The Guardian (Chronicles of Dover's Amalgam Book 1) (21 page)

Elizabet’s mouth dropped open. “No.” Jareth allowed his lips to twist into a doubtful expression. She blushed. “Okay. Maybe a little. You did go on and on about me being your duchess.”

“That is something Catherine could never attain. She is mean spirited and intolerant. I once saw her have a small child beaten because he soiled her dress. She felt the child was old enough to hold its functions and that he did it apurpose.”

“Is she pretty?”

“I tell you she had a child beaten and you want to know if she is pretty?” Jareth lifted his gaze to the gray sky’s receding darkness. “God, spare me from the emotional baggage of women.” He shook his head and smiled ruefully. “You have me, Elizabet.” He unwrapped one of her arms and grasped her hand to lay it over his chest where his heart beat. “If I say that you are mine, then I am yours.”

Elizabet’s eyes widened. She resembled a sodden doll with her hair hanging in limp ringlets around her face, pressed to her head like glove. “Does that mean I’ve saved you by marrying you?” Her expression became was mockingly stern. “It is, after all, why I did it. To save your life.”

“Consider me saved,” Jareth murmured in a lazy tone. His eyes traveled the length of her wet attire. He wanted to say more, but someone approached. He looked over his shoulder to see Minh walking their way. He began talking while still a good way off.

“All we can find is a pair of old oxen and an apple cart.” Jareth had her partially hidden by a large tree, and when Minh noticed they were huddled together he stopped short. “I can continue to search if you like. Gabriel said all of the horses are gone from the stables.”

“James evacuated his family and most of his staff when the storm began,” Jareth said. His smile for Elizabet was lopsided before turned to Minh. Then, his voice became all business. All the while, he kept his eye on Elizabet and took in the details of her face he had missed before. She had a small scar on her left brow. It was white and her hair did not grow over it. “It would be fruitless to search. I am sure there are no horses. The few that remained were taken by the soldiers who fled after their leader fell.”

“Should I ride ahead?” Minh asked. “We still have the two horses that we brought down from Kent? I can ride out and track them. Kill them before they make it to their destination.”

“That will not be necessary,” Jareth replied. He faced Minh, turning Elizabet with him under his cloak. He brought his hands to her shoulders. “We shall use the cart for the wounded and others. Elizabet may ride with me.”

“I’m not sharing a mount with Gabriel,” Minh felt necessary to point out. He shifted his weight.

“One of you will be needed to man the cart and oxen. I do not care which, but see that you do not behave like little girls while casting the lot,” Jareth said.

“Gabriel’s manning the cart,” Minh grumbled. “And I’m telling him you said so.”

“I’ll go see if I can help,” Elizabet said. She wiggled out of the cloak and away from him.

He caught her arm. “I am yet finished with you, wife.”

Elizabet looked at where his hand was wrapped around her arm. She shook her limb, and glanced at Minh with a flush on her face. “Later.”

Jareth reeled her body in to his with a simple hinge of his elbow. Her feet skipped until one of her feet rested on one of his. She toppled against him; her head bent back to look up at him. “Do not walk away before we can speak of what happened,” Jareth whispered. His expression became somber as he shook her a little. “You shot people. I know this was a first for you. How are you faring?”

“How do I feel?” Her eyes bugged. “You’re not about to get all mind quack on me—are you?”

Jareth understood the time was not right to discuss something sensitive. He discerned she was discomfited by the changes he exhibited, but he knew of no other way to carry on. They were married. Things between them had to convert to a relationship with intimacy. “All right, no, but tell me this. Where did you learn to handle a weapon?”

“The farm,” she answered without hesitation. “I shoot snakes. There’s nothing I hate more than a snake. Except maybe rats now.” Her brows rose and her expression turned impatient. Her eye roved in Minh’s direction. “Can I go now? Please?”

Jareth glimpsed Minh and let his expression become annoyed. He flicked his wrist to dismiss her, and then turned to Minh. Elizabet marched off with her eyes lowered to her feet. She knocked Minh’s shoulder as she passed. Surely it was accidental, but she did not bother to apologize. Minh was grinning too wide to seem to care.

“What?” Jareth demanded when Minh turned his grin on him. “Have a care. I am still angry for having to kill people today. I am obviously unhinged. Do not tempt me.”

Minh smile widened. “You called her wife. That’s adorable.”

