She counted each ring. Sext, time for the prayers at midday. Prayers? How dare she think of God after the numerous lies she’d told Patrik. But if she asked Patrik for forgiveness, would he give it?
A tear slid down her cheek.
No, she’d earned nothing but Patrik’s hatred. Long moments passed. Though it would change naught, she found it important to offer Patrik her confession.
Golden rays filled the room as she took his hand, clasping it within her own. “I know not how to begin. Many a lie I have told you since our first meeting.” She blew out a breath. “A meeting I planned.”
Her heart ached as she told how she’d plotted with the English knights, how she’d used Patrik’s hatred of the English. She had realized that, caught up in his outrage at a Scottish woman being raped, he would save her without question, his protectiveness wiping away his normal wariness of a stranger.
“Except, I was not supposed to fall in love with you.” Warmth slid through her at the memories of his touch. And, shame. “Patrik, I was never married. Gyles never existed. Nor was I a virgin, because in my youth, I was raped.” She steadied herself, pushed on. “The man whom I cherished was Father Lawrenz, a priest I met while living in the orphanage. He was a beacon of light and for the first time in my life, I had begun to believe good existed, and from the lessons he taught, believed that I could build a life, mayhap even find love.” She swallowed hard. “One day as I had hurried to meet Father Lawrenz, I cut through an alley. I found him dead. Murdered for a pence.”
Dark memories assailed her, but she shoved them away. She fought not to drown in the horrors of her past.
“At that moment, as he lay before me within a puddle of his own blood, hope fled. I realized that no one would protect me but myself. And I vowed never to care for anyone again, ever. A vow I kept—until you.” She wiped away a tear. “And though you may not believe it, I have dreams. Dreams that before I met you I would not have dared.”
A smile wavered upon her mouth as images shimmered in her mind. “I wish to help orphans, to show them that good exists, to teach them as Father Lawrenz did me, as well as give them hope.” Her smile fell. “I understand dreams of our life together, of our children, never will be.” She fought for composure. “But for a moment, however fragile, I held them. For that I thank you.”
Her entire body trembling, Emma leaned forward, pressed a soft kiss upon Patrik’s mouth. “I love you, Patrik Cleary MacGruder. Though you will not remember my words, I give them to you.” Exhausted, she leaned back, sniffed. “Look at me. I am supposed to be sharing stories to make you sleep, yet I ramble as if an old woman lost.”
She was hungry for sleep, but for Patrik’s sake, she forced herself to stay awake. For the remainder of the day, she shared tales she’d heard from bards as well as those of intriguing sights seen in her travels.
Beneath the orange-red rays of sunset, Patrik’s pallor remained the same, but that he continued to sleep, to give his body much-needed rest, bolstered her hope.
A scrape of the door had Emma turning.
Lord Grey entered, gestured for her to remain seated. “How does he fare?”
“He still sleeps, my lord.”
The earl scanned his brother’s face, nodded. “You are exhausted. My family will take turns sitting with Patrik throughout the night. You are free to return to your bed.”
Emma’s throat tightened. Once Patrik regained his health, if that miracle occurred, he would demand that she leave. “If possible, my lord, I would like to remain.”
The powerful noble studied her a long moment, glanced at Patrik, who quietly slept. “Though I hesitate to allow you such favor, for this night, if your presence allows him to rest, mayhap ’tis for the best.” With a solemn nod, he departed.
Humbled, she swallowed hard. She would savor this time, for there would come no other.
Hours passed. With the night seeping into the sky, Patrik began to shift about.
Emma lifted the blanket from where he’d cast it off, tucked it around him with a gentle hand. “Rest now.”
“I . . .” Eyes closed, Patrik began to shift, his words undecipherable.
“Lie still,” she urged.
His body jerked; his eyes moved quickly beneath his lids.
“Patrik, please remain still. You will loosen your bandages.”
He twisted on the bed.
Emma glanced at the door. Should she send for his brothers? If she did, she would never see Patrik again. Desperate, praying it helped, she sat upon the bed, then lay beside him.
A muttered curse stumbled from his lips; he turned his head, then slowly, he began to settle.
She snuggled closer, his warmth enveloping her. When he remained sleeping, Emma closed her eyes with a thankful sigh and succumbed to the exhaustion weighing upon her mind.
Sunlight flooded her lids and Emma winced. With a start she opened her eyes. Morning sun filled the room. She sat up. God in heaven, she’d slept beside Patrik the entire night! She glanced toward the door. What had his brothers or their wives thought? Or, had they seen her?
