A Marq's Woman Ch. 12

*Thanks for waiting, guys(: The story changes from here on. Comments and votes are very welcome.

Kistle stared blankly at the pliant body on the ground. Even from a distance she could see the pool of blood expanding near its shoulders. A ragged breath tore through her lips as she took in the reality of what she had done.

She had killed a man.

Kistle murmured a quick prayer of forgiveness and gingerly stepped to the man's side. There was no doubt that he was dead; he lay unmoving even when she nudged his leg with the tip of her bare toes. His face was still hidden from her view by a fall of dark hair, and she thanked the Goddess that it was so. She didn't think she could look at the face of the man she had killed.

A sudden wave of nausea hit her and Kistle swallowed thickly. She had just taken a life. This man could have been anyone's father, son or friend, but she'd thought of none of that when she'd pressured the trigger. Her only thought had been of her daughter. She could not let Tess be harmed.

Now, she crouched down next to the man's prone body, feeling guilt wash over her. She reached out to probe for a pulse, but withdrew her hand when the heat from the man's body grazed her fingers. The warmth of his body only served to remind her that not long before, the man had been alive, and now lay dead because of her. A sob caught in her throat, but she closed her eyes and held herself in check. Then, slowly, she reached out again and skimmed her fingertips over the man's dark flesh.

A pulse! How could it be? Kistle wondered wildly.

She had killed him, had she not?

She rose to her feet and dashed into the house. As she plucked a lantern from the kitchen, she peered into Tessa's room to check if the little girl had been disturbed by the noise. When she saw that Tess slept soundly, she exited the house and brought the light of the lantern with her.

The golden glow illuminated the scene, making everything that had happened in the dark seem more real. Kistle's hands shook as she brought the light over the glint of the metal pistol on the earth, to the tips of the man's boots, to the Marq seal on his breeches…

Dread grew like a storm in her chest as she stood there with the lantern poised above the black and gold Marq seal. Memories flashed behind her lids even as fear permeated her skin. It couldn't be. No, it could not!

But moving the lantern higher proved that it could.

An anguished cry escaped her lips when she recognized the hard line of his jaw. Nay! her mind screamed. She had spent the past three years thinking that she was rid of him, and here he was again! Her heart contracted painfully at the memories and she had to blink back the unwanted tears that rose to her eyes. In front of her lay the man who had tried to kill her; the man who had taken her brutally. She hated him. She hated him with all her being, and yet… as she watched him take shallow, hitching breaths, she knew she could not let him die. Because then, she would not only be a murderer, she would be a heartless murderer.

She had to help him, do her best to keep him alive, only to prove to herself that she still had a heart.

Just then, something wet and sticky coated her toes and Kistle glanced down to find that his blood had formed a trail towards her. With a shudder, she stepped away from the trail and shone the lantern over the small puncture at the side of his head. The bullet had grazed his forehead, and Kistle grimaced when another glob of the red liquid oozed from the wound.

Kistle bit her lip, hands already moving to her shirt. She unbuttoned it and slung the material over Rade's boot. Then, using that as leverage, she pulled him into the house, ignoring the smear of blood he left in his wake.

Seeing his tall frame in her house made Kistle's being fill with unease. But she told herself think about nothing else as she cut his shirt off and cleaned the wound. She would consult her fears later, once there wasn't a dying man lying in her sitting area. In the worse situation, she mused darkly, I could take Tess and move to another planet. We have adequate coins and Tess is old enough. Anything, anything to escape this man once again. Why had he come for her? Did he want to hurt her for running away from him?

With an aggravated sigh, Kistle worked on her patient for what seemed like hours, then cleaning the wound gently. As a salve, she poured coffee powder over the wound and tied it up with a torn piece of an old shirt. He was still and unconscious throughout the procedure, though his pulse remained steady. Kistle felt stray spurts of guilt wrack her conscience as she pulled the final thread through the binding that she'd wrapped around his head, taking deep, gulping breaths to calm herself.

In the end, she told herself this: he had tried to kill her, and she had, in return, tried to kill him, and as the Goddess had said, 'What one gives is what one receives.' Thus, she had not committed a sin.

