Fate's Call Page 6

  The hope Jarek instilled in her made her chest ache.

  Whether she stayed with Norden or went with her tanner, Erron would never be the same.

  ****

  Evening meal was an awkward affair. Jarek had no idea what was going on, other than the fact he didn’t like Erron with her eyes cast down, head bowed, much too silent.

  His gut stayed tight, his heart screaming the wrongness of the situation.

  What the hell was going on?

  The food itself was great…the rabbit stew even tastier than Anais’. Erron’s father said nothing, just stuffed spoonful after spoonful into his mouth, grunting from time to time. How could Erron eat around him for every meal? It was unappetizing to watch him, so Jarek avoided it as much as he could.

  He forced himself to eat slowly. Jarek cut bread for Erron when he took a second helping and she thanked him quietly before gluing her eyes back to her bowl. She’d only looked at him once, and it was killing him.

  In his experience, meals had always been a time to share the day with loved ones. Even before Anais had started cooking for him and his father regularly, their meals had been full of discussion.

  From what Jarek had seen tonight, Erron’s father treated her like a servant. He hadn’t even thanked her—for anything, the full mug of mead, the bread on his trencher, and multiple bowls of stew. He ate; she bustled, leaving her food three times already to answer his demands.

  Jarek clenched a fist, biting back a growl. The man was a bastard. No matter what he had to do, he was taking her with him when he left.

  He finished his meal, declining a second portion when Erron quietly offered. Jarek waited at the table seat in silence, his hands entwined on his lap.

  Her father finished his third helping of stew and finally leaned back in his chair. The man drained his mug of mead and she refilled it without comment.

  Every action made Jarek even angrier. His blood was boiling by the time the older man met his gaze.

  “So, what brings you here?” Erron’s father asked. “You’re a tanner by trade, if I remember?”

  Be. Polite. Jarek nodded, forcing a smile. “Yes, sir. My father is a Master and has taught me all he knows. Our goods are sought out all over Dalunas Main. The Duchess of Dalunas is using us exclusively. I enjoy our work and I hope to have my own shop one day.”

  The fair-haired man’s gaze didn’t waiver. He studied Jarek, saying nothing.

  He reminded himself he needed to gain favor with the bastard. He wanted to marry his daughter.

  “You have not answered my question.” The large man’s voice boomed, and he rested a meaty fist on the table.

  Erron shoved her chair back from the table and scrambled to her feet.

  The move was a distraction for both men, and Jarek didn’t miss the glare her father threw her way.

  She lowered her head and Jarek clenched his jaw. Damn the man.

  Her hands trembled as she grabbed and stacked the three empty bowls and the baking board that had held the loaf of bread. It took all he was made of to not reach for her, pull her close and comfort her.

  Once again, his instincts screamed that something was very wrong between her and her father. Erron was petrified.

  Jarek forced his gaze back to the pale eyes that matched hers. Norden was staring back at him, his expression expectant.

  “I intend to marry your daughter.”

  Erron dropped the bowls, and one shattered.

  Chapter Ten

  Erron’s father threw back his head and laughed.

  What the hell is amusing?

  Jarek was torn between punching the bastard and rushing to Erron’s side to make sure she was all right.

  “Marriage?” the man asked. His mirth was obvious, a smile on his wide mouth, making his beard jump. “You came here seeking my daughter’s hand? You shouldn’t have bothered.” Now his tone was disparaging and he frowned.

  Like she was dirt. Or worse.

  Jarek scowled, clenching his fists. Why hadn’t he brought a weapon?

  “As you can see, the lass is not worth much. She’s the clumsy sort.” Norden gestured to Erron, who was squatted down gathering shards of pottery from the bowl she’d dropped.

  Growling, Jarek leaned forward. “Do not speak of her that way in my presence.” He caught Erron’s head shooting up in his peripheral vision, eyes as wide as saucers.

  Her father’s brows drew together and his expression was dark, but Jarek glared right back. “The lass is mine!” he barked.

