Chapter Ten: Husband and Wife
Reaver had proposed—not proposed, but he suggested—traveling under the guise of two newlyweds who were making their way through Bloodstone in order to catch a ship to Samarkand. Two Heroes would be hunted, but a simple husband and wife would be ignored by the type of people they wished to avoid.
Sparrow had begrudgingly agreed to his idea. It seemed to be the only plan that either of them had come up with that made any sort of sense. It would have to do, though she could not imagine why Reaver of all people would suggest such an arrangement. From what she knew of him, he relished a good fight, and he seemed to have a rather nonchalant attitude toward danger. Her instincts told her this might be foolish, but she had jumped at the opportunity to venture out into the world again, despite the dangers that were all around them. She had made her bed, and now she would have to lie in it.
Then again, why should this truly bother her? Sparrow had spent time among some of the most despicable men in Albion during her time in The Spire. How was Reaver any worse than the thieves, rapists, and murderers that had been employed by Lucien? The fact was that he wasn't worse than those men. So what was it that made her insides squirm with anxiety at the thought of being totally alone with him on such a long journey?
The kiss they had shared in Bloodstone came bubbling to the surface of her mind. It had lit something inside of her that she thought had been snuffed eternally by her years of servitude. She thought that part of her had died, and it was because of that she could not give herself fully to Alex. Yet Reaver, with only a kiss, had managed to make her dizzy with lust and thirsting for more.
Her eyes darted toward him, and she felt her stomach flutter at the mere memory of his lean body pressed so tightly against hers. She had never felt so exhilarated, and in a time such as that, how could she not? She could die facing down Lucien, and though that was a sacrifice she was willing to make to eradicate the world of his evil, she would have many regrets. Would she regret not exploring the white hot spark that existed between them?
She banished the idea from her thoughts. She would have to persevere, no matter how tempting Reaver may be. She had a responsibility to Albion, and that was more important than the gnawing hunger deep inside.
"So, my darling," Reaver jibed, putting an arm around her shoulder as they continued down the main road toward Albion's capitol. "When we make it to Bowerstone, should I order two rooms or one at the inn?"
"Two," she quickly fired back, shrugging his arm away.
"Hmmm," Reaver said, rubbing his chin feigning deep thought. "Perhaps that isn't the best idea. We are husband and wife…are we not?" He was grinning again. "Now what kind of husband would I appear to be if I left my beautiful wife in a room of her own when I could be performing my duties as a husband…all through the night?" He reached to stroke the back of his hand against the curve of her cheek.
Sparrow's heart jumped into her throat, pounding a wild rhythm at his mere touch. This would be more difficult than she could have imagined.
"Fine," she breathed, trying to remain steady. "One room."
"One room," Reaver chuckled. "One bed…so many possibilities."
She ignored him, knowing that he was merely trying to get a rise out of her. The entire walk from Bower Lake had been nothing but innuendos and seduction. Apparently, now that he was getting his way, his ire had died down. She couldn't help but think of him as a spoiled child who had never been told 'no.'
"You are positively icy, aren't you?" Reaver said, rubbing his hands together as if to warm them. "Frigid, even. What has gotten your pantaloons in such a twist?"
"My pantaloons are none of your concern," she murmured, taking a few long strides to push ahead of him on the road. Her arms crossed over her chest, and she found herself regretting leaving Hammer and Garth behind. Without anyone else there to distract him, Reaver would only continue to touch her and speak to her in that heated, seductive tone. She was sure she could withstand his seduction if she truly tried. It would be difficult, but her will had been tested so many times before.
Then again, this was not a matter of Heroism or morals. It was a matter of allowing herself to feel something selfishly. Having Reaver in her bed would not do anything but sate her appetite for his body. With Alex, she could imagine that she'd married him and given into her need because she had been in love with him. With Reaver, there was no love—only passion. Passion that threatened to bubble out with every fleeting glance, every touch of his skin against hers.
No. She must deny herself that. She could not allow distraction when her goal was so very close. Perhaps her memories of Alex had been taken by some divine plan. Because she'd allowed herself to get distracted from her ultimate goal, she'd been stripped of her warmth and love. For a while, she actually believed that whatever part of her was capable of such passion had been scooped from inside of her, hollowing her out, making her into a more efficient Hero.
Her throat tightened, and she tried to stop the tormenting thoughts from crashing down on her in such an inopportune time. She kept up her speedy pace, but it didn't take very long for Reaver to catch up.
He was, once again, grinning. "I think you are frustrated."
