Mark of Love (Love Mark #3) - Linda Kage Page 0,58

her task of going through my things and “thinning out” my pack.

After quietly putting all my possessions back in the bag, where no one said a word about me getting rid of anything again, I sat back against a tree, rested my bound wrists against a propped-up knee, and waited. No idea what I waited for, but I thought I deserved a reward for my excessive patience.

I tried to strike up a friendly conversation—I really did—but Quilla didn’t quite get my jokes about Sir Render, the knight who was afraid to fight, or his friend, Sir Prize, the knight who liked to jump out from behind bushes and startle people. She told me to stop talking or she’d finish the job her aunt had started on my throat. I touched the wound on my neck, discovered it was still quite tender, and I decided to shut up.

My reward finally came about an hour later when Quilla finished the bread, and they packed it for travel so Melaina could leave me alone with my true love for the first time since we’d been properly—or the closest thing to proper as we were going to get—introduced.

“Okay, I’ll be back later,” Melaina announced as she climbed onto my mare.

“Have fun,” Quilla told her with a glare. “Don’t fall off your horse and die or anything.” Across the opposite side of the campsite as me, she plopped herself onto a tree stump, looking perfectly content to stay here, watching over me.

Alone.

The very thing she’d adamantly refused to do just last night.

My eyebrows lifted with curiosity. I glanced toward Melaina, who frowned suspiciously until her gaze met mine. Then she waggled her brows and waved her hands toward her niece as if encouraging me to woo Quilla to my heart’s content while she was gone.

I rolled my eyes, letting her know that was probably the last thing that was going to happen, no matter how much I’d prefer to do just that.

Quilla no longer being averse to the idea of staying alone with me was still a deep chasm away from her actually falling in love with me.

She would probably stab me if I went anywhere near her right now, and I’d say I had already filled my being-stabbed quota for the past two days. In fact, if I never saw a blade again, I’d probably be okay with that.

As soon as Melaina rode out of sight, Quilla pulled my journal from her pack.

I sat up straight, immediately on alert. So this was why she had wanted to stay behind. “What’re you doing?”

She ignored me. I huffed out a disgusted growl, which caused humor to spark from her emotions.

The damn woman enjoyed frustrating me. That was fine; I got a kick out of provoking her too. We were going to have plenty of fun bickering with and picking at each other far into our golden years, once we were finally living out our happily ever afters together, I could tell.

Watching her turn the book around, upside down, and then front to back, I let a smug grin hitch up at the corner of my mouth.

“Figure out how to open it yet?” I taunted.

She sent me a glare. “I don’t suppose you’d simply tell me,” she tried.

I chuckled, but answered, “Sure. Just get these damn things off me…” I lifted the cuffs holding my wrists together and shook them before returning my gaze to her. “And I’ll be an open book. Literally.”

With a sniff, she went back to ignoring me and examining the journal.

“What’s the point of the shackles, anyway?” I finally asked. “If you wanted me to stay with you, you could’ve just asked.”

Another glare vibrated from her as she refocused on me. “But I don’t want you here. And I told you already, you’re a prisoner. You have no control over what happens to your life until we’re done needing you. I might be whatever I am to your stupid mark, but you’re nothing to me. Understand? Nothing. You’re not our guest, or friend, or companion. You’re a simple prisoner. Got that, High Clifter?”

“Sure,” I answered easily, not quite able to stop grinning. She was just so freaking adorable when she was like this, all take-charge and obey-my-authority-or-I’ll-hurt-you. Made me hot and bothered just to watch the irate flush stain her cheeks. “And my name’s not High Clifter,” I added, hoping to goad her into saying Indigo.

She didn’t even look my way. “Don’t care.”

I frowned, only to grin again, countering her with, “Well, maybe