  “I’m not leaving her with you,” Jarek promised, making a fist, but kept it on his lap. He gritted his teeth and tried to suck in a calming breath, but nothing worked. He wanted to hit Erron’s father. Or do more damage than a mere punch could inflict.

  Norden’s face reddened and he pounded a hand on the table. The remaining items—some salt in a small glass bottle and a spoon—jumped.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Jarek saw that Erron jumped, too. She paled and hurried her task of picking up pieces of the bowl.

  He cursed under his breath.

  The older man had several inches in height and about fifty pounds—weight and muscle—on him, but Jarek would do what he had to do for Erron.

  He wasn’t going home without her.

  Hopefully she’d forgive him if he had to pound the bastard a few times. Blessed Spirit knew he wanted to wipe the expression off her father’s face with his fists. Erron was so scared of the man maybe she wouldn’t be bothered by it.

  Jarek stared her father down, both of them unmoving.

  “The lass is mine,” Norden repeated. “Mine to do with as I wish. For my farm, my food, my cottage, my bed, even for my disposal if I saw fit.”

  Jarek froze at the same time Erron cried out.

  His bed? Did that mean…?

  No. The man was her father.

  Fury burned him from the inside out. His stomach churned the pleasant meal into stone. Bile rose. He swallowed hard. He didn’t want to pound the bastard.

  Jarek wanted to kill him.

  He heard her crying and he couldn’t look at her. It would be impossible for him to see her face red and wet and not act on her behalf. He would grab the nearest—anything—that could act as a weapon and kill her father.

  However, Jarek ending up in the penal territory—especially the one as notorious as Dread Valley, the work camp in Dalunas—would do Erron no good.

  He needed to get her away from Norden.

  ****

  If Erron hadn’t already been on the floor, she would’ve collapsed.

  Her father had just told Jarek everything. And now he wouldn’t even look at her.

  He knows. He knows and now… He doesn’t want you, see the proof?

  Agony constricted her chest and her breathing. She swallowed back a sob, but couldn’t withhold the second. How could she feel so much loss? She didn’t know Jarek. But he didn’t want her now. It was obvious.

  Ruined. Impure.

  She really was destined to waste her life with her father. At his every whim, like he’d told the only man who’d ever wanted to marry her.

  The only man she’d ever wanted to marry.

  Shards of the broken bowl fell from her hands as her vision blurred. Erron deflated, falling to all fours, catching herself before she landed on her face. Her right palm smarted. She’d cut herself on the broken bowl. Her hand was likely bleeding, but she didn’t care.

  Her heart was bleeding, too.

  She heard angry voices, but couldn’t process the words. Her head spun, and she couldn’t focus through the chaos in her mind.

  What would she do now? Life had rarely held meaning, but what little she’d had was now gone. She didn’t want to fight anymore. Her spirit…her soul was truly broken.

  Erron looked up when Jarek shot to his feet.

  Norden shouted, but her would-be-suitor moved too fast.

  She gasped as her father’s chair went over, with him still in it.

  Jarek hit
him two more quick times. Her father’s head jolted with the impact, but he didn’t move otherwise. The tanner shook his hand as he straightened, cursing under his breath.

  She froze, gaping.

  What—?

  Erron blinked but the scene before her didn’t dissipate.

  Jarek had hit—knocked unconscious—her father?

  Why?

  He hurried over to her and thrust down his hand. “C’mon, we have to go.”

  “Go?”

  A dark brow arched. “I told you I wasn’t leaving you here.”

  Erron could only stare.

  Jarek shifted on his feet and threw a glance over his shoulder. “There’s no telling how long he’ll be out…”

  “I…I…”

  How could he still want to take her with him? He knew. It was different now.

  She swallowed hard, her heart thudding in her ears.

  “Erron.” Jarek’s tone compelled her to look up. Their gazes locked. “Do you want to go with me?”

  “Aye.” The word rushed from her lips, but she meant it with all her heart.