"Oh?" she asked, her tone dripping with sarcasm. She raised her eyebrows at him, her face set in an incredulous expression. "Whatever gave you that idea?"
"I would only be too happy to help you determine the source of your frustration," he offered. "And thoroughly ease that frustration once we have gotten to the root of the problem."
"What if my frustration lies with you?" she asked. "What, then?"
"Now, what could possibly frustrate you about moi?" Reaver put a hand over his heart, truly wounded by the accusation.
"For starters, you betrayed me…twice," she told him, her mouth pursing into a soft scowl, but reminding him—and herself—of his betrayal might make it easier to deflect his advances.
"Yes, and I'll likely do it again," he retorted. "But that is no reason to be so cross; you'll wrinkle that beautiful face of yours prematurely."
"You don't even care that I think so lowly of you?" she asked. "You're a pompous, spoiled prat with a bad temper."
"Well, they say that if the glove fits…"
"And you just don't give a hobbe's knob?"
"If I cared about my reputation, being immortal would weigh far more heavily upon me, don't you think?" he countered. "People are vicious and fickle. You may have their hearts now, but they will always want more from you. And the moment you stop giving it to them…" He shrugged. "Why anyone would endeavor to be in the people's favor is beyond me. You scramble around trying to please others, waiting for a little pat of appreciation—like a dog doing tricks for a bone."
Alfie whined, perhaps offended by the implication.
"I'm not like that," she argued, shaking her head, but part of her was filled with dread and doubt.
"You would think that, wouldn't you? But you did not even question me when I told you to earn a reputation with the scum in Bloodstone," he asked, holding her gaze. "Had you refused…Now that would have been something notable. Someone who opposes me is far more interesting than someone who follows blindly. Granted, blind faith can be useful, but not in someone who dares to believe they might lead me."
She was silent because she could not deny that there was truth in his accusations. Her cheeks reddened with anger, and her jaw clenched tightly. He had a point, and that infuriated her. She saw the gates to Bowerstone in the distance, and she was grateful. Now she could set off immediately to collect rent and buy some clothes appropriate for blending in with the populace.
"Oh, I've upset you," he said, his tone laced with clear and mocking amusement. "Come now, my dear. If you glower at me this whole journey, people won't believe we're married."
"You'd think that, but I think it would make it much more convincing," Sparrow snapped, her cheeks flaring red with frustration. "They'll see what kind of man you are, and they'll understand the expression on my face, maybe even commend me for taking you as a husband."
"Was that a joke?" he gasped dramatically. "Are we making a breakthrough? Shall I call for a bottle of the finest whiskey once we reach our destination? This is surely an occasion worth celebrating!"
She merely huffed an impatient breath, and she remained silent the rest of the way into Bowerstone, no matter how much Reaver attempted to stir conversation.
"I must compliment youon your extreme determination to dislike me," Reaver said as they crossed the cobbled bridge into the town Square. "But I assure you, one day very soon, you will realize that I am the best you will ever have."
"The best what?" Sparrow finally broke her temporary silence. "The best pain in my arse?"
"The best everything, my dear," he chuckled.
Entering the town square, she turned to Reaver, and she said, "I've got errands to run, and I would prefer to do them alone. Find some way to entertain yourself until I collect you here at noon."
Reaver put his hands on his hips, and he tilted his head inquisitively. "Errands?"
"I own property here in Bowerstone, and I must collect rent," Sparrow explained. "It's not particularly exciting, so I thought you might find distraction elsewhere."
"You mean away from you," he corrected her.
"Precisely," she agreed.
"Well, now," Reaver said. "I suppose I know when I am not wanted…" He grasped her hand suddenly and brushed a kiss against her knuckles. "See you at noon, my sweet wife."
Her heart thudded wildly in her chest, and she drew in a deep breath, watching him disappear into the crowd on the road toward Olde Towne. She shook her hand, as if it would shake the tingling sensation away, and she, feeling a bit more flustered, set off to collect her rent.
-oOo-
With a considerably heavier purse and a slightly clearer mind, Sparrow entered the salon off of the market square, to find Mrs. Darby putting the finishing touches on a woman's fancy curls.
"Mistress Sparrow!" Mrs. Darby exclaimed excitedly when she saw her. She took the gold pieces from the departing noble and crossed the salon to give Sparrow a large, warm hug. "It is such a pleasure to see you! I thought you might have been caught in that horrid business in Bloodstone. It is a relief to see you alive, my dear."
