Page 48 of Married By Treachery

Raquel thought of her own mother and father before her mother had died. They had loved one another very much, and her death had nearly destroyed her father. In many ways, it had. “What a sad marriage,” she said.

“It is a contract to secure peace—nothing more. Certainly,my bridecan relate.” Jake threw a pointed look at her over his saddle, and Raquel decided she also didn’t like his assessment of marriage.

He returned his attention to Vizzi. “And anyway, howsadcan it be? My mother is the queen of Canna, and she has access to every provision this kingdom has to offer. Your mortal ideals of love could never make such claim.”

Raquel thought of her parents’ love again and also her dream. “I would take a simple life with a love that could move mountains over an empty marriage with all the riches and power in the world.”

Jake looked at her. It was the first time he hadreallylooked at her since he’d woken her this morning, and Raquel’s cheeks warmed from the pure intensity of it. “You are such a contradiction,” he said at last.

That heat crept down her neck. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

He stepped around Vizzi and stopped before her—rightbefore her. As close as he could possibly be without actually touching her, and she felt every inch of space between them. “You speak of love that moves mountains, and yet you tried to murder your betrothed in his sleep,” he said lowly, his words a brush of warmth against her lips, but before Raquel could find her voice, Jake held out a hand and said, with a triumphant twist of his lips, “Left leg.”

Raquel gasped in outrage.

“Come now,” Jake said. “I don’t fancy getting stabbed while we ride today.”

Raquel grumbled as she lifted the left side of her skirts and unhooked the blade there. Jake’s eyes were on hers the entire time, but she didn’t shy away. No, she stared right back, as if parrying his blade in this new unspoken battle between them—a war of motivation and opposing desire—and she set the dagger into his open palm with gusto, then let her skirts slowly slide back into position.

His brow raised as he palmed the dagger then leaned in close, his mouth at her ear. “And the one in your corset,” he whispered so softly.

Raquel’s her heart pounded, and she felt simultaneously furious and undone from his proximity. Still, she did not shy away as she reached behind herself and slid the slender file from a rib in her corset and set it in his open palm.

“Satisfied, my prince?” she said, her voice a breath.

He lingered there, his mouth still at her ear. “Almost.” His voice was velvet, and a hundred butterflies fluttered inside of her. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind…” He gestured at the saddle with her blade. When she didn’t move, he added, “Or I shall be forced to pick you up and toss…”

Raquel gathered her skirts and climbed into the saddle. Well, truthfully, she was so flustered that she missed her footing and fellagainstthe saddle. Jake started to reach for her, but she resolutely grabbed the horn and pulled herself up, shoving him back a little as she did.

Jake chuckled again, climbed on after, slid one arm around her waist, and pulled her back to his chest.

Raquel told herself it wasn’t the most glorious feeling in the world.

“If we’re not there by midday, head back to Little Mignon,” Jake said to Sienne, who nodded, though her gaze narrowed on them as Jake nudged Vizzi onward, into the mist.

15

Try as she might, Raquel could not shake her dreams. It didn’t help that she shared a saddle with Jake, who kept one arm secured around her waist, his hard chest pressed to her back. Her mind kept reverting to those moments in the dream woods, the way he’d kissed her, and the look in his eyes when he’d saidI love you.

Those three little words taunted her with every mile, teasing her with beautiful possibility while her rational self struggled to hold fast to reality. Jake didn’t have a heart. He couldnotlove. He was only “courting” her because his curse demanded he lay claim to her affections. Not at all from his own volition. It really was just a game for him—shewas a game, one he needed to win.

The problem was that a large and quickly growing part of herwantedhim to win. It wanted him to court her as Dream Jake would have done, and it persisted that his motivation was more than just this game. That he actually felt something for her beyond triumph.

But soon after they left the others, Jake fell back into silence, and the sound of Vizzi’s gallop served as their only conversation. It rumbled like Raquel’s heart, these erratic beats and pounding rhythms, full of questions and yearnings she could neither allay nor understand.

Until she could no longer bear it.

And when Jake slowed Vizzi to a walk, Raquel said, “Is there something wrong, Highness?”

She swayed with him in the saddle.

“I don’t know, is there?” His tone teased, but a brusque undercurrent clipped his words.

Raquel stole a glance back at him. His shrewd gaze fixed immutably ahead, his kith features as sharp as steel. He was all purpose, all drive and fierce determination—a man riding hard for the attainment of his goal.

“You’re uncharacteristically quiet,” Raquel said.

“I’m focused on the path ahead. In case you hadn’t noticed, it’s just you and me”—Vizzi snorted, and Jake patted Vizzi’s haunches—“and dear old Vizzi; of course I would never forget you, boy…but I would prefer wenotbe caught unaware by a horde of Depraved. Stubborn as you are, my bride, not even you would survive another infection.”

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