‘You said you wouldn’t look,’ he said, smiling at my reaction.
‘I didn’t mean to,’ I told him, as I let my shorts drop to the floor.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Getting in the bath with you,’ I answered. ‘It’s far too big for one—that’s just a waste of water.’
‘Please, don’t,’ he whispered.
‘You don’t sound very convincing.’ I hesitated while he decided whether he meant it or not.
‘I know.’ He frowned, his face twisted in indecision. Finally he relented and looked at me. ‘All right, Marla, join me if you like, I do hate waste.’
‘I know, Leif, it’s a terrible thing.’ I smiled sweetly. I watched his face and heard the sharp intake of his breath followed by a long sigh as he watched me undress and join him in the bath.
‘You are so beautiful,’ he murmured as I went to him.
I took the sponge from the side of the bath. ‘Lay your head back and rest. Let me take care of you, and don’t worry, I said I’d be good and I will—no naughtiness, I promise.’ I watched his mouth curve into a smile as he lowered his head to the edge of the bath and closed his eyes. Starting from the top of his head, I took my time and washed his poor bruised body all the way down to his toes.
‘This can’t continue you know,’ he said, as he dried himself off, before pulling on a pair of cotton pants and tying them at his hips.
‘Why not? It’s just a bath, and it’s not like anything happened. I wrapped a towel around my body and followed him back into the bedroom.
His eyebrows shot up. ‘Just a bath? I consider it to be just a bath when I am in the bath alone, and, it can’t continue because I can’t stand it. If I was to continue just having baths with you, I might break my resolve and, Marla, I don’t want to. It’s important to me to wait until we are married.’
‘But I didn’t do anything wrong.’
‘Just your presence was torture. I can’t take it. I don’t think you realise how difficult it is for me to resist you.’
‘Fine then,’ I said grudgingly. ‘But do you realise how many times you just said I and me. Doesn’t what I want count at all?’
‘Of course it does and it is for you I wait.’
‘Don’t do me any favours, Leif,’ I grumbled.
‘Marla, I—’
‘Oh stop,’ I interrupted with a heavy sigh. ‘I’m just being horrible. I love you and I should be glad you respect me enough to wait.’
‘It will be worth it. Just imagine our wedding night.’ He wrapped an arm around my waist and drew me against him.
‘I have been, that’s the trouble,’ I moaned.
‘So have I,’ he whispered. ‘So have I.’
‘I have a problem, Leif,’ I said when we were in control of our passion once again. ‘I have nothing to wear—I wasn’t exactly given time to pack, and the clothes I came in are all wet on the floor of your bathroom.’
‘We have some time. I’ll go get you something from the market.’
‘I’ll come with you.’
‘Wrapped in that towel?’ Leif grinned.
‘I can wear something of yours.’
‘My clothes will be far too big for you.’
‘I don’t mind.’ The thought of him leaving me alone even for a moment was terrifying.
He went to his wardrobe, selected a pair of pale blue pants and brought them to me. I tugged them on and pulled the drawstring tight. The crotch sagged almost to my knees and Leif laughed at the sight of me.
‘Sit on the bed, Marla; I’ll roll them up for you.’ I sat in the middle of the bed and stretched my legs in front of me. Leif sat cross-legged before me and lifted my legs into his lap. Then he rolled one leg of the pants into a thick cuff and kissed each of my toes before repeating the process with the other.
‘Wait here, I’ll be back in a moment,’ he said when he’d finished.
‘Where are you going?’
‘To tell my father where we’re going so he doesn’t send the guard after us. They just might be able to take me, given the state I’m in.’
‘But you look much better.’
‘That bath did wonders.’ He grinned.
When he returned a few short minutes later, I asked, ‘What did he say?’
‘Don’t concern yourself with it, Marla.’
‘Don’t keep things from me, tell me what he said,’ I demanded.
Leif sighed. ‘He said not to do anything stupid, that he knows where you live and next time it will be you who suffers. Then he said to make sure we were back in time for dinner.’ He shook his head at the absurdity of it.
