jareth growled and then kissed the side of Elizabet’s face near her eye. “You may prove to be the worst kind of obsession,” he said.

Elizabet leaned into him. “I might need you to do that again. To be sure you did it right.”

“I
love
your mouth.” His full lips twisted ruefully. “I have wanted to touch it since the first time I saw you.” His right hand came between them and he ran his fingertips over her lips. “To be able to touch you like this is . . . sublime.”

She smiled. “Sublime? I like that. Will you kiss me again? I’m not sure I like it yet.”

Jareth’s smile was brilliant. “Me, neither.”

Elizabet balled her hand and struck his chest, but his gaze bounced to where Gabriel and Minh approached. The pair had parted the trees to enter their private haven. They were becoming impatient. He turned Elizabet until he sheltered her with his body.

“It’s a lookout rider. They are searching for something or someone,” Gabriel stated as he came through the copse. He spoke loudly, letting his voice announce him before he came into view.

“Then let us have a look,” Jareth said, his breath on Elizabet’s face. He gripped her arms, but did not release her. Gabriel and Minh stood a good distance away from them, looking embarrassed that they had interrupted.

Minh cleared his throat. “Yeah . . . I . . . uuuhhhh. . . . .have a pair of binoculars.” He fidgeted with the satchel that he wore over his shoulder.

Elizabet pulled away from Jareth. “You said we couldn’t take anything modern.” Her hand snapped toward Minh as she peered up at Jareth. She let her expression demand he fight for her honor.

“He has his iPhone,” Gabriel gibed. “You brought along a pistol.” Elizabet whipped her head around. “A weapon, I should point out, that you hid from us. Don’t get your panties all twisted over a pair of binoculars.”

“There will be no talk of the duchess’s panties,” Jareth warned, but a smile tugged at the corner of this mouth. He peered down at her as she glanced up at him with eyes narrowed. “We need binoculars,” he said. He bent to place a kiss on her forehead before he released her.

“We needed the pistol too,” she mumbled. “They fussed at me for having a watch. I didn’t tell you about that; I just remembered.”

“It is nothing to get your knickers all twisted over,” he said in a low voice, and pulled way before she could strike him.

“I’m not done with you yet.” She grabbed his arm as he turned away to follow Minh.

Jareth looked back over his shoulder. “I will never be done with you, but duty calls.” The corner of his mouth curled. “So be a good girl and say what you must before Gabriel gets
his
knickers twisted.”

Elizabet stepped closer. “You either?” She motioned between them. “What did you mean by that:
me either?
I’m just throwing this out there, but that was my first time . . . you know.” A strangling noise came from her throat as she struggled for courage.

Thankfully, Jareth put her out of her misery. His stance shifted; his smile was crooked. “I lied. I liked it very much.” He leaned down toward her a fraction and murmured, “Too much.”

JARETH LOWERED THE
binoculars. “It is Gyula,”

He was sandwiched between Gabriel and Minh, all on their bellies, overlooking the valley where the lone rider allowed his horse a drink in the stream. Gyula was not watchful. He radiated confidence, and this bothered Jareth.

Minh took the binoculars from Jareth and leaned forward for a better look now that the man had been identified. “Do you want me to kill him?”

“God, Minh,” Gabriel said. “Do you always want to kill someone?”

“Third commandment,” Jareth said, looking at Gabriel with a frown. “Mind it or say nothing at all.”

Gabriel nodded and appeared remorseful, but only slightly so. Minh looked smug. “What’s the matter? Scared to dirty your Calvin Klein tighty whities?” He spit on the ground, his upper lip curling. “You’re bloody lucky I had your back in Torquay. Weren’t saying too much about my killing back there.”

“That was battle,” Gabriel replied. He reached over and snatched the binoculars. “This is a man giving his horse a drink.”

“He’s armed,” Minh pointed out. “He’s got a cross bow—a modern one—three blades, and I think I see a rifle under the saddle.”

“It’s a Smith and Wesson,” Gabriel said with a touch of awe in his voice. He adjusted the lenses for better clarity. “Looks old, but in bloody good condition.”

“Jareth—” Minh shifted onto one elbow and turned. “He’s Hunnish in appearance. Why didn’t you tell us this? He has the look of my kin.”

Before Jareth could answer, Gyula removed a travel bracelet from his wrist and tossed it the air. The portal flashed open with a sizzling pop as it contracted to receive the traveler.

“He’s got travel gems,” Gabriel announced.

Jareth quickly lifted the fold of his cloak and pushed back the cloth to reveal his seven travel bracelets. “They are all here.” He looked at Gabriel, then Minh. “He must have stolen them.”

Gabriel held up his wrist. “Eight. Mine is from the future, so that means his does as well. If you have the original seven, you know what that means.”

“Weird alchemy,” Minh grumbled. He grabbed the binoculars from the ground where Gabriel had dropped them. “Gideon will not like this.” Gideon was the guardian assigned to study the alchemy of the travel stones. He would know how this was possible.