  There was no way he’d still want to make her his wife, but Jarek could still get her away from her father. She could offer to earn her keep by helping out in his shop.

  If she had to see him marry someone else it would kill her, but she’d deal with it then.

  For now, Erron would be with Jarek. That was all that mattered.

  She put her hand in his and Jarek yanked her to her feet and into his arms. Her heart skipped a beat, but she clung to him for a moment.

  “Are you all right?” he whispered against her hair.

  “Yes.”

  Jarek leaned back and looked down into her face, smiling gently. “Good. Let’s go.”

  She gathered her few belongings, two other dresses—her only ones—and underclothes, her mother’s silver comb and mirror.

  He helped her stuff them into a hide bag.

  Then Erron let him lead her to the door of the cottage she’d been born in.

  Jarek tugged her outside, to his waiting horse. He smiled again as he secured her bag to his mount. His hands on her waist as he lifted her into the saddle rushed her face with heat. When he settled behind her and pulled her close, she trembled.

  Her tanner pressed his knees to the bay mare’s sides.

  As they rode away, Erron didn’t look back.

  Chapter Eleven

  Erron was encased in warmth, and it made her sleepy. She swayed, then caught herself. She was on the back of a horse and would topple off if she didn’t sit up. But then his arms tightened around her.

  Safe. Warm.

  “I’ve got you. Sleep if you want to. We should be back into the city center in about an hour.” Jarek’s warm breath tickled her ear and a shiver slid down her spine.

  She tried not to stiffen. He was holding her, touching her.

  It was right and so foreign at the same time. Her heart skipped a beat.

  “I understand if you don’t want to trust me, but I swear I won’t let anything happen to you, Erron.” His voice was low and even.

  A vow. But why? He knew the truth now.

  “I trust you.” The words tumbled out of her mouth, but they were as true as his promise to her.

  Jarek kissed her cheek and squeezed her in his arms. “Then sleep. I’ve got you.”

  Erron quivered, but burrowed into his chest and he held her closer, her head nestled against him. Her eyes slipped closed and stomach fluttered. This was unreal, but she’d hold onto it for as long as she could. His steady heartbeat against her ear serenaded her to sleep.

  “Erron.” Her name, soft and right in her ear woke her with a start, but Jarek steadied her.

  She jolted in her skin.

  Everything rushed back. His proposal, the horrible dinner…her father on his back, unconscious.

  It’s real.

  She was free.

  Erron straightened and swallowed hard.

  “Relax, I’ve got you. We’re almost home.” His even voice grounded her…but home?

  Where was home for her?

  “Jarek, I…” What was she supposed to say? He’d saved her from her father, stolen her away…

  “Shhh, it’s all right,”

  “But—”

  “We’ll figure it out, Erron. I promise. I don’t want you to worry about anything. You’re safe. And you always will be.”

  ‘And you always will be’ bounced around in her head. What did that mean? Her heart galloped. He doesn’t want you for his wife, don’t be a little fool. Heat crept up her neck, but she shivered.

  “Cold?” He squeezed her against him.

  “Nay.” She shook her head for effect.

  He paused and she felt his chest heave as if he’d taken a breath. “Are you afraid of me?”

  “No.” Erron’s answer was vehement.

  Jarek chuckled and she found herself smiling. “Good. I don’t ever want that.” His voice was serious, no trace of his amusement.

  “I could never be afraid of you,” she whispered.

  He kissed the top of her head, her ear, then her cheek.

  Erron turned her face so she could see some of him, any of him.

  Jarek’s lips came down on hers hard and fast.

  She gasped.

  Why was he kissing her? Surely…

  “I’m sorry, did I hurt you?”

  “N-n-no…just surprised me.” Her breath exited on a whoosh and she faced front again.

  The gates of Dalunas Main were coming into view. Her heart sped up, reality hitting her hard. Had Jarek not been holding her close, she would have listed to the side, probably fallen.

  “He’ll come after me.”

  “I don’t care,” Jarek said, his tone hard. “I’ll petition Lord Camden, if I have to. You’re not going back.”

  Erron’s stomach roiled. Why would the Duke of Dalunas care about her?

  “Besides, if we marry quickly, there’s not a damn thing he can do to take you away from me.”

  Her heart dropped to her stomach. “Marry…quickly?”

  Jarek didn’t speak for a long moment. “I want you to be my wife. Have I not made that clear?”

  A lump rose in her throat and her vision blurred despite her efforts to stave off tears. How could he want me?

  “Of course I want you. Nothing could change that.”

  She’d spoken aloud? Heat rushed her cheeks and she was grateful for the darkness so Jarek wouldn’t be able to see.

  It was clear what his emphasis on nothing meant, which just made her want to squirm in his arms. A new sob threatened, and Erron’s hand flew to her mouth to hold it back. Her breathing was rough, her chest heaving.

  Waving, Jarek greeted the guards at the city gates as they passed through. Her tanner said nothing to her. Tears cascaded down her cheeks and she wiped them away only to have them replaced by more. Her body shook, but Jarek held her tight; she wasn’t going to fall. He let her cry.

  She needed it.

  His arms around her, his chest against her shoulders, his warmth surrounding her was more comfort than his words could be.

  Soon they arrived at the public stables her father always used when they were in town. The stable master’s son met them at the entrance and Jarek jumped down.

  Erron’s back was cold without him behind her, but his large hands settled on either side of her waist and pulled her from the saddle of the bay mare. Her legs shook as her feet hit the dirt but Jarek, once again, steadied her.

  She sniffled and swiped at her face.

  He grabbed her bag from the horse and slung it over his shoulder before giving the reins to the stable boy. “I have to settle my bill, then we can head home,” Jarek told her.

  Erron stood where he’d put her, wringing her hands in her skirt.

  When he returned to her side, he cupped her face and thumbed away tears. He leaned down and took her mouth in a tender kiss that flipped her stomach.

  “No more t
ears. You’re safe with me and I’m going to make you mine.”

  She didn’t know what to say. It was unreal. How could he want her? She bit her bottom lip.

  “This wasn’t exactly how I’d planned things, but I don’t regret getting you out of there,” Jarek admitted. In torchlight on the side of the stable, she could see his were eyes searching her face, and his brow was knitted tight.

  She swallowed hard. “I don’t regret it either,” Erron whispered.

  He flashed a smile that made her heart miss a beat.

  “Let’s go. I know my father and Anais are anxious to meet you.” Jarek slipped his arm around her shoulders and they quickly fell into step, heading into the market center.

  Hope and dread warred in her mind, and she leaned into her tanner as they walked.

  Her father would come.

  Erron took a deep breath. Right now, Jarek was at her side and that was all that mattered.

  ****

  Erron was enveloped by the pleasantly plump woman that Jarek had introduced as Anais. She hugged her back, unsure what else to do as she was squeezed into the shorter woman’s softness.

  He hadn’t called her, Mother, but that had to be who the woman was. Perhaps she hadn’t given birth to him, but she was definitely a motherly figure. Probably his father’s second wife. She had the loving aura of a caregiver.

  Jarek’s chuckle made her look up over Anais’ shoulder. “Anais, you’re smothering her.”

  His father, whose name was Kirgan, looked amused, as well, with one corner of his mouth lifted. The two men stood side by side not far from them.

  Anais released her with a bright smile and squeezed her hand. “I’m so glad you’re here, lass. Fair like me, and so gorgeous.”

  Gorgeous? That was the first time anyone had ever complimented her. Someone was glad for her presence? When had that ever happened before?

  Warmth rushed her cheeks and she looked away.

  Jarek winked when he caught her eye and her face burned even more.

  “Thank you,” Erron whispered.

  Stepping forward, Jarek’s father took her hand. “It’s nice to meet you officially.” He leaned in and brushed a kiss onto her cheek, his whiskers tickling.