“Do you think you could slow down a little? I can’t keep up,” she said from behind him.
He stopped and waited for her, then matched her pace, winding his way through the village to her hut. When they got there, she didn’t go in right away. Instead, she looked up at him. “I don’t know what I did this time to make you mad, but I hope you’re over it by morning,” she said. “I’m tired of your moods.”
She started to step into the hut, but he grabbed her arm and swung her around, then pulled her into his arms. Looking down at her, his heart racing with desire, he asked, “Do you want to know why I’m acting like this?”
“Jamison, let me go,” she said, pushing against him. “I don’t care.”
“I think you do,” he said, making her look up at him.
Her lips parted in surprise, her tongue slipped out of her mouth and glided over her lips, and he was suddenly on fire. Nothing could have stopped him from kissing her right then, and when his lips found hers, he was rewarded by a burst of pleasure so intense, the world faded away. Miranda’s breasts were pressed up against his chest and he felt her nipples harden through the thin fabric of her dress, and the purr of pleasure that escaped through her lips only made the fire burn hotter.
He smashed her against him, his swollen flesh pressing against her leg, and suddenly she became stiff in his arms. Then she began to push at his chest, breaking the kiss, a look of panic on her face, and he let her go. Her chest was rising and falling, her eyes full of fear, and he couldn’t stop her before she ran into the hut and slammed the door.
Horrified that he’d had so little control, he walked the few feet to his hut, went inside, undressed in the dark, and let the cold night air wash over his body. He’d never kissed a woman who hadn’t wanted to be kissed, or enjoyed kissing a woman as much as he had Miranda, and his mind couldn’t make sense of it. He’d never imagined that a woman would drive him so crazy that he’d behave like a savage, and part of him wanted to blame her.
But she was completely innocent, even if at times her eyes beckoned to him; he knew what she’d been through, or at least was beginning to understand. As tough as she tried to be, he knew that she was fragile, that she’d never been treated with kindness or compassion. When he thought of her mother and the men who’d hurt her, his body flushed with heat again, but this time, it was the heat of anger.
The anger drove him up from his bed to pace naked across the hut, but he finally put on his clothes and left, thinking that a walk would ease his restlessness. He’d only made it a few feet when he heard whimpering sounds coming from Miranda’s hut. He stopped and backed up a few steps, listening, then heard her whimper and cry out in fear.
***Miranda***
Miranda was trapped, her arms and legs frozen as the man approached her. She tried to scream but all that came out was a muffled groan. Then just as the man reached her, she was able to move, but he grabbed her and pressed her against his body, grinding his hips into her. She screamed and began to fight, but he grabbed her with a biting grip and slammed his mouth down on hers. This time, her cry was muffled by his mouth, and she fought harder as it became more difficult to breathe.
She struck out at him, feeling her hand connect with his face, and then suddenly she was awake, and Jamison was shaking her. Slapping his hands away and scooting farther away from him, she looked around the hut, her breath coming in short gasps, her body shaking with fear. The dream had been so real, it took her a few seconds to realize that she was safe, that there was no one in the room except him.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his face full of concern.
“It was just a dream,” she said, hugging her knees to her chest and shivering.
“Here, let me wrap you up in this blanket,” Jamison said, noticing that her mat was a mess of tangled blankets. “You’re shivering.”
Miranda just stared off into the darkness, but when he put the blanket on her shoulders, she flinched and pulled away. “It’s okay. I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to, but let me wrap you up,” he said, his voice low and tender.
She let him but held her body tense until he backed away again. “Do you have that dream often?” he asked, wanting to get her talking.
“Ever since it happened,” she said, then looked over at him, wishing she hadn’t.
He was silent for so long, she finally looked over at him. “I’m sorry, Miranda. I didn’t mean to upset you. I shouldn’t have kissed you like that; it was wrong,” he said.
She looked away from him, filled with disappointment. “It’s okay. It was just a kiss. You didn’t know,” she said, trying to shrug it off.
“I didn’t say I didn’t want to kiss you,” he said, “because I did. I’m just sorry I did it the way I did.”
It took Miranda a second to digest his words, then her heart leaped with joy, but her brain told her to be careful. Jamison didn’t know the truth about her, didn’t know that she wasn’t as innocent as she looked, and she couldn’t find a way to tell him without humiliating herself and reliving that night.
All she wanted to do was throw herself in his arms and pour out her heart to him, but she knew what would happen when he heard the truth. He’d get a look of disgust on his face when he realized that she was damaged, soiled by the Unseelie who claimed her as his own. She knew that it would destroy her, break the little part of her heart that remained unbroken.
“If you knew the truth about me, you wouldn’t want to kiss me again,” she said, turning away from him, trying to fight the tears that were building.
He gently reached over and took her shoulders in his hands, and she winced, but this time, he was gentle. “Don’t you think that’s my decision?” he asked, his eyes searching her face.
“Don’t make me tell you, Jamison. I can’t stand to see that look on your face, that one you finally stopped making,” she whispered.
He pulled her to him. “I won’t make you talk about it,” he said. “But whatever happened to you wasn’t your fault; it’s not your guilt to carry.”