She had definitely not committed a sin.

*

"I should have let him die."

That harsh phrase, breathed against his neck, wasn't really something Rade would have chosen to wake up to. As he fought the murk that was trying to drag him under once again, he tried to fathom his surroundings. Years of war had taught him that being thought of as unconscious could give him a definite advantage.

Then, he felt the gentle hands on his head – a head he didn't know if he had any longer – and the incident came back to him vividly.

Kistle.

He remembered having read her note and then following her home on his own horse. He'd watched as she'd fed and washed little Tess, then put her to bed. And he'd smiled when she crawled in after her daughter, cuddling the beauty to herself. His two girls, he had thought, peeking into their room through the window. And then he'd moved backward and knocked a pail over.

She'd rushed outside in nothing less than a minute, a metal object in her hand. He hadn't understood what she'd meant when she'd said 'Leave or I will shoot', but he had felt the blinding pain a second after he'd moved toward her. He didn't understand exactly what she'd done to him, but he could not fault her for wanting to protect Tessa. It was what he would have done himself.

And now, she was poised above him, the backs of her fingers brushing his jaw as she worked on his head. He could smell her, the faint scent of wildflowers that was her unique smell. Her knee was also nestled against his arm, and her nearness – after all those years of separation – caused his heart to sing.

After months of searching, he had finally found her. It hadn't been very difficult to track her once he'd landed in Rasphere, for she had not changed her name. He had wandered through the larger cities first, using the Questball as his guide to find her scent. And the magical ball had led him to Brittle Creek within months.

He still remembered the first time he had seen her after three years of astute misery. She'd been on the old gray horse with her daughter seated in front of her. His eyes hadn't been able to leave her face, so beautiful in the sunlight, much more than his dreams could ever conjure. He had watched the way she smiled, the twin dimples appearing from the roundness of her cheeks, the way her lips moved as she talked to the little girl. And then, his eyes had wandered from her to the bundle of loveliness on her lap.

There weren't words to describe the myriad of emotions that had risen in him, for he knew instantly that the young one was his. She had his hair, the black, unruly locks curling about her shoulders and his skin, so dark against her mother's. His being had ached to have known his daughter, to have carried her when she was a wailing bundle. Rade remembered the tears that had risen to his eyes at the thought of Kistle running from him with his child in her womb, a child that he was supposed to protect. But he had not. Instead, he had driven her away, albeit unintentionally.

She had changed colossally – from the breeches that she wore, to the strength that he saw in her every movement. He had admired the way she was independent enough to run her own store, and often marveled at how she coped without the help of anyone.

Then, one day, he had caught sight of the little girl running in the fields behind the store, near the place where he'd decided to bed down for his stay. She had been playing with the mongrel, and when he'd called out to her, she frowned at him before cautiously approaching the sheltered area. The frown was so much like her mother's that Rade could do nothing but crack a smile.

He had befriended the little girl, and sooner or later, they'd struck a deal. If Tess would pass his presents to her mother, he would give her a sucking sweet each day. Tess had been quick to agree to that. And that was how it all began.

Rade knew that if he wanted Kistle back, he had to resort to gentlemanly measures. Thus, he bought her gifts. He knew that she loved flowers and feminine articles and that was exactly what he bought her. But the other day, as he was thinking of what to get her next, a thought had struck him, and he'd stayed awake all night to find rhyming words in order to pen a poem. But a sleepless night had definitely been worth the look of shock, awe and love in Kistle's eyes when she'd read it. It was that moment when he knew that he could not stand to be apart from her any longer. One month of watching her longingly had been enough. His heart could no longer take more torture. He had to see her, to tell her how he felt about her, to make her his.

His impatient nature was what that led him to the little cabin beside the creek, where he had gotten 'shot'. He still did not understand what had happened to him; he only understood that his shoulder hurt like the devil's own misery. At the back of his mind, he made a little note to inquire about this new form of defense weaponry, for it could be of use to his army. The Earthlings always managed to produce an interesting variety of goods, especially like the silky weave he'd purchased for Kistle.

