“You little hussy,” he growled as he got close. “You’ll pay for that.”
He raised his arm. Jocelyn, held by many captors, was powerless to evade his hand as he dealt her a ringing slap to her face. Her head snapped to the side. There was a tinny sound in her ears, but she was sure she could hear hoof beats somewhere behind it. All of a sudden, cries of terror went up all around her, and she found herself released as the men fled. She looked around, dazed, for the one who had slapped her, and stumbled back a step at the sight of his lifeless body stretched before her on the ground, an arrow through the heart.
She turned as if in a dream toward the hoof beats that were now upon her. She braced herself for the awkward explanations Prince Ormond was sure to require, but the sight before her shocked her out of all thought of speech.
Because it wasn’t Prince Ormond who was leading the knights, dressed in Valoria’s royal purple and silver. It wasn’t Prince Ormond who was stowing his bow and unsheathing his sword in one fluid motion, the wrath of an avenging god on his face.
It was Kincaid.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
“Pursue them,” Kincaid ordered curtly.
The knights behind him urged their mounts forward to chase down the fleeing men, with the exception of two who flanked their leader as he dismounted.
Kincaid reached Jocelyn in three quick strides. She could only stare at him as he cut her bonds efficiently with his sword, then ripped the gag from her mouth.
“Are you all right, Your Highness?” he asked tightly, his eyes scanning her body for signs of injury.
She just blinked. None of her training in poise and etiquette could prevent her from gaping open-mouthed.
“Your Highness?” interrupted one of the knights who had stayed. Jocelyn looked up at him, but he was clearly speaking to Kincaid. Her head swam, and for a moment she was unsure of her balance. “Would you like us to—”
“Secure the farmhouse, then go and assist the others,” Kincaid interrupted curtly, his steadying hand grasping Jocelyn’s arm as she swayed. “There is no threat to me. I will take Princess Jocelyn to the building to rest, and we will await the knights there.”
“Very good, Your Highness.”
The two knights spurred their horses toward the farmhouse. Kincaid and Jocelyn stood, not speaking, his hand still supporting her arm, while the men searched the building. When they announced it empty and secure, Kincaid dismissed them with a curt nod, and they remounted, taking off after the rest of the group.
Kincaid didn’t speak a word, just led Jocelyn firmly toward the small building. She stumbled several times, sore and weary beyond belief, but his strong hand kept her from falling.
She felt like she was in a dream, confronted with this stern, unfamiliar Kincaid who had still not looked her in the eye. Could he really be a prince? The men had called him Your Highness, but she still wasn’t sure she could believe it. Had she fallen asleep in the cellar, into a very strange, very realistic dream?
But the moment they passed through the doors into the farmhouse, away from any observing eyes, Kincaid’s stiffness fell away. The door had barely closed behind them when he pulled her into his arms, drawing a deep shuddering breath.
“Jocelyn,” he choked out. “Jocelyn, my darling. Tell me you’re all right.”
She melted against him, not caring about the ache in her muscles awoken by the tightness of his arms around her. She let out a strangled sob of joy and relief, and buried her face in his chest.
“Jocelyn,” he said again, his voice a whisper. “I was so afraid we’d be too late. When that…that animal slapped you…” He growled. “That death was too good for him.” He drew back, looking intently into her eyes. “Are you really all right? Where’s Lord Randall? What happened?”
“Slow down,” said Jocelyn faintly, extending a hand to stop his flow of words. She didn’t know if it was relief or fatigue, but she could barely stay on her feet.
Kincaid let out a sudden hiss, distracted from the conversation as he caught her hand in his. “What happened?” His eyes darkened. “What did they do to you?”
Jocelyn followed his gaze and grimaced. Her wrists were red and raw from the bindings, and the bandages had been pulled partially off her hands. The still-healing burns were clearly visible on her palms, and they stung even under Kincaid’s gentle touch.
“They bound my wrists,” she said matter-of-factly, “but the burns were my own doing.”