“I wish I could believe that,” she said, listening to his heart beating and wishing that things could be different.
She wasn’t sure when she fell asleep, but when she woke in the morning, she was still wrapped in Jamison’s arms, their legs tangled in the blankets. Hoping not to wake him, her face burning with embarrassment, she tried to sneak away, but he clamped his arm around her tighter, and she knew that he was awake.
“Are you ready to talk to me yet so I can do all the things to you I’ve been dreaming about?” he asked, not opening his eyes.
She jumped out of his arms and scrambled to her feet. “I think breakfast is ready,” she said, backing toward the door. “We’ll have to save that discussion for later.”
“Was that too much for first thing in the morning?” he asked, finally looking at her, his eyes filling with desire.
She looked down at herself, realizing that her nipples were hard and quite visible through the dress she still wore. Turning away from him, she took several deep breaths and tried to smooth her hair down, willing her body to cooperate. She heard him chuckle behind her and a thrill went through her at the sound, but the truth was still standing between them and she wasn’t ready to tell him the truth, wasn’t ready to tell anyone.
Plus, she told herself, as her heartbeat slowed, Jamison had made it more than clear how he felt about witches, a complication that confused her. He’d been so kind and gentle with her last night, but he’d also accused her only hours before that of working with the Unseelie. Her mother had warned her about the Fae, and she wondered if she was just getting a taste of Jamison’s true nature, and if she was, she knew deep down it would be a huge mistake to fall into bed with him, no matter what her body said.
Chapter Ten
Jamison
Jamison could see the change in the set of Miranda’s shoulders and knew that he’d pushed things too far. He’d only meant to tease her, to show her that, well, he wasn’t sure wh
at he’d been hoping to achieve with his banter, but whatever it was, it hadn’t worked, and he found himself oddly disappointed. Trying not to think about what that meant, he got up from the sleeping mat and ran his hands through his hair, feeling the heaviness of the silence between them.
“I’m sure you’re right,” he finally said, “We should get to breakfast.”
He was even more disappointed when Miranda agreed immediately and slipped out the door with only a quick glance behind her to see if he was ready. They were quiet over breakfast, neither capable of small talk, and it was a relief when Toby finally came and joined them. If he felt the tension between them, he pretended to ignore it, and some of the tension had eased by the time they’d finished eating.
They were just getting ready to leave when a messenger came rushing into the lodge; clearly out of breath, he headed straight for Toby. When Toby gestured for him to be seated, the young man sank to the ground gratefully, then took a few seconds to compose himself. Jamison knew that a messenger arriving in such a state was a bad sign and prepared himself for disturbing news.
“What have you discovered?” Toby asked when the young man had recovered enough to talk.
“There are Unseelie scattered along the road to the cabin; there’s no way anyone could get through there without being caught,” the messenger said. “We’re estimating that there are least twenty, but there could be more.”
Jamison’s heart sank. “What is the Unseelie doing this far into the mountains?” he asked, trying to absorb the bad news.
Toby shrugged. “Ballantine wasn’t the only place the Unseelie were hiding,” he said. “They managed to infiltrate most of the villages here in the mountains as well. Without the Alpine Guard, we’ve been unprotected for a long time, and it wasn’t that hard for them to put their people in place.”
“And now?” Jamison asked.
“We’ve eliminated the traitors,” Toby said.
Jamison couldn’t help but shiver; he knew what that meant and almost felt sorry for the Unseelie. Toby’s tribe wasn’t known for treating its enemies with much compassion. But that didn’t help him; he was supposed to deliver Miranda to the cabin and the witch who was supposed to help her; now that looked impossible. Looking over at Miranda, he noticed that she was sitting stiffly, staring at the floor, a look of horror on her face.
“We’re trapped, aren’t we?” she asked. “We can’t get to the cabin, and we can’t go back.”
He reached out and took her hand and squeezed it. “We’ll figure something out,” he said.
“Is there anything else to report?” Toby asked the messenger, who had been given breakfast and was engaged in eating.
He set down his plate, and a blush spread across his cheeks. “I’m sorry, Toby, I almost forgot,” he said, pulling an envelope out of his pocket. “I was almost to the village when I saw an old woman standing on the trail. I was going so fast, I nearly ran her over, but I managed to stop in time. It was like she appeared from nowhere; she handed me this, then walked away into the forest, and I swear she just disappeared.”
Toby took the envelope and looked at it, then held it out to Miranda. “It has your name on it,” he said.
Miranda took the envelope from him with shaking hands, tore it open, and pulled out a single sheet of paper. She looked at it for only a second before holding it out to him. “It’s a map,” she said.
The first thing that caught his eye was the message scrawled across the top in wavering black ink, and he looked back over at Miranda, whose face had gone pale. “It must be from Abagail,” he said, looking back down at the map.
He studied it for a long time, tracing the path the witch had given them, sure that something was wrong. “Take a look at this, Toby, and tell me what you think,” he said, handing the page over.
Toby studied the map for a long time, then looked up at Jamison. “There are trails on here that don’t exist,” he said.
