Damn him. “Do not make this harder than it already is.”
His gaze darkened, hardened to that of a predator. He caught her face in his hands. “It is already too late.”
Chapter 7
Cristina shook her head.
Furious she’d deny what existed between them, Patrik caught her mouth in a demanding kiss. When she finally kissed him back, he pulled away, his blood pounding hot.
“Regardless of what either of us wants, thisisabout us.” He spun on his heel, strode up the narrow path and muttered a curse. Aye, he should have said naught. She was right, he could offer her nothing, a fact that grated upon him.
Throughout the day, he kept their pace steady. The roll of the rugged terrain was demanding, the summer heat forcing them to halt to refill his water pouch in nearby streams many times over.
Hours later, the rough path they followed narrowed, the slide of land to his left making the way treacherous but not impossible. Once they passed this narrow gap, naught except a field lay between them and his friends. After he explained the situation to them, he’d immediately depart to deliver the writ.
A fact he’d withheld from Cristina.
The slap of the impending loss stunned him. Focus, lad. Now is not the time to be thinking of the lass, or of what never can be.
An overhang of trees shaded the path ahead, the shadows a cool relief from the late afternoon sun. Wind tumbled in the forest as sunlight spilled through the leaves like gemstones.
A quiet thump sounded nearby.
Patrik halted, held up his hand.
“What is it?” Cristina asked as she worked to catch her breath.
He scoured the trees and rocks ahead. “I heard something.” He gestured to a clump of bushes. “Hide behind them. Once I am sure no one is about, I will return.”
She hesitated. “Be safe.”
“You worry for me?”
A blush touched her cheek. “Mayhap.”
He caressed his thumb across the smear of dirt upon her chin, too aware of the day’s passing, the short time left before he must depart and never see her again.
On a sigh he dropped his hand. “Go.”
She gave a solemn nod, then slipped into the thicket.
Patrik took in the sky, the wash of orange smeared by hints of red. Soon the sun would set. If someone was up ahead, he needed to hurry while he could still see.
Accompanied by the rattle of the leaves, he crept forward.
A low murmur echoed ahead.
Were the bloody English holed up for the night? Or was it his brothers, who knew these hills and might be on a rebel mission?
Regret squeezed his chest. If his brothers indeed lay ahead, however much he wished to see them, he would take Cristina and backtrack to another route. He refused to allow her to witness what surely would be an angry confrontation.
Angry? Nay, after his trying to kill Alexander’s wife, Nichola, his brother would want him dead.
This time for good.
With one last glance at where Cristina hid, he edged closer. Limbs shivered above him, the rich scent of earth and forest thick in each breath.
A horse snorted in the distance. Another man’s voice reached him, this time closer.
