She tamped down the surge of anger. It would earn her naught and but increase the earl’s curiosity. Like Patrik, he was not a man to manipulate.
“When I first met you,” Emma said. “I believed you little resembled Sir Patrik.”
He arched a dark brow. “And now?”
“With the ample amount of arrogance you each display, you are indeed brothers.”
“He is arrogant, a fact you would do well to remember.” He swung upon his steed. “Prepare to leave.” Lord Grey cantered off.
“The arrogant braggart,” she muttered.
“And a man only a fool would dare to cross.”
At Patrik’s weak words, emotion swept her. She knelt by his side and brushed away strands of hair from his bruised face. “You are awake.” And he looked pitiful, but thank God he was alive. “Here.” She held the leather water pouch to his lips.
After several swallows, hand trembling, he pushed the pouch away. “I will take your words to Seathan as a compliment as well.”
Heat suffused her face. “You would.” Her heart squeezed at the weariness shrouding his features, the deep lines edged with pain.
“How . . . How long have I slept?”
“Most of the day,” Emma replied, “not that your shifting about is what I would consider sleep.”
Patrik eyed the ball of orange in the sky and grimaced. “Seathan must be worried to be departing so late.”
A worry well placed. “The English will return.”
“Aye, and this time with a larger contingent.” Lines of strain carved his face as he sat. “When King Edward learns of this day’s attack, ’twould not surprise me if the bastard follows Arnulf ’s twisted path and orders more Scots hanged.”
Emma remained silent, well aware of the English judge Arnulf of Southhampton’s recent despicable act. Panicked by the Scots uprising, the English judge had requested that all leading Scots attend an eyre-court in Ayre. As the Scots had entered the building they were seized, gagged, and strung from the rafters. To Southhampton’s glee, over three hundred and sixty Scots had fallen prey to his ploy.
Yes, when King Edward learned of Lord Grey’s men overpowering his meager English contingent, he would indeed give orders to slaughter more Scots, even if it means torching entire villages as he had in Berwick.
Sickened by the