Page 16 of The Protector’s Promise

He propped his hands on his knees, still squatting in front of her. “Will you tell me what the vision was about?”

“It was that morning.” She looked down at her concealed mark again. “The day it appeared.”

“Your parents must have been—”

“Proud.” She laughed—a hollow, empty sound that reminded him of the vision. “They were proud, and excited, and a bit nervous too.”

“Then why—”

“I did nothing to deserve it.”

When she looked into his eyes, Court saw himself. Hadn’t he always questioned whether he deserved Richard Caiser’s sponsorship? The opportunities that had landed in his lap?

“They were not proud of me. This gift . . . I can’t control it. It’s just like my ability to sense malintent . . .”

Though she stopped, Court could understand all too well. This was why he felt a burning need to prove himself, to show everyone, once and for all, he deserved the opportunities he’d been given.

He could have told her she was special for much more than her gifts, that he’d never met a woman like her. That he wanted nothing more than to press his lips to hers and lose himself trying to fulfill his earlier vision. Instead, he stood, reached out his hand, which she took, and guided her back to their bed in the forest.

Once they were lying down again, he lifted the blanket over them and said, “This time, do try to keep your hands off me.”

He smiled when she chuckled, but his merriment was short-lived. As she moved into a comfortable position, Court prepared for a long, long night ahead.

5

She awoke nestled in Court’s arms, a feeling so unusual that her first instinct was to scramble away. Her second was to move closer, which was exactly what she did until his pained moan from behind stopped her. The sound sent a rush of feeling through Marion. Of all the men her father had presented to her as possible husbands, none had ever made her skin tingle and her heart beat as quickly as this Englishman.

This Englishman who was now pulling himself away from her.

“Not yet,” she heard herself saying. “I’m cold.”

She was no such thing. The heat from his body fended off the crisp morning chill just fine. But when Court wrapped his thick arm around her shoulder once again, she sighed and moved closer to his warmth.

They had lain that way for what seemed like hours, though only a few moments had passed, when a familiar feeling came over her. But this was not the slight chill that had warned her of danger before. It was as if she’d stepped out into the coldest of winter days. So cold it hurt as she sucked in her breath.

“Marion?”

Court must have sensed it too, for one moment she was contemplating the wisdom of her hastily uttered command for him to stay, the next, she was lying on her back, Court peering over her, his eyes wide and brows wrinkled.

“Danger,” she managed to say, watching Court jump to his feet, sword immediately in hand. The bitter cold lessened, though it did not go away completely. Marion rubbed her arms to warm herself, coming up behind Court.

“My dagger.”

He spared her the briefest of glances before walking toward his horse and pulling the weapon from where it had been hidden among his belongings. Handing it to her silently, he looked in both directions, and when she nodded toward the north, Court motioned for her to move around him.

When she did, he untied his horse, his movements quick and silent, and pointed to the stirrup. Marion let him assist her in mounting, and as she silently grabbed the reins, still holding her dagger, he whispered to her, “Stay here. If you see anyone but me approach, ride away as fast as you can.”

After pausing to be sure no sounds reached them, Marion whispered back, “I will not leave you.”

“You can, and you will.”

With that, he strode toward the ridge that hid them from view but also concealed whatever enemies neared them. Marion looked up to the sky, the sun finally having made an appearance, and waited.

I will not leave you.

It was as if her words had forgotten to reconcile themselves before escaping her mouth. She should have said, I will not leave the stone.

Court moved toward her so silently that she didn’t notice his approach until he was nearly upon her. He mounted behind her and spurred the horse to a slow canter. She wanted to ask what he’d seen, but they sped up before she could speak. And as she had the day before, Marion silently admired his horsemanship. They navigated the terrain effortlessly, and only when he finally slowed again did she ask what had happened.