‘I’m kind of sorry I asked,’ I muttered.
‘Don’t think on it. I’ve no intention of trying to escape anywhere with you. This is our home, yours and mine, and this whole mess will be resolved soon enough.’ He held a hand to me. ‘Shall we go?’
‘I need a top, Leif.’
‘You won’t be able to fly.’
There was no way I was going to the markets topless. ‘You can carry me, can’t you?’
Leif took me in his arms and flew over the forest for a minute or so. Then, tucking me close, he descended into the dense canopy, weaving his way down through the trees, dodging branches heavy with foliage and alighting finally on the forest floor. I looked around, wide eyed. The market was the most amazing assault on the senses I’d ever experienced, rampant with colour and filled with faeries. They flitted here and there among the dazzling, tinkling things, laughing and talking. Music floated on the breeze around us—flutes and violins and entrancing sounds I’d never heard before. And there were scents: the sweet sticky smell of toffee, rich spices and silky perfumes; the tang of something citrus—delicious!
The whole area was shrouded by enormous trees, lit by random splashes of sunlight together with a multitude of sunlamps, each dangling from a vine suspended so far above us that it was impossible to see where it began.
Every aspect of the environment was used to display the enticing items on offer. Clothing was suspended from branches; vines running between tree trunks held glittering jewellery created from silver and gold and gemstones. Crystals, bells and wind chimes glittered and sang and shot sparks through the trees where the light fell on them. Silver trays wedged into branches held flowers and perfumes and tiny bottles and jars. There were baskets too, covered with the sheerest netting and loaded with mouth-watering displays of biscuits and pastries and bowls of berries and candy. And thrown onto the constant blanket of leaves were large pieces of cloth, filled with cushions and pots and baskets and small items of furniture. In among this magical sight the Fae either sat on the colourful splashes of fabric working their particular art or craft, or flitted about looking at what was on offer.
I was overwhelmed by the beauty of everything, but felt like a bag lady in Leif’s enormous clothes when I saw how the other girls were dressed. They wore tiny dresses, diaphanous and backless in gorgeous colours, or silky, gathered skirts with crystals sewn into the waistband and no top at all. And bare feet—everyone had bare feet. There wasn’t a shoe in sight.
Leif attracted interest everywhere we went. Everyone knew who he was and the females in particular sought his attention. Ravishing little things they were, beauties every one, their pretty faces alight with a hunger to please my man. They curtsied low before him, quivering with excitement to be in his presence, but not daring to speak unless spoken to. They clutched at his big hand when he offered it, sighing, kissing, pressing his fingers to plump cheeks and soft foreheads. They dropped to their knees before him, eyes glistening with adoration. My belly clenched at the sight of it. I couldn’t see how I would ever get used to it. And then after this show of tender subservience they each wished to claim a piece of him, to talk with him or meet his betrothed. Through tight lips I greeted them, and then felt awful when they demonstrated to me an admiring affection. They offered him whatever it was they were making, begged him to take it—it would be such an honour! Bu
t save for a little thing now and then to give to me, he graciously declined, explaining that he already had enough of everything.
‘You’re like a movie star or something,’ I said, trying hard but failing to keep the mean edge out of my voice as I dragged him along, excited at the sight of everything, despite this prickly new feeling.
‘I am the Johnny Depp of Telophy.’
I wondered how Johnny’s girlfriend coped. I wound my arm around his waist. ‘Johnny’s got nothing on you.’ He smiled and leaned down to kiss the top of my head as I became distracted by the tree we were passing. The limbs—heavy with leaves that shone like coins—seemed to reach all the way to heaven. But the lowest branches were what had my attention: each was laden with baskets heaped high with nuts.
‘You have walnuts in Faera?’ I asked, picking one up and wondering if I could eat it without enduring a near-death experience. On closer inspection I realised the shell was too dark, the texture too rough. I put it back in the basket.