“We shall stop at the next abbey and make it official. I know the priest in Portsmouth. He will serve as rector and marry us.”

Minh’s grin turned lecherous. “And so it begins.”

“So it does,” Jareth said. He leveled a stare on his friend that dared to be questioned. “I want her.” The bald statement hung between them like a gauntlet. There it was. He was now a man entangled in a romantic web and he had no way out. Instead, he was willing to succumb to the natural way of things. Truthfully, he was happy to be buried in it. Elizabet was proving to be a vital asset, despite her sassy mouth.

“What if the priest squeals?” Minh asked. “You know we are being tracked.”

“Then I shall run him through with my sword after the registry is signed. We shall keep the certificate of marriage and smite the date. Burn the license you obtained from Ephraim. I want the marriage to be traceable. No one will question the authenticity of the union.” His voice lowered an octave, became softer. “There will be children from our union and I want them to be sired legitimately.”

Minh saluted. “Yes, your grace. But by all legal means—she is your wife. I made sure of that. Stopping in Portsmouth isn’t necessary.”

“
I
will know that it is not final. She must consent. I have to hear it from her own lips that she will have me. Only then can I take what is mine. It must be consensual. I think even Elizabet will agree to this. There must be some kind of closure to it. The reality of what has been done must be tangible for her.”

“And then you will kill the priest—just in case he talks.”

“Precisely,” Jareth said. He pushed past Minh and strode to the cart. He was already trailing after Elizabet like a puppy. He scowled at his thoughts, but pressed on. He could see her arguing with Gabriel about how to load an oxen cart. Thirty paces and he would be by her side again.

IT WAS A
tight ride with Quill and three of Dover’s wounded knights in a cart built to haul vegetables to market. Gabriel brooded while Minh smoked and whistled. The tension in the group was palatable. All were on alert. Jareth brought up the rear with Elizabet tucked under his cloak as night fell and their clothes remained damp. It bothered him that he was last when he should be first—a target for anyone they might meet along the path. But Elizabet’s protection was paramount to his existence now. It was his responsibility to keep her safe.

Minh sidled up to the oxen pulling the cart. “How long to Portsmouth?” he asked Gabriel.

“Do I look like I have GPS?” Gabriel sniped without glancing at Minh.

“No need to get nasty about—”

Gabriel shushed him by thrusting his finger straight ahead the path. He used sign language to warn everyone an impending guest was about to arrive. He flicked the reigns, but the oxen kept their same lumbering pace. “Who goes there?”

Minh
tsked
at Gabriel. “You sound like a bad movie extra. Where’s your French?”

“Put out your cigarette and say that to my face,” Gabriel dared. He yanked hard on the reigns, but the stubborn animals merely fought the command and kept at their snail pace. A low growl came from his throat. “I swear we will eat ox flesh before the morning light.”

“You shall spook them. Be gentle,” Minh scolded. He reached over and patted the great head of one of the creatures. A horn nearly impaled his forearm. He jerked back, scoffed, and flicked his cigarette. “Beast.”

“Who goes there?” Gabriel said again, louder.

“Minh, Gabriel? Is that you?” It was a male voice. He flailed his arms over his head. “It’s Jeremy. Don’t you dare think of throwing that spear, Gabriel.”

Minh stood in his stirrups, his eyes narrowing. The moon was half full, so it provided a faint glow to the forest around them.

Gabriel’s hand paused on the spear he had been reaching for over his shoulder. He made eye contact with Jareth behind him. Jareth nodded his assent and helped Elizabet off the horse.

“Go into the cart,” he said softly to her. She looked up at him with fear in her eyes, but he squeezed her hand before releasing it. “It is only one person. You will be safe. Go.”

Elizabet nodded and climbed into the cart. Jareth unsheathed his sword and spurred his horse to side with Minh’s. Together, he and Minh framed the cart.

Minh pulled an arrow from his quiver and drew back the bow. “I’m getting chills imagining ten years into the future when host can mimic each other.”

“No!” the boy called, and flailed his arms frantically. He was close enough now that they made a visual and recognized him. “It’s really me! Don’t draw your weapons!”

Gabriel balanced the spear on his shoulder.

Minh frowned and lowered his bow. “He must have dissipated in this area and is waiting for a guardian to fetch him,” he said to Jareth. “He’ll need assistance. Depending on who has been dispatched to come and get him, it might be a while.”

