Emma laid her hand upon Patrik’s brow. It was still too warm, but dry. The fever had subsided, and his face held a tinge of color. Thank God. At the slide of the door, she scrambled from the bed.
A slender woman with whiskey-colored hair stepped inside, followed by Lady Nichola.
“My lady.” Emma tugged to straighten her rumpled gown, gave up. “I . . .” How did one explain the obvious? Warmth slid up her cheeks. “I fell asleep.”
Tenderness touched Lady Nichola’s face. “That my husband and I saw last night when we came to check upon Patrik. You appeared so exhausted, I had not the heart to disturb you.” Nichola nodded to the woman at her side. “Lady Isabel, this is Mistress Emma Astyn.”
Curious amber eyes studied her. “I have heard much of you and regret we have not been introduced until now. Sir Duncan is my husband.”
Emma recalled seeing the woman within the courtyard when she’d first arrived.
“The healer will be here shortly,” Lady Nichola said.
The reason she’d come was to wake Emma and spare her the further embarrassment of being found in Patrik’s bed. “My thanks.” The last haze of sleep faded, and with that clarity and the unspoken determination upon their faces, she understood. “But you have come to ask questions?”
“I have,” Lady Nichola said. “We know you returned for Patrik, but why did you leave behind the writ?”
Regret swept Emma as she glanced from one woman to the other. “Because I am no longer the person Sir Cressingham hired. Had you of known me over the years, you would not have believed me capable of change. Then I met Patrik.” Tears formed in her eyes; she damned them, fought to push them back. “Lady Nichola, I understand your distrust and dislike for Patrik, but I also understand his reasons. He is a good man. Though battered, his heart is enormous. He does nothing by halves, loves with a fierceness I have never seen.”
Lady Isabel took Lady Nichola’s hand in support.
Alexander’s wife gave her sister-in-law a thankful smile, and then turned to Emma. “I admit having Patrik at Lochshire Castle is difficult, but yester eve he took an arrow meant for Alexander. He saved my husband’s life.” Gray eyes narrowed with conviction. “Do you know why? Because Patrik wanted me to be happy, for Alexander to have his family.” Tears blurred her eyes. “I am not proud of my fear, or of wishing him again dead, but though anger and hurt still well inside me, Patrik has proven that he is sincere.”
Emma stilled. “You will give him another chance?”
“Yes,” Nichola whispered.
The door slipped open. The earl’s wife entered.
Emma curtsied. “Lady Linet.”
“Mistress Emma.” Lord Grey’s wife nodded to the two other women, then glanced at the bed. “How fares Patrik?”
“His fever has broken,” Emma replied.
Relief swept Lady Linet’s face. “Thank God. How do you fare, Mistress Emma?”
“Fine, my lady.”
The scrape of steps had them all looking back. The healer, carrying a basket of herbs, stepped inside. Wizened eyes opened with surprise, then landed on Patrik as he lay sound asleep.
“His fever has broken,” Emma said.
Relief swept the aged lines of the healer’s face. “A good sign. It appears as if he will live.”
Sun streamed across the morning sky like a wash of promises made, of hope given. Emma clutched the hewn stone beneath her hand at Patrik’s window. Hope that Lord Grey had given her. An unlikely source, considering only days before he’d viewed her as his enemy.
But, last eve he, his brothers, and Lord Monceaux had questioned her extensively about the English. After she’d replied to everything they’d asked, and then had informed them of more, the earl had dismissed all within the chamber but her.
Alone, Lord Grey had warned her that after the English secrets she’d exposed, Sir Cressingham would pay handsomely to see her dead. A warning she’d acknowledged. Then he’d surprised her by asking what she wanted to do. Caught off guard, she’d blurted her wish to help orphans. Surprise had flickered in his gaze, but he’d agreed to help.
Sadness sifted through her as she withdrew her hand from the stone. However much she wanted to remain at Lochshire Castle, to be with Patrik, her lies had severed such a choice. Neither could she keep Patrik’s stone, regardless of the grandmother’s wishes, or of her own desire. A sense of loss still filled her without the halved gemstone on her person, but ’twas right to have returned it to the tower chamber early this morning.
The snort of horses echoed from below.
Emma looked out the window. Near the stable, a large bay stood readied, a roan mare nearby. How ironic that Sir Alexander would escort her to the abbey a day’s ride north. She could live there in peace, could fulfill her dreams of helping the children whose lives war had shattered. Except, her heart would remain here with Patrik.
She fought back tears as she took in Patrik sleeping peacefully upon his bed. He’d continued to improve since yesterday morning. With his fever broken, soon he would awaken. ’Twas best if she was long gone before then.
