Face red, Sir Cressingham shoved himself up from his oversized gilded seat and waddled toward where the guards held her tight. Lids puffed, jowls drawn down by fat, he halted a pace away. “Where is the writ?”
“I found none.”
“You lie,” Sir Cressingham boomed.
Through the roar of pain she shook her head. “’Tis the truth. I swear it.”
Malice flared within his puffy eyes. “Emma Astyn, you are acclaimed as one of England’s top mercenaries, a woman who has never failed in a mission, a woman I paid a king’s ransom to befriendDubh Duer. Now, after a setup to meet with Sir Patrik Cleary that left four of my knights dead, you dare tell me you have failed?” His hand shot out.
Pain exploded in her skull.
“Where is he!”
“De-Dead,” she replied, sinking into the welcome blackness. Cold water splashed her face. She gasped, fought the flood of pain.
Sir Cressingham hauled her to him. “You will find no reprieve.”
A commotion outside had her turning. Vision blurring, she fought to focus.
Chubby hands shoved Emma toward the guards.
A knight shoved open the door. “Sir Cressingham, we have caughtDubh Duer.”
No! She’d left him asleep in Lochshire Castle. Horror flooded her as they hauled Patrik inside, his body slumped against the guards who carried him, his face a mass of purple where their fists had pummeled his flesh.
“Patrik!” She’d not meant to talk, to expose that she cared.
Sir Cressingham’s eyes narrowed on her. “He seems not dead to me. What other lies have you told me?”
“Cristina, wh-what is going on?” Patrik rasped.
“It seems,” Sir Cressingham said, “Emma has played us both.”
Patrik frowned. “Emma?”
Sir Cressingham grunted. “For a man known for his wit, ’twould seem you are a fool.”
Confusion marred Patrik’s face, his eyes a haze of pain.
“Emma, dear,” Sir Cressingham drawled, “tell him.”
The words curdled in her throat. Please, let Patrik not learn the truth this way.
Silence.
“Then allow me to introduce you,” Sir Cressingham said, venom dripping from his every word. “Meet Emma Astyn—”
Patrik’s face paled. “A woman acclaimed as one of England’s top mercenaries.”
Chapter 19
God in heaven no! Emma ached at Patrik’s stricken expression, struggled to somehow try to explain. She had never meant for him to learn the truth. “I am so sorry! Patrik—”
“Silence her!” Sir Cressingham ordered.
A guard cupped her mouth, another held her secure.
Disbelief carved every line of Patrik’s face. “Na-Nae Scottish?”