Rade did not give away his conscious state even when her fingers gingerly touched his forehead to check for a fever. He nearly groaned at her touch, so familiar yet distant, that he ached to reach out and simply hold her until she accepted him again. But he knew he could not do that. He had to woo her slowly.

A sudden, sharp, blinding pain shot through his head as her fingertips rubbed against an extremely raw spot on his fresh wound, and Rade let out a startled whimper. He had never experienced such intense pain ever before in his life! The throbbing did not release its hold, wracking his large frame with stinging pain, until once again, he had to succumb to the peace of unconsciousness or resort to facing hell's own fury.

*

The sun was already up when he felt brave enough to risk exposing his eyes to light, in case it aggravated his wound. The pain was still there, a steady throb in the corner of his forehead, and he could feel the starch of the dried blood that encrusted the cloth that Kistle had bound him with.

His eyelids fluttered as he tried to raise them, thinking that there was nothing more in the world that he wanted to do now, other than to gaze into his love's eyes. But he knew that that want would come with a price. She would be angry, perhaps even bitter that he'd found her after she'd run from him, but when he told her of his need to be with her and their child, perhaps she would understand that he was sincere and sorry for what he had done…

He felt a soft nudge against his shoulder and he opened his eyes to find unblinking, violet orbs poised above him. Locks of dark hair fell to his jawline in a loving caress. Rade cracked a small smile and murmured a good morning to Tess.

In return, she chided him for sleeping so late.

He nearly chuckled at that, but soon realized that if his wound only pained him if he smiled too broadly or did anything to jar the muscles in his cheeks.

"Where's your mother?" he asked softly as he struggled to sit up. By the Gods, it felt like his arms and legs had gone to sleep!

"Mama's taking a bath," the little girl explained, settling back onto the floor and tilting her head to look up at her best friend, aside from Pip. She scooted closer to him and wrapped her chubby little arms around his waist. "Did you come to see me? Why are you wearing the cloth over your head?"

"Um…" Since he didn't have the answer to the last question, he decided to answer the first. "Yes, I did come to see you."

He noticed a cup of white liquid on the floor next to her, and frowned. "Why aren't you drinking your milk?" he asked as he squeezed her gently.

"I don't like milk," she replied.

"Well, you still have to drink it. Don't you want to grow up to be as strong as your…" It had been on the tip of his tongue to say 'Papa', but then he realized that he did not have the liberty to claim his daughter as kin. A deep sadness washed over him as he reached over for the cup of milk, wordlessly, and placed it to her lips. The task was made slightly difficult by the beginning few lances of pain from his head and heart.

"Drink."

Tess shook her head. She didn't like the taste of milk.

"For Mama? It would make her happy."

She seemed to think it over, her bright eyes twinkling beneath the sunlight. Then she sighed, admitting defeat. Tilting the cup, she drank as much milk as she could. When she was done, Rade set the empty cup on the kitchen table, from which he had been lying a few feet from. It was then that he noticed the gleaming piece of metal on it, the thing that Kistle had used to wound him the night before. His hand closed over it as he brought it nearer to examine it.

A sudden gasp made both parties turn toward the direction of the room. Kistle stood in the doorway, clad in a new pair of breeches and a shirt, her eyes wide and fearful. Rade noticed her swallow thickly.

"Tessa, come here," she said, her voice strained. Her eyes were trained on her daughter.

"But Mama…" Tess started and Kistle shot her a look that could've boiled cold water.

"Tess. Come here. Now." It was an order, and Tess knew not to cross her mother's orders. Resignedly, she wiggled away from her friend and came to her mother's side. She was surprised when her mother's fingers flew over her body, as though she was checking for a wound.

"Did he hurt you, sweetie? Are you all right?" Kistle asked the little girl, and was relieved when Tess nodded. She hugged her little girl to her chest, feeling the painful weight of fear lifting off her chest.

