Their voices faded as they passed, but Patrik remained still. He’d counted five men. Had he been alone, he would have slain the lot.
Precious seconds passed.
Silence.
Convinced the knights had left, he sheathed his dagger, his body hard from the intimate contact. He grimaced. Focus on the danger, lad.
Patrik shifted to her side. “They are gone.”
Emerald eyes turned on him, dark, etched with concern. “Will we go back to the cave?”
“Nay.” He understood her worry, but he knew the land about them. Nor would he be fool enough to linger and be tempted to touch her further. “We will travel deeper into the woods before turning north.”
“North? Your friends live in the Highlands?”
He shook his head. “’Tis a safer route.”
Cristina hesitated; then her hand relaxed within his, her eyes brimming with trust. “When will we leave?”
He watched her mouth, the subtle movement, imagined plundering the soft depths. “Now.” Patrik pushed to his feet, helped her stand, his blood racing hot. Bedamned, he ought not to think of the lass, but the danger at hand.
Her eyes met his. Awareness flared.
Heat sliced through him.
“Are we not leaving?”
The huskiness of her burr drew him. “’Twould be wise.”
She didn’t move.
Blast it, did she have to stare at him with that destroying mix of need and innocence? Innocence? Nay. Married she’d been and lain with a man many a night, tasted the pleasures of the joining.
So why did he hesitate? They needed to leave, to go before he did something foolish—like kiss her.
Sunlight slicked the soft glisten of her mouth.
Bedamned! As if guided, his hands cupped her face. “Tell me you want me to stop.”
Her lower lip trembled. “And if I did, ’twould be a lie.”
On a groan Patrik covered her mouth. Heat, it poured through him at her sultry taste. He drew out the kiss, savored the searing intensity. At her shudder he pulled her against him, trailed his hand from her face to the curve of her neck, slanted his mouth and took the kiss deeper.
She moaned as her body pressed against him, shuddered.
“Ah, lass,” he murmured as he nibbled along the curve of her jaw. However much he wanted to make love with her, this was neither the time, nor the place. Blood pounding hot, Patrik lifted his head.
A blush heated her face. “I—” She glanced to the side. Frowned. “What is that?”
Patrik looked over.
A pace away, sprawled within the tangle of grass and leaves lay the writ.
Chapter 5
Saint’s breath! With his blood pounding hot, the haze of need still searing his blood, Patrik pulled away, grasped the leather-bound parchment and shoved it out of sight.
Cristina sat up and glanced toward where he’d stowed the writ with a frown. “What is that?” she repeated.