‘They’re firelights,’ Leif said, taking my hand. ‘The pod of the fire bush.’ He turned to the provider, ‘May I?’ he asked, reaching for one.
‘My honour, Highness,’ the man said with a bow.
Leif lifted my hand, palm up, and placed the pod inside. ‘See the star in the middle?’
‘Mmm hmm.’
‘Watch.’ He tapped the star with a finger and the pod burst open, the woody shell peeling apart like petals, revealing a soft pink flame in its centre. The firelight rose from my hand.
‘Oh, pretty!’ I cried, prompting smiles from both Leif and the owner of the firelights.
The dancing flame continued its ascent, eventually coming to rest just above our heads. Leif stood below and blew on its underside and the firelight climbed higher still, stopping to hover around the branches.
‘It won’t set fire to the tree will it?’
‘No, it will stay there for a few hours until it begins to burn out. Then it will come back down as slowly as it went up and the seeds will be scattered on the breeze.’
After learning that the baskets all contained a different colour, we picked a pod from each and soon the tree flickered as though it were filled with multi-coloured fireflies. Then we carried on until I was dazzled yet again, this time by a display of jewellery strung between two trees.
‘Oh Leif, look at those necklaces.’
‘Would you like one?’
‘Really?’
‘Of course. That one with the red stones would look pretty on you.’
‘It’s so nice, but I don’t think that it’s right you just let these people give you things.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, just because you’re . . . you, and every girl here feels like she must present you with her handiwork, doesn’t mean you should get everything you want for nothing.’
‘Did I not tell you, Marla? There is no money in Faera.’
‘Well, there must be trade instead. But, Leif, you just take and give nothing in return. I’ve been watching you do it.’
Leif moved me away from the jewellery. ‘You think that applies to me alone? Look around you, Marla. You will see that everyone is doing the same. There is no trade here. If you need something, you ask for it. It is given with pleasure and received with gratitude.’
I gave him a dubious look. ‘Gratitude won’t pay the bills and put food on the table.’
Leif laughed out loud. ‘What bills? There are no bills. And if it is food for the table you want, then you need only go out and get it.’
I wasn’t convinced. ‘If everything is just available to take, what’s to stop people taking too much? What’s to stop me taking ten of those necklaces? Are they ruby, by the way?’
‘Yes, they are ruby, and I’m sure the woman who made them would think you very strange if you asked for ten. What would you do with so many?’
With no answer, I just shrugged. Leif smiled and we returned to the jewellery.
‘My betrothed would like to try on a necklace,’ he said to the small group of women who’d risen to greet him and were busy hyperventilating and curtsying at the same time. I felt like telling them all to sit back down and get a grip.
‘It would be an honour, my prince,’ one of the women said. Her prince! It was an effort to smile when she took down the necklace and handed it to me.
Leif fastened the chain around my neck.
‘Oh it’s lovely,’ I said, admiring my reflection, momentarily distracted from the snarky feeling inside. ‘Did you make it?’
She nodded, pleased. ‘It is yours if you wish it.’
It felt wrong to just take it.
‘Well, thank you. Is there anything I can give you?’
‘I don’t need anything,’ she said, giving me a curious look. But then she shifted her attention to Leif and her eyes went all dreamy. She might not need anything, but she sure did want something. She wanted to touch my man!
Leif smiled and offered her his hand. She took it into both of hers with a long sigh and pressed it to her face before kissing it. My insides were all in knots. I wanted to tell her to go away in the nastiest way possible.
‘Why are these women so obsessed with you, Leif? And why do they all want to kiss your hand?’ I asked after we’d walked away.
‘You like to kiss my hand, do you not?’ He grinned. ‘You do so often enough.’
‘Yes but . . . ’ It felt so personal and I was about to tell him so when I remembered my reaction to King Aren. ‘I don’t like it when they do it.’
‘It is a blessing I can give them, Marla. Would you deny them that?’
‘Yes,’ I said without hesitation.
Leif chuckled. Did he think I was joking? ‘You should not worry so.’