When she had entered the room to see the pistol in his hand, and her daughter by his side…

Rade felt his heart shattering at the sight of Kistle holding on to her daughter. He had known that she didn't trust him, but he hadn't realized that she didn't trust him to the extent that she thought he would harm his own child. Had he treated her so harshly?

"Why are you here?" Her voice was like steel, resounding through the room. Rade shut his eyes tightly, feeling his blood flow densely through his veins. He had been waiting three years for this moment, to speak to her again. And now… he did not know what to say, for he feared that he would not be able to aptly express what was in his heart.

"Kistle, please. Can we speak… in private?" He glanced down at Tessa, whose eyes were moving back and forth between the adults in the room. Biting his lip against the stinging pain in his scalp, Rade staggered to his feet.

Kistle's face mirrored her indecisiveness. She was surprised. He had asked her if she could speak privately with him, not ordered her. Kistle had been so sure that she would ask him to leave once he was well enough to walk, but now…

No, she did not want to speak to him in privacy, and yet, there was this small, hopeful part of her heart that did. It prodded at her soul, making her want something that she knew was impossible. Mayhap he had come to apologize? But as soon as the thought popped into her head, she knew it was utter foolishness. Rade was not the sort of man to grovel.

"Why are you here?" she asked again, unrelentingly. She hadn't let Tessa go, but clutched the little girl's arms tighter.

Rade's eyes flickered again to the girl that was between them. He did not want to discuss matters with his daughter in the room. Only the Gods knew how knowing the truth about him would scar her.

"Kistle," he said again, his voice pleading. "I would like to speak with you privately. Please."

Again, he was not ordering her. He was asking. Kistle frowned, unable to remember a time when he hadn't ordered her to do something. He also seemed different somehow… less commanding and more vulnerable. She didn't understand her train of thoughts, or why her heart had started tapping out a quicker rhythm, but she knelt down and asked Tess to run to the creek and fetch a small bucket of water. The little girl agreed reluctantly.

As soon as Tessa left the cabin, Kistle rounded in on Rade. He could see the fury in her eyes.

"Why? Isn't it enough that you destroyed the peace that I once had in my life? Why are you here again? What more do you want from me?" They were bitter words, and each one of them stung Rade like a slap to his face. Words clogged in his throat like vomit.

"I had to see you," he managed to choke out. Her eyes, those beautiful, beautiful eyes were now looking into his, unflinchingly, and with a strength that only a woman on her own could achieve. He was mesmerized by her, the way she stood her ground even when the odds were against her. He ached to take her into his arms, and swear his love for her. But it was not the time. Not yet.

"Why?" she shouted, throwing her hands into the air. "I left you because of the way you treated me. I was nothing more than an instrument of pleasure for you. You took me without my consent and then you tried to kill me…" Her voice cracked and she whirled away from him, placing her hands over her eyes, calming herself. "Why did you track me down? Did you not strip enough from me? Do you want my daughter now, as well?"

It was all Rade could do to keep his own temper from rising to the surface. He knew he needed to be level-headed to pick his words correctly. Somehow, he felt that this was his only chance to prove to Kistle that he was willing to try to be a better man for her, if she gave him the opportunity. Gods, he would do anything for her!

"Freina," he started, using the endearment that he'd given her the first time they'd met, "I came for you because I needed to speak with you, to tell you things that were in my heart before you left."

"And what were they? That you enjoyed hurting me?" Kistle scoffed, catching the brief flash of anger in his eyes before he tampered it.

"I never enjoyed that, Kistle. I… there is something about me that you must know." When she didn't interject, he continued, his words leaving his lips in a rush. "I was involved with a woman, Millicent, when I was younger. We were in love, or so I had thought, and I remember thinking that we were going to spend the rest of our lives together. That was until the day I found her in the gardens, cavorting with another man."

Kistle's eyes widened slightly. She had a faint idea as to where this was heading.

"Ever since that day, I am – was – wary of beautiful women. I liked them in my bed, yes, but I could never come to trust one of them ever again. She played me like a toy, Kistle," his voice became husky, and she recognized that he was confessing something to her that he had never told anyone else. "She broke my heart, and after that, I built a wall around it so that no one could get to it… until you.