“What do you mean?” Kincaid frowned.
“We can talk about that later,” Jocelyn said sternly. “I think you have some explaining to do first, Your Highness.”
“Oh.” Kincaid looked sheepish. “That.”
“Yes, that,” said Jocelyn, taking a step back from him. “Kincaid, are you really a prince?”
He sighed. “Yes.”
“Of Valoria?”
“Yes, obviously.”
Jocelyn spread her hands out in appeal. “Why would you keep that from me?”
“You hid your identity in Montego,” said Kincaid quickly, but his sheepish expression returned as Jocelyn raised an eyebrow. “I know, I should have told you later, once you admitted who you were. But the longer I went, the more impossible it seemed to bring it up. Besides, I liked being just Kincaid. I doubt you would have said or done half the things you did if you’d known who I was.”
Jocelyn sighed, thinking of her nerves about impressing the Valorian royal family. “You’re probably right.”
“Did you really not know?”
“Of course I didn’t!” protested Jocelyn. “I had no idea.”
“Huh.” Kincaid looked faintly amused. “Sometimes I wondered if you were just playing along. You really didn’t know there’s a second son in my family? A prince called Kincaid? I knew your name and your brother’s name long before we ever met.”
Jocelyn shrugged, embarrassed. “I can’t say I took much interest in Valoria before the king and queen’s—your parents’—invitation. I’m sure I’d heard the names sometime, but they didn’t stick. Besides, that’s no reason to assume you were the prince! Isn’t Kincaid a common name in Valoria?”
“It is now,” said Kincaid humorously. “For the last twenty-one years, to be precise. Doesn’t it work the same way in Kyona?”
Jocelyn smiled. “Yes, it does.” She had lost count of the number of times she had been presented with a baby or little girl named Jocelyn, with the expectation that she would be especially delighted to be the namesake of the random child. And sometimes it seemed like every second boy in the Kyonan countryside was called Eamon.
“So Ormond is your brother,” Jocelyn said slowly.
“Yes,” said Kincaid, sounding anxious. “And like I said, he’s not especially handsome, is he?”
Jocelyn just smiled, not willing to grace the question with a response.
“How were you wandering around the mountains without a care in the world, Kincaid?” she asked instead. “No wonder I didn’t guess you were a prince.”
He sighed, running a hand through his auburn hair. It was windswept, as if he had ridden hard to find her. “It was a concession,” he admitted. “An unusual one. I begged my parents to let me have one summer of freedom before I followed Ormond’s example in settling down, and they agreed in light of the circumstances.”
“What circumstances?”
He grimaced apologetically at her. “The horrifying prospect of an entire summer of mind numbing galas and formalities and speeches to honor our royal guest.”
Jocelyn tried to look offended, but she couldn’t hold the expression for long. A giggle escaped her, and Kincaid’s familiar, impossibly attractive grin resurfaced.
“You looked so astonished when I rode up. Are you telling me you still didn’t know? My family didn’t mention me when you were with them in Bryford?”
She shrugged, amused by the note of outrage in his voice. “No one mentioned you. I wasn’t there for very long, and I guess I didn’t ask.”
Jocelyn shook her head slowly, and not just because she seriously doubted anyone would consider Kincaid expendable. It was surreal to have Kincaid joking with her about how they were both the second-born in their kingdoms’ royal families.
“I just can’t get over the fact you’re a prince,” she said. “And that you didn’t tell me.”
“I truly did intend to tell you eventually,” Kincaid assured her seriously. “I was just waiting for the right moment.”
“And…” It was suddenly hard to meet his eyes. “And when I basically turned you down for not being a prince, that wasn’t the right moment?”
Kincaid took one of her hands in his again, holding it gently, palm up, so as not to touch the burns. He traced a finger along the side of her hand, not meeting her gaze.
“Maybe I should have told you then. If you had said you wanted to be with me, but you didn’t think your parents would approve of you marrying a vagabond, I would have told you in a heartbeat. But that’s not what you said. You were the one who wasn’t willing to marry me without the position.” He looked up into her eyes, his smile twisting painfully. “Can you blame me for wanting you to choose me, for my own sake?”