‘Why not? It’s not exactly fun to watch.’
He touched my lips with his fingertips. He flowed into me and I would have collapsed with the intense pleasure had he not held me up with his other arm. ‘Because the best is only for you,’ he whispered as I recovered.
‘What is it, Leif? Is it magic?’
‘I suppose it is a kind of magic—a magic of kings.’ He smiled. ‘Our hands are the main conduits of our power. We can use that power in many ways, some pleasant, others not. Our hands can heal, give comfort and strength or they can cause pain and punish. They can connect others to what is divine. And—’ he leaned close till his lips touched my ear, ‘—my hands can give a taste of me.’ Shivers ran up and down my body.
‘Well I don’t want you giving that to anyone else.’
‘That last is only for you. But the rest . . . I am prince, Marla, my power is my gift to share.’
I frowned. ‘I don’t see any men lining up to share your gift.’
Leif just laughed and said, ‘You mustn’t worry, what I give means little to me.’
I didn’t quite buy that last bit, but I let it go. It’s not like I had a choice in the matter.
We strolled on, stopping to choose clothing. I selected a dress the colour of butter from a rack that resembled a rainbow and Leif chose a skirt in shell pink. I looked at him, one eyebrow lifted.
He smiled. ‘You will become accustomed to our ways, Marla.’
‘Unless there’s a top to wear with that, I wouldn’t bother,’ I told him.
His smile widened as he folded the scrap of skirt and tucked it into his pocket before giving out his gifted hand for yet another pair of quivering lips.
Display of affection over, we left the prince-intoxicated girl to her clothing and carried on. We’d not gone far when I stopped again, clutching Leif’s arm to stop him with me. He looked to me and smiled, asked what wonderful thing I’d found this time.
‘Look,’ I whispered and pointed towards the blond guy who’d captured my attention. He looked very young. Of course there was no way to know his real age in this place of constant youth, but he could not have reached his immortality yet. He sat cross-legged on one corner of a throw rug, his head inclined to his task. On a low
table before him was a smooth wooden box on which he was painting an image. A girl, his model, sat on the opposite corner of the rug, and displayed on the fabric between them was an assortment of unpainted jewellery boxes of various shapes and sizes.
Leif looked at the guy and must have made the same connection I had, because he walked over and crouched before him. The guy looked up. He was seriously adorable. With his wild blond curls, big blue eyes and Cupid’s bow lips, he looked just like I’d always imagined a faery should. When he realised Leif’s identity, he put down his brush and inclined his head over the table he was working at.
‘My prince,’ he said simply.
‘These are impressive pieces,’ Leif said, sweeping his hand across the area. ‘Fine workmanship.’
‘I am most honoured,’ he said keeping his head bowed.
‘What is your name, sir?’
The young guy lifted his face to look at Leif. ‘I am Asher, Highness.’
‘Asher,’ Leif repeated and, watching him carefully, introduced me. ‘Asher, I’d like you to meet my betrothed. Her name is Marla.’ I sat down beside Leif.
Asher’s eyes darted to my face and he looked at me for a long moment. I thought I saw his big blue eyes mist over.
‘Marla, an angel’s name—my granddaughter’s name. You could almost . . . ’
‘Almost what?’ I asked, as I studied him. I could not believe this man who looked like an adolescent could possibly be a grandfather.
He shook his head, his eyes not leaving my face. He was as captivated by me as I was by him.
‘I’ve got one of those boxes—back at my place. It’s my most treasured possession,’ I told him.
‘It is a great pleasure to know my work is so enjoyed,’ Asher said with a smile.
‘It’s beautiful, Asher, oval shaped and made of this unusual honey-coloured wood with streaks of gold in it. And there’s all these gorgeous flowers around the outside, made from little coloured stones. And the painting is lovely. I think it might be my parents but I can’t be sure. They’re standing in front of a river. She has pale blond hair like mine. His is a little darker. And the way they look at each other! You can tell they’re in love.’
Betrothed Page 23
