She opened her mouth to speak, but Patrik shook his head. As he staggered forward, Emma’s heart ached. The stubborn proud man, he had no business walking.
On shaky legs, Patrik strode into the clearing.
“By God’s eyes,” one of the knights gasped.
Confused, Emma turned.
The noble stared at him in disbelief. “Patrik?”
A combination of joy and disbelief swept the blond-haired man’s face. “You are”—he shook his head—“you are alive.”
Relief flickered upon the face of the knight with the scar, followed by anger. “By God’s eyes!” He jumped from his mount.
Joneta screamed.
The rebel tackled Patrik.
“Stop it,” Emma yelled.
The huge knight’s fist connected with Patrik’s already swollen face.
Patrik’s head jerked back, his eyes dark with pain.
The warrior drove his fist again into Patrik’s cheek.
Fear tore through Emma. “Stop it!”
As the fierce knight drew his fist back for yet another swing, Emma set Joneta on the ground.
Heedless of the man’s size, of the two other knights who were dismounting, she dove onto the warrior’s back, wrapped her arm around his neck. “Get off of him!” She tightened her grip and was rewarded by his gasp.
The black-haired man roared as he straightened. “Bedamned!” He tried to shake her off.
She held tight. “Leave Patrik be!”
“Get the cursed lass off of me!” the black-haired warrior boomed.
Hands, strong but gentle, clasped her arms.
Emma fought to break free. “He will kill Patrik!” she yelled as the two other men hauled her back.
The dark-haired man with the scar across his left cheek stood, cast a disgusted look at Patrik. “I did not kill him, I would not be so lucky. Vermin somehow manage to survive.”
The fury of his words terrified Emma. She struggled against the men’s hold. None of this was making any sense. “Patrik said you would help us.”
“Aye,” the black-haired man replied, his face raw with violence. “You. The lass.” He glared at where Patrik lay. “Him, I have far from made a decision about.”
“Why?” Emma asked, unsure of anything.
On a groan, Patrik arched a swollen brow. Painfilled eyes watched her. “Because,” he rasped, “they believed me dead.”
Chapter 12
Emma stared in disbelief at Patrik, who lay sprawled on the ground. “They believed you dead?”
“Aye,” Patrik rasped, “a fate I deserved.”
Her entire body quivering, she glanced at the massive warrior looming over Patrik. A muscle jumped beneath the scar carved across the knight’s left cheek. His mistaken belief that Patrik had died mattered not to her. He was severely injured and had lost too much blood. Whoever this knight was, he would not touch Patrik again.