“Do you think it’s a trap?” Jamison asked, instantly on his guard when Toby confirmed what he was thinking.
“It’s not,” Miranda said, her voice quiet. “It’s from Abagail.”
Jamison looked at her suspiciously. “How do you know that?” he asked.
Miranda hesitated. “I’m not sure, I just know,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “I knew it was from her before I even opened it.”
That answer didn’t make him any less suspicious, but then he remembered all that Miranda had been through and found himself taking a leap of faith. “Well, I was wondering what we were going to do, but it looks like that’s been solved. I just hope we’re not walking into a trap.”
“I’ll send some of my men ahead to scout the area for Unseelie,” Toby said. “But I don’t know if you’ll find that trail. I know I’ve never seen one there before.”
“It will be there for us,” Miranda said, so sure of herself that neither man questioned her.
“We’d better get you some horses, then,” Toby said.
Half an hour later, they were astride two of Toby’s best horses, the few supplies they’d need stowed away in the saddlebags. The scouting party had been gone for more than twenty minutes, and although Jamison wished they could wait until they returned, he had to settle for meeting them on the trail. It would be a full day’s ride to the place marked on the map and he didn’t want to spend the night out on the trail, so they kicked their horses into a trot, waved goodbye to Toby, and started up the trail.
***Miranda***
They’d been riding for hours, and Miranda knew that Jamison was beginning to believe that the trail they were looking for wasn’t there. He’d been looking at the map every few miles and consulting with the scouting party, which was now their escort, and sending her dirty looks. But she knew deep down that the trail would be there and ignored him, unable to explain how she knew, but certain that they’d find it. Something strange had happened to her when she’d held the map from Abagail; a yearning had spread through her, a feeling of being pulled toward something wonderful.
It was so much like what she’d felt when she was in the black void, the pull of something good, and this time, she recognized it for what it was: the call of another witch. She still hadn’t changed her mind about using her magic, but she couldn’t resist the pull and followed it, the smallest bit of hope coming to life inside her. All her life, she’d only felt the black magic of her mother, but this felt different, and she let it cleanse her as only something pure and clean can do.
When they topped a rise and a trail materialized out of the forest, Jamison stopped his horse and stared, but Miranda only smiled and nudged her horse forward. “Are you coming?” she asked, turning to look back at him.
“Where...that wasn’t there...” Jamison stuttered looking back at the men who were staring wide-eyed at the new trail.
He turned back to Miranda, his mouth still hanging open in shock. “I told you it would be here,” she said, grinning at him. “Are you scared?”
Jamison shook himself out of his shock. “No, I’m not scared, but this is why I hate magic; it’s too unpredictable,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “What if we take this trail and can’t ever get back? What if it disappears again?”
Miranda sighed. “That’s not the way it works,” she said. “The trail has always been here, will always be here, you just can’t see it most of the time.”
“But you knew it was here,” he accused.
She nodded. “Because I can sense the magic, and Abagail wanted us to find it,” she said.
Jamison gave her that look she was coming to know so well, but it didn’t bother her as much as before. “Look, you can either trust me or turn back, but I’m going on,” she said.
The words felt right coming out of her mouth, the first time anything had felt right since the night her mother had been killed. Jamison studied her for a second, then turned back to the men behind him. “Let’s go,” he said, nudging his horse into a slow walk and grimacing when it ste
pped onto the trail.
The men tried to follow, but something held them back, and a message flashed into her mind. “They can’t come,” she said, “They can wait here for us, or go back to the village, but they can’t come any farther.”
She could tell that Jamison didn’t like that idea, but when the men tried again to follow and were repelled by an unseen force, they shook their heads and refused to try again. Looking uncomfortable, Jamison rode up next to her and she kicked her horse into a slow trot, anxious now to find Abagail. It wasn’t long before the forest began to close in around them, and Jamison started looking even more uncomfortable.
Slowing her horse, she looked up at the towering trees that blocked out the bright afternoon sunlight and noticed shadows moving in the forest around them. “Don’t go off the trail no matter what,” she said, watching the shadows from the corner of her eye.
“What is that?” Jamison asked, looking over at her, his eyes wide with fear. “I don’t think we should be here.”
“They’re lost spirits. You would probably call them ghosts,” she said. “As long as we stay on the trail, they won’t bother us.”
She saw Jamison shiver with revulsion. “What are they doing here?” he asked.
“I’m not sure,” she said. “I don’t think Abagail is keeping them here; there could be a doorway somewhere around here that attracts them sometimes.”
“Can they hurt us?” Jamison asked.
Miranda shook her head. “No, not physically but they can give us hallucinations, strange visions that could cause you to harm yourself,” she said. “They prey on your worst fears, make them come to life. I’ve seen it happen and it’s not pretty.
“I’ve never heard of that,” he said, clearly skeptical.
She looked over at him. “It takes a very powerful witch and black magic to do it,” she said. “My mother did it several times and it wasn’t something I’d wish on anyone.”
Fae Mistaken (Fae 0f Ballantine Book 4) Page 6