“No,” said Jocelyn quietly. “I don’t blame you at all.”
“Plus,” Kincaid pushed on, “I was terrified it wouldn’t be enough. I didn’t understand your absurd self-imposed martyrdom at all. For all I knew, even knowing I was a prince, you might still have considered it your duty to marry the heir.” He shuddered. “The very idea of you marrying Ormond, of seeing you at every meal, walking the same halls as you for the rest of my life, knowing you were only there because you were my brother’s wife…”
He squeezed his eyes shut. “It’s been ripping me apart, Jocelyn. I realized pretty early on that I didn’t want you to marry Ormond. But it wasn’t until that idiot Eric started fawning over you, and I found myself behaving like a jealous fool, that I realized just what flavor of hell my life would become if you did.”
Jocelyn smiled, deciding not to comment on the unjust description of Eric. “Is that why you were such a bear the whole time we were in Arinton?”
“It was mostly that,” Kincaid said. “Plus I was worried about being recognized from the moment they started talking about summoning the local lord. I got lucky that he was in Bryford at the time. He would certainly have known who I was.”
Jocelyn gave him a look. “So you were actively trying to carry on the deception.” He didn’t try to deny it, and she rolled her eyes. But she wasn’t mad, not really. She’d already forgiven him, and she had a feeling he knew it.
She reached out a tentative hand, tracing the silver embroidery on Kincaid’s purple tunic. She could still hardly believe the sight of him. He was even more devastatingly handsome in his royal attire than he had been as a wanderer. The image of him descending at the head of his knights, sword drawn and eyes blazing, was possibly the most impressive thing she had ever seen.
“You look different like this,” she said softly. She met his eyes, captured by the intensity of his gaze. “I like it.”
“You look different, too,” Kincaid said, his voice lower than before. He smiled as he looked her up and down. “You’re glorious. I like the dress.”
Jocelyn made a disbelieving noise. “I’m a mess.”
Abruptly, Kincaid put an arm around her waist, drawing her in so his cheek rested against her head, his mouth close to her ear. “You’re perfect.”
She closed her eyes, letting herself get lost for a long moment in the feel of being so near him again.
“I’m sorry I missed your birthday,” Kincaid said at last. His voice was still low and throaty, and his breath tickled her ear. “I wanted to be there.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Jocelyn smiled as she drew back to show him her arm. “I got your birthday gift.”
“You got it!” he cried joyfully, touching the bracelet with feather light fingers, to avoid her injured wrists. “I didn’t think you’d had time.”
“Kincaid, that was a very foolish thing for you to do,” she said sternly. Then her face dimpled in a smile in spite of herself. “Foolish and delightful.”
He chuckled. “I tracked it down as soon as I left the east. I didn’t have much to barter, but it turns out identifying myself was more effective than gold.” His eyes softened as he looked at her. “I kept it on me every minute, trying to think of how to win you over. I planned to give it to you in person, of course, and if I’d known you were going to be there for your birthday gala, I would have.” He rolled his eyes. “Did you know they were going to have the party even if you weren’t there yet? Ridiculous.”
Jocelyn hid a smile. Kincaid’s dislike of such events shouldn’t surprise her, but she still found it amusing.
“But I was on patrol with my squadron when you arrived, and I didn’t hear anything about it. We weren’t due to return until late, and my parents were willing to let me get away with missing the gala, since you weren’t expected to be there. But then one of the knights rode out to join us, having been delayed by a personal matter, and he told us about your dramatic arrival.”
He flashed her a grin. “I like your style, by the way. I was very tempted to ride straight for Bryford, but the patrol wasn’t complete, and that would mean leaving my squadron to finish it without me.” He gave her a rueful look. “And I’m making an effort to be more responsible these days.”
She gave him a smile that was more a grimace at the reminder of their disastrous training session.
