She tossed her head, a move for a role played, and despised her deception. “’Tis arrogant you are.”
“Am I?” He stroked the pad of his thumb over her lower lip. “Tell me, lass, do I matter naught to you?”
Her carefully chosen words fell away. “Patrik—” “Blast it. My feelings cannot be of import. I have a duty.”
As did she, but her role as a mercenary lay in shameful tatters. Somehow, within the tangle of a day, they’d connected far beyond what she could have ever imagined. Their troubled pasts, both blackened by tragedy and horror, had bonded them in a way that breeched their defenses.
Emma remained silent as he turned and strode forward. Patrik didn’t understand ’twas her he would hate. No, hate was too kind a word. After their kiss and supposed exchange of trust, he would curse her to Hades and bid her soul burn for an eternity.
Regret churned within. She had given her word to complete this mission. If she were to walk away, Sir Cressingham’s fury would know no bounds. A cold and vicious man, he would find her, whatever it took. For the rest of her life, she would be on the run.
In silence she followed Patrik, trying to lose her worries in the blur of green, the rich scent of forest etched with pine. Flickers of sunlight lit the path ahead, lending innocence to this day.
Innocence? As if she or Patrik could pretend such.
The rush of water echoed in the distance. With each step the tumble increased until it was a thunderous roar and the air grew heavy, rich with the taste of moisture.
As they rounded the next bend, several large boulders came into view. Mist hung above the stone, embracing the time-worn rock in a slick sheath.
Emma shielded her eyes as she looked up. “A waterfall ?”
“Aye.”
Intrigued by the vertical rush and the cloud of resultant mist, she moved to his side. “How long will it take us to walk around?”
“We will not.” He stepped up on the nearest boulder, held out his hand.
Emma hesitated.
“Do you trust me?”
Did she really have a choice? Emma laid her hand within his, savoring his touch, wishing her reason for being with him was different.
“Watch out, the rocks are slippery.”
With care they picked their way up the slick tumble of rock, over the tree limbs daring to weave amongst the rough stone.
“Hold on.” He hauled her onto a ledge.
The roll of white below collided with the black, the angry churn potent in its force. “It is magnif icent,” she yelled into his ear.
Patrik gave her hand a gentle squeeze, then led her toward the massive downpour. Water sloshed near her feet and mist billowed around her like a cloud. With her in tow, he moved parallel to the rushing water, then angled toward a smaller curtain. He halted and lifted a nearby thin, flat stone the size of a cauldron and held it over their heads.
“Hold on,” he shouted.
Was he insane? They would be washed over the side! “I—”
He tugged her with him as he stepped into the spewing rush. Water pounded, muted all but her panic. She closed her eyes as she stepped forward and braced herself to be swept away, to plunge down the sheer cliffs to her death.
Instead, with his grip steady against hers, her foot settled upon dry stone. Pulse racing, she opened her eyes. Water poured before her in a thunder of white, a powerful curtain racing past.
“It is the back of the falls!” she yelled with delight.
A smile widened his face. He nodded and set the flat stone aside.
Emma turned. Sunlight poked through the edge of the falls, the mist splintering the light into a rainbow of colors that splashed upon the jagged rock. She laughed out loud. It was truly amazing.
And another rebel hideout.