Sparrow's heart warmed, and she allowed the woman to hug her. Little by little she was coming out of her terrible mood, and the joy she felt in finding that Mrs. Darby was prospering in Bowerstone only helped. "I'm glad to see that you came to Bowerstone."
"When the gods bless me so by sending you to me, how could I not?" she asked. "Just in time, too. I would not have survived had I not left when I did." She shook her head softly.
"Yes," Sparrow said with a gentle nod. "It was just in time."
"You look a little worse for wear, my dear," Mrs. Darby noted. "Let me take care of you."
As Sparrow soaked in the restorative bath that Mrs. Darby had drawn, she heard someone else enter the shop, and something hit the ground, shattering—from the sound of it, a bottle.
"I apologize, Mister Reaver!" Mrs. Darby exclaimed quietly. "I'd heard rumor that you perished in the assault on Bloodstone." She sounded as if she didn't know whether to be pleased or disappointed that he was alive.
"Perhaps it would be best if we perpetuated that rumor," Reaver said. "I'd be willing to pay you for your compliance."
"Er…yes sir," Mrs. Darby said. "Is there anything I can do for you, today?"
"I'm looking for someone," Reaver said. "The tailor told me she came in here."
Mrs. Darby seemed to hesitate. "Who would that be, then?"
"My wife," Reaver said, his tone filled with giddy pleasure in being able to put on the little pretense. "Sparrow."
"Your…oh my," Mrs. Darby said. "Let me see whether she has finished up in her bath…I will return shortly."
Mrs. Darby appeared in the bathing room, her face reddened, and her eyes wide and full of worry.
"I thought you only meant to seduce Mister Reaver," Mrs. Darby said with heavy exasperation. "I suppose I did my job too well. You married him? I never thought I would see the day that that man would truly fancy anyone but himself."
Sparrow wasn't sure what to do in this situation. Of course she would have to keep up the pretense, now. Perhaps after all of this was through, she could be honest with Mrs. Darby. She could tell her of her true identity, and she could explain that this was all a huge misunderstanding.
"He is not the man you think," Sparrow said. She wanted to say that he was much worse, but she didn't wish to worry Mrs. Darby, who was growing increasingly attached and protective of her, as a mother might treat a daughter. "He saved my life."
That had been true, at least.
"And he was probably the man that had endangered it in the first place," the stylist sighed.
Sparrow said nothing, but she was sure her face read clearly with the shame she was trying to mask.
"Oh, dear," said Mrs. Darby with regret lining her voice. "I do not mean to make you feel badly about it. I am sure he has his redeeming qualities. I've heard tales of his considerable…talent, so there's that at least." She gave a small chuckle as she readied a towel for Sparrow.
As Sparrow rose from the tub, Reaver appeared in the doorway, his keen eyes darting immediately to take her in completely.
Sparrow's first reaction was to dash to Mrs. Darby, to snatch the towel away and throw it over her nudity, but if they were to keep up this charade, she'd have to fight her instincts. She simply glanced at Reaver over her shoulder, shooting him a discreet, accusatory glare before softening her face and asking, "Are you so impatient that you can't wait for me to finish catching up with an old friend?"
"I wasn't aware you and she were acquainted, my dear," Reaver said, leaning against the doorframe, still scanning every inch of exposed ivory flesh with hungry, almost ferocious eyes, committing it to memory. "I suppose I've arrived just in time. I've come from the tailor with a new dress for our journey."
"Journey?" asked Mrs. Darby, raising a brow.
"We are off to honeymoon in Samarkand," Reaver said. "I've always had a weakness for exotic places, and I believe my beautiful Sparrow will be like my own personal oasis in the desert."
"Congratulations, are in order then," Mrs. Darby said humbly, though her tone suggested that it wasn't truly sincere. It was clear that she was worried about Sparrow and this strange union.
Sparrow fought the ever-present urge to reveal the charade, to tell the truth, but she did not know what consequences that might hold. Giving Mrs. Darby real information about herself might endanger her and her family, and she would hate for that to happen.
"If you would be so kind, madam," Reaver said. "The box containing the dress is in the other room."
"Of course," Mrs. Darby said handing the towel to Sparrow and giving a soft curtsy as she exited the room.
Reaver crossed to Sparrow in the blink of an eye, taking hold of her with the pretense of helping her dry her body with the towel Mrs. Darby had left. He helped her from the tub, pulling her close, but not so close that she would soak his clothes, which Sparrow noticed were new and slightly more understated than the regalia he'd arrived in. He looked to be an ordinary, though still extraordinarily handsome and well-dressed, man, and not the Pirate King of Bloodstone.
