Page 66 of One True Love (Love Mark 1)

Shaking my head, I decided he would never understand that sentiment, and instead I said, “You must know he and I never—”

“And you never will, either,” Soren snarled, grabbing my chin and making me gasp when his fingers bared down hard on flesh and bone. “Just so you’re aware, I spoke with Caulder, who granted me my wish. If you and the High Cliff prince are ever found cuckolding me, he’ll be beheaded within the day and you’ll be exiled from the castle, leaving the babe here…with me. Cross me, Vienne, and you’ll never be allowed to see my child again.”

My lips parted in horror as I gaped up at him and tugged Anniston protectively closer. “You wouldn’t.”

His malicious smile grew. “The king’s already granted his approval.”

When he let go of me, I looked down at my baby, and my heart knocked heavily against my chest. Prince Urban’s head was safe on his shoulders, because I knew I could stay away from him. But to learn that Soren could so easily convince Caulder to take Anniston from me…it made a deep fear unfurl. What other things could my husband control me into doing by simply threatening to take her away?

“You know I’ll stay away from him,” I murmured softly, despising him more in that moment than I’d ever despised anyone.

He could make me do anything he wanted by holding Anniston over my head.

I was truly trapped.

Chapter 20

Vienne

The strange dreams I’d started having came nightly now.

At first, they were simply flashes of scenes, places I’d never been, doing things I’d never done. I stood at a cliff top once, staring out at a violent sea, though instead of being unnerved by the ferocious view, the sight of white-frothed waves crashing against the rocky surf below calmed me. In the dream, it felt as if I were home.

Then I was fishing, hollering with delight when I jerked my wriggling catch from the water. I wielded a sword in other dreams. Sometimes, it was just for fun, training, I guess. Other times, the fight was real. My adrenaline would race as I slew an enemy only to turn and save one of my men from being run through. It was all so very perplexing. I’d never even seen a war, much less been in one. And I doubted I’d know how to properly hold a sword if anyone had the insanity to hand me a blade.

There were people too—complete strangers—I encountered in these dreams. One was a strict, old king, or at least I assumed he was a king. He sat on a throne with a crown wreathing his bald head. His beard was thick and craggy with streaks of white in the dark strands. He glared at me, telling me how worthless I was, that I only caused death and destruction, and then he cast me from his army. It always felt as if my heart were shattering when he repeated those words to me, dream after dream.

But the most painful dream was the one I had the most, the one of the dying soldier. I would grip him helplessly in my hands, begging him not to die, crying my sorrow into his lap as blood bubbled from his lips, just as the light in his eyes dimmed. It happened that way, every time, with no change. And I would wake with tears on my cheeks. I didn’t even know the man, yet it would feel as if a part of me died with him, every time.

I was almost leery to fall asleep anymore. But Anniston had been unsettled most of the day before Brentley and Allera’s second attempt at a wedding. When she finally fell asleep that night, I found myself lying down in my own bed, worn to the bone.

I was out within minutes.

Thankfully, I wasn’t disturbed by another one of my unusual war dreams. But it felt as if I’d barely closed my eyes when something woke me again.

I stirred on my bed and sat up, glancing toward the crib situated only a few feet away. After crawling off my mattress, I checked on Anniston, but she was sleeping peacefully with her little hands fisted by her face. The sensation that something had woken me on purpose remained, so I glanced around the room, searching the corners, except I was completely alone in my bedchamber.

I went to the door and opened it without even thinking, not experiencing a single worry that something dangerous may be afoot.

The man lingering outside my door as he rested a shoulder against the opposite wall slowly lifted his face.

I gasped and took a step back. The prince of High Cliff straightened from the wall, and for some reason, the agony in his expression had me stepping into the hall and closing the door behind me.

“What’re you doing here?”

It didn’t occur to me that I wore nothing but a thin night shift until his gaze ran slowly, boldly down my body. When I hugged my arms self-consciously to my chest, he lifted his attention to my face.

“You told Allera you wanted me to stay away from you,” he said. His voice was low and raspy; it sent shivers up my spine.

“I… Yes, I did.”

He stepped closer. “Well, I can’t.”

The look in his eyes was intense, predatory. I thought this should frighten me, yet it didn’t. A deep yearning ripened inside me, starting with a pulse of power between my legs, then a tingling in my breasts.

I looked up at him, swallowing, as he searched the features of my face with his gaze. “I’ve never seen your hair down before,” he said, reaching out slowly to grasp a single strand between his fingers. “It’s beautiful.”

I could only watch as he studied my hair in awe, then return his gaze to mine.

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