Her breath left her in a rush, the enormity of her realization stealing her every thought. Emma fought the panic, and more shocking, found need, a desperate ache that only Patrik could fill.
Tears welled up as she stared at a man who’d become too important, a man who should be her enemy, but against all odds had stolen her heart.
Except, he didn’t love her. Regret scraped her throat. At least one of them had sense. But he cared for her, dangerously so. No, she wouldn’t linger on his feelings for her, allow her mind to imagine a future between them, or the thought of children. But, for the first time in her life she wanted to.
Her heart aching with what never could be, Emma peered through a slit in the wall to the outside. Darkness clung to the sky, but hints of purple announced the oncoming day.
Regardless of what she wanted, this wasn’t her life, ’twas naught but a temporary part played.
One now ended.
Sir Cressingham awaited her delivery of the writ along with the information she’d gathered. However much betraying Patrik hurt, if she did not bring the Scottish treasurer what she’d promised, he would brand her a criminal and she would live the rest of her life on the run.
Emma withdrew, embracing the numbness, doubting she would ever feel whole again. With care, she searched for the leather-bound document amongst the heap of clothes at his side.
“Mmmm.”
She froze.
Patrik shifted, his arm reaching to where she’d lain moments before.
Her heart tore. Even in his sleep, he sought her.
Long seconds passed. A frown worked his face; then his body relaxed and he again began to snore.
With the oncoming dawn, his mind was beginning to wake. She must hurry. Pulse racing, Emma felt along the folds of his clothes.
A soft bump against Patrik’s thigh had him frowning. The haze in his mind began to clear. Cristina. Images of her body as he’d claimed her poured through him like warmed oil, of her exploration, of how she’d blossomed beneath his touch. He smiled. Aye, soon they’d leave, but he’d make love with her one last time.
He shoved the remnants of sleep aside and opened his eyes. Outlined by the candle flame, Cristina knelt beside his hip. God’s teeth, the lass would be the death of him, but aye, he’d die a happy man.
Her hand reached out.
His body hardened, ached for her touch, for the immense pleasure to come.
Instead, she reached past him and lifted his trews.
What in Hades? Patrik came fully alert.
With methodical thoroughness, she searched his garb. What was she looking for? He remembered her interest in the writ when it had fallen out of his pocket along the path.
Darkness edged his gut. “Cristina.”
She jumped, her gasp that of the guilty caught. With a nervous laugh, she settled back upon her knees. “I did not know you were awake.”
Cold silence settled between them, at odds with his erotic thoughts of moments before. “What were you searching for?”
“A tie to secure my hair.”
A lie, one betrayed by the nervousness in her voice. “I want the truth.”
“The truth?” she repeated, hurt and surprise etched upon her face. “I told you.” She hesitated. “Patrik, what is wrong? You are not making any sense.”
“On that we agree,” he replied, and prayed his suspicions were false.
“Mommy,” Joneta’s voice echoed from below, “I think they are awake.”
“’Tis early and you will not be waking them,” Marie said in a low voice.