“I intended to be back in time to claim the last dance at least,” Kincaid said, again reaching out to touch the bracelet. “And to face whatever wrath you might unleash on me. I assumed my family would have alerted you to my existence and you would have put the pieces together by then.”
“So how did the bracelet get to my room?” Jocelyn asked, confused.
Kincaid looked a little sheepish. “I couldn’t leave my squadron, but I had a squire return to Bryford immediately with my token, under strict instructions to have a maid leave it in your room.” His eyes met hers in appeal. “I just couldn’t bear the idea of you sitting next to Ormond, dancing with him, looking to everyone like his chosen partner, without some reminder that I exist.”
“You think I needed a reminder?” asked Jocelyn, amused. She touched his chin lightly, holding his gaze with her own. “You didn’t need to be actually in the room for you to be all I could see wherever I looked.” She looked down, her cheeks suddenly heating. “I didn’t find the bracelet until after I left the gala. But it certainly did its job. One look at it, and I suddenly knew I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t marry Ormond, not when you were out there somewhere.”
“Truly, Jocelyn?” Kincaid sounded amazed. “Do you mean that?”
She nodded, still not looking him in the eye. “I’d already chosen you, Kincaid, before I found out who you are. I just hadn’t had the chance to tell you. That is,” she looked up self-consciously, “if you still want me.”
“If I still want you?” he repeated, incredulous. “If I still want you?” His arms tightened around her for a moment, his eyes blazing. Then all of a sudden his lips were on hers, answering her more effectively than words ever could. She clung to him, her exhaustion making her knees go weak like some simpering damsel.
Kincaid didn’t seem to mind, just pulling her so tightly against his chest that she was lifted almost off her feet. She surrendered herself to the feeling, and soon his strong arms were all that was holding her up as she returned his kiss, tears of relief and release mingling with their embrace. Their kiss slowed, became gentler, but neither seemed quite willing to end it. Jocelyn slid her arms around his neck, playing idly with the soft hair at its nape.
Kincaid eventually pulled away, laying his cheek on her head again. “The knights are taking a long time,” he
said breathlessly. “I’m guessing Henrik is stalling them. I owe him one.”
“Henrik is here?” Jocelyn asked lazily, her eyes closed as she leaned into him.
“He’s one of the knights in my squadron.”
“Oh.” There was a moment of contented silence.
“Jocelyn,” Kincaid whispered, and the intensity in his quiet voice sent a thrill through her. “Are you really all right?”
“Of course I am,” she said, smiling into his tunic. “Now, anyway.”
He let out a long breath. “It was torturing me, Jocelyn, the thought that you might marry Ormond anyway. But it was nothing to what I felt when I learned you were gone. Everyone seemed to think you’d just run off, because you’d looked upset when you left the gala. But I didn’t believe it for a moment. I was frantic. It wasn’t until late this morning that Lavvy told me what you’d said about Lord Randall, and how she hadn’t been able to find him last night like you asked her to.”
“Lavvy,” said Jocelyn, with a laugh. “Of course. Lavinia is your sister. The one I’ve heard so much about.” She laughed again at a sudden realization. “You’re the one who sneaks her pastries when she’s not allowed to stay for the galas!”
“Uh, yes, I do, sometimes,” said Kincaid in bewilderment.
Jocelyn shook her head. “She mentioned it to me last night, and I thought she meant Ormond. It made me like him more.”
Kincaid snorted. “Ormond sneaking Lavvy pastries? Not likely. He thinks Lavinia should be restrained half the time.” He grinned. “And he’s not altogether wrong. She’s a handful, isn’t she?”
“She is,” Jocelyn chuckled. “But I like her.” She grimaced. “She probably thinks I’m out of my mind, though. She came to see me after I left the gala, but I was in a daze. I’d just had another one of those strange visions about Princess Sarai, and then I saw your bracelet, and I—wait a minute!” she stared at him. “I’ve just realized. You’re part of the Valorian royal family.”
Legacy of the Curse Page 49
