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“Of course not.” I rolled my eyes. “He had her killed on site. But Erick brought her back with a kiss and—well, you probably don’t care about all that. The fact remains, regardless of your roots, you still do not scare me away. If that was your intent.”
“Aye,” he murmured softly, his stare delving into mine as if seeking every truth inside me. “It was.”
I blinked, surprised he was so willing to admit it. “But why? Why try to sabotage what we could have?”
“Because beautiful, spunky women don’t just go around pledging their undying devotion to me, that’s why, my lady.” Lifting his arms, he glanced around the forest and let out a harsh laugh. “None of this makes sense. You were supposed to be some spoiled, high-brow princess who cared for nothing but herself and resisted every mile we rode in chains. And I…” His chest heaved as he sucked in a tortured breath. “I wasn’t supposed to like you so fucking much.” Wiping a hand over his face, he cursed to himself. “I keep expecting to turn around and learn this was all just some huge, elaborate lark to test me. Like my father set it all up, just to—”
“Your father?” I blurted, really confused now.
“Dammit,” he breathed on a wince and briefly squeezed his eyes shut before opening them again to send me a leery look.
“You actually know who your father is?” I wouldn’t have thought a woman who worked in a brothel would know who sired any babe she might bear.
Farrow’s eyes flared a moment before he gave a reluctant nod and dropped his gaze. “He paid for exclusive rights to her for an inordinate amount of time. I was conceived in that range, so there was never any question of who he was.”
“But why would he test you—”
“Because he’s an asshole,” Farrow fumed. “A wealthy, soulless monster who only knows how to hurt and ruin. He never cared a whit for my mother, leaving her to grow ill and rot in that—” Hissing out his rage, he panted a moment before, saying. “And I’m done with it. Done with him. I’m completely finished with his mad, destructive antics.”
Understanding why this must be difficult for him to discuss, I concluded, “So he’s no longer around, waiting at your mother’s bedside for you to return with her cure? There’s only Sable there to nurse her until you return?”
“Sable?” He seemed momentarily puzzled by my questions, squinting as if trying to make sense of them, but then he bobbed his head slowly and cleared his throat, glancing away as he answered, “No, he’s not with her now. My father isn’t—he’s not a nice man.” The words seemed to choke him as he turned to me, his eyes gleaming with an eerie light as if he needed me to understand more.
My heart broke. “Is this why you’ve refused to lie with me? Because you’re worried about me discovering your parentage?”
His throat worked as he swallowed. Then his eyes seemed to cloud with shadows. “No,” he said.
“Then, why? I know you want me. Sometimes, I swear it’s your arousal, not my own, coursing through my blood. And the way you always react to my touch…” I reached for him, running my hand down his chest.
With a shuddering groan, he reared back and sent me a harsh, warning look. Holding up a finger, he bunched his jaw but said nothing. Then he sighed and shook his head. “It wouldn’t be fair to take you.” His voice was rough and full of regret. “You don’t know everything.”
“Then tell me,” I urged. “Tell me whatever it is I need to know to make this okay for you. Because I crave to know the feel of your hands on me like I’ve never craved anything.” Burying my fingers between my legs, I made the skirt of my dress gather awkwardly as I pressed in against myself. “Sometimes I ache here so much that it throbs, longing for you to put your—”
“Dammit, Nicolette.” Winded, Farrow jerked to his feet and backed away. “Don’t talk that way.”
“Why? I know you feel it too. You want me. Aren’t you even—” Then I gasped as an idea struck me. Fisting a hand against the base of my throat, I croaked, “Oh God. You’re already with someone. Aren’t you? You’ve a wife.”
He blinked at me, his eyes glittering hard as if tempted to say one thing, but then he grimaced. “No,” he said, turning away. “No wife. I’ve no one. I just—” Blowing out a lungful, he ran a hand through his hair before whirling back to me, appearing harassed. “Please, Nicolette. Just wait. Wait until we reach Blayton. And then…” He winced but nodded. “If you still want me after that, it would be my great honor to be with you in any way you wished. But not now.” He glanced around the trees. “Not here.”
I watched him for a moment, wondering what he wasn’t telling me, why he seemed so conflicted and yet sad as if he knew we would never reach Blayton at all.
But I had faith in the mark. I had faith in him. This man was my perfect match.
Everything would turn out fine.
So I reached out and touched his arm. “Okay,” I promised. “I’ll wait.” Then my grin bloomed. “I’ve already waited five years for you. What’s a few more days, right?”
He seemed vaguely conflicted by that comment. His eyes watered as if in pain, but then he swiped the moisture away and offered me a smile. “Right,” he whispered.
I nodded too, trying to reassure him and instill some of my own trust into his bloodstream with my return smile. Then I turned my face to the side so he could see the side that held my mark. “So? How does it look?”
He studied me a moment before cracking his own reluctant smirk. “Like you have a piece of hair stuck to your face.”
I started to lift my hand, instinctively needing to unstick it, even though I logically knew no hair was there, but Farrow caught my arm. “Careful; you’ll smear it,” he warned softly. “Give it a moment to dry.”
Then he did the unthinkable. He leaned close and softly blew on my mark to help the concealer dry faster.
“Oh God,” I moaned, my eyes rolling up into my head at the unbearably erotic contact. His lips were still pursed from blowing as he pulled away. It made my nipples immediately pearl and my womb contract. “I think I just came.”