Jareth glanced into the cart. He could see his wife’s eyes rounded and terrified staring back at him. He faced Minh and his chin jerked slightly toward the approaching host. “All right,” he said. He looked at Gabriel. “Keep the men occupied while we deal with the host.”

Gabriel grumbled something about being a glorified babysitter under his breath. Jareth chose to ignore him.

“Who’s coming for you?” Minh asked. His voice rose as he swung off his horse. He loosened the frogs of his cloak. The boy was naked, as most host were after they dissipated.

“Gabriel.” Jeremy’s teeth chattered between syllables. Minh tossed the cloak to him. He grasped it mid-air and donned it. “It’s freaking cold! I hate England’s dreary weather for this reason. I can’t get my heat back up.”

“Perhaps you should lower your voice, young master,” Minh advised. His teeth flashed in a sardonic smile. He pointedly eyed the cart full of Dover’s men who were observing the nudist inquisitively. “Have a care to the information you leak by mere conversation.”

Jeremy’s gaze flicked to the cart and he nodded. He bowed at the waist when he saw Elizabet. He turned in a circle, saw Jareth and performed a deeper bow. “Your majesties. Forgive me. I did not notice you. You are traveling in an unmarked legion. I see no flag.”

“Minh,” Jareth said, and tipped his head to the clearing of the forest. “You should be able to find dry wood for a small fire. Let us get him refueled.” He glanced at Elizabet. “I do not want to be in forbidden territory with a weak host.”

“I’ll take this cart apart if I have to,” Minh said, and darted into the forest in search of firewood.

Elizabet jumped out of the cart. Gabriel followed suit. He watched her with guarded silence as she passed the cart and stood between Jareth’s horse and Jeremy. Her eyes were glued on Jeremy, who grinned at her as she approached on light feet.

She had just left a nine-year-old Jeremiah Cameron back home. This version of Jeremy was all grown up.

“Jeremy?” Elizabet asked. She pressed her fingertips to her lips as if she had just said something false. She went to reach for him, but then pulled her hand away and pressed it to her mouth again.

“Your grace,” Jeremy said, his words strained because his smile was so large. His blue lips wobbled as Jareth came to stand next to Elizabet. “
Magister
.” He bowed slightly again. “You look so young. I can’t wait to tell—”

“What year do you hail?” Jareth asked. His hand came to rest on Elizabet’s shoulder.

“I’m seventeen,” Jeremy answered. He lifted his shoulders and let them fall. “I traveled eight years back, I think.”

“You were nine yesterday,” Elizabet said. She flinched as she shook her shoulder to dislodge Jareth’s hand. “And your voice—”

“Is British,” Jeremy finished her sentence. “Sort of freaky when you first hear it, eh?”

Elizabet nodded vaguely. Her nose wrinkled as she smelled the air. The faint odors of salt water and tropic humidity hung around them.

“Forgive me, then,” Jeremy said. “I’ve been rude. These things can be nerve-wracking, not knowing whether you’re coming or going; who’s still alive and on our side. When I saw you both, I should have realized.” He shrugged. “It’s dark. That’s my only excuse.”

“You speak so well,” Elizabet said. Jareth placed his hand back on her shoulder to stay her as she stepped forward, but she shook him off again. “And you look different. Not just grown up, but . . .” She reached out to touch him, but halted midair and retreated. “The boy I know can barely string a sentence together without looking away, tripping over his words.”

“I most certainly can now.” Jeremy gazed straight into her eyes to prove his point. “And it feels bloody good.” He looked at Jareth over her head. There was a level of anger in his gaze. “I won’t hurt her, you know. I can feel it all over you. And I hear you, too. You’re scared I’ll hurt her.” When Jareth balked, Jeremy went on. “You can let her close. I’m in control. I swear it. I’d never hurt Elizabet. Never.”

“Perhaps she may be afraid of you,” Jareth said.

“I’m not,” Elizabet insisted, heat in her voice. She glanced at Jareth. “I’m not afraid of Jeremy even if he is a hurricane.”

Jareth narrowed his eyes in warning. “Elizabet.”

“Fire’s low, but started.” Minh appeared from the copse. “I think you can recharge from it, if you want to give it go.” He beckoned to Jeremy.

“Excuse me,” Jeremy murmured, and bowed again. “I must tend to my nature.” He looked at Elizabet. “We should talk later.” Jareth stepped between them. “Or maybe not.”