"I hadn't expected to find you nude before me quite so early in the day," he whispered, his voice thick with lust. "But what sane man could possibly be disappointed with all of this?" He leaned in, his breath flaring hot against the side of her neck.
A hot tingle worked its way down her spine, and but she resisted, thinking instead of anything else. She couldn't quite control the sensation working its way through her body, but at least she could steer the conversation in a less sensual direction. "So, you went to the tailor?"
She picked a neutral remark because she didn't know who was listening. She reached for the towel, grabbing an edge of it, but it was pulled firmly from her grip.
"Of course I did," Reaver replied, his hands continuing to towel her down, deliberately paying special attention to her breasts and backside. "I thought we might wear things that don't announce our true identities to everyone we encounter on the road. I—dressed as a pirate—and you—dressed as an adventurer, albeit a beautiful, remarkably enthralling adventurer would be terribly obvious, now wouldn't it?"
"I think I'm dry," she breathed, hoping her wobbly knees would continue to hold her up. As much as she disliked Reaver, she couldn't deny that he was handsome and magnetic, but she knew that she should not cast aside the knowledge of his treacherousness—no matter how much her insides curled with desire.
"Are you?" he murmured against her ear. His hands drifted downward, sweeping the towel down her stomach, making a slow decent.
"Ahem," Mrs. Darby announced herself before she entered the room, a garment box loaded in her arms.
Reaver's hand halted its course, and he handed the towel to Sparrow, allowing her to wrap it around her body.
She exhaled a shaky breath of what could have been interpreted as relief or frustration, depending on the perspective. To be honest, she wasn't quite sure which of the two it truly was. She wrapped the towel around her body, and she turned, offering a soft smile to Mrs. Darby.
"Thank you for retrieving it," she said, trying to gain a bit more composure. She was truly thankful for the interruption. She could only hope that she would continue to be so fortunate on the road. She couldn't give in. She refused to let herself succumb to him, no matter how badly her body burned with desire for him.
"It was no problem," Mrs. Darby said, sweeping past Reaver without a second glance, obviously having gotten over her fear of him in an instant. Perhaps she'd moved on from fear and straight on to prejudice. Perhaps he didn't believe Reaver to be good enough for Sparrow. She was undoubtedly right.
"I suppose I'll excuse myself," Reaver said, a slow, satisfied grin spreading across his face. Perhaps it had been his intention to leave her wanting—so stirred up that her skin nearly hummed from the rush of blood to the surface. "I will leave you ladies to continue as you were, and I will run a final errand before returning for you, Sparrow."
"Ah, yes," Sparrow replied, but she tried to play the part of eager lovebird by tacking on one final request: "Don't be too long."
Reaver merely smirked, his face still overtaken by that confidant aura. He chewed on his lip, as if he couldn't contain his glee, and he nodded to each woman—acting the gentleman—before leaving the room.
As Mrs. Darby unboxed the dress, she glanced up to Sparrow, and she said, "I suppose you are fortunate to have a man that looks at you that way, even if he is a notorious rake."
Sparrow said nothing, but she allowed Mrs. Darby to dress her. The bodice was leather, likely for protection as well as warmth, but the blouse underneath had a swooping bust line that had obviously been an aesthetic choice of Reaver's. The length of the skirt made it surprisingly sensible for travel either by foot or horseback, and she couldn't deny that its deep violet color suited her. She debated just wearing her own clothes, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing her in a dress of his choice, but why fight him over such a trivial thing?
"Now," Mrs. Darby said, turning Sparrow to face her. "You look lovely. You remind him every day how lucky he is to have you, understand? It's obvious you're too good for him, no matter how bloody handsome he is." She patted Sparrow gently on the cheek.
Sparrow knew that this journey would be complicated, and she knew that it might also be dangerous, but she needed it to distract her from everything else right now. With her divorce from Alex, and the impending battle with Lucien, why couldn't she escape for a while, even if she was escaping with someone that she had such mixed, complicated feelings for.
She tried to remind herself that this was all to persuade Reaver to fight on her side, instead of fleeing, as he always seemed to do. She was using The Dark Seal as leverage against him, and he had played right into her hand…Though, she could only hope that she wouldn't be playing right into his in the process.
A/N: The holidays were hectic for me, but here it is! MY UPDATE! It's been slow to come lately, but with some encouragement from my awesome beta reader (the ever incredible Angelacm) I have finished this chapter and started another. I can only hope that I can update more regularly from now on, and I hope that you guys enjoyed this one. Let me know what you think in a review, it would be much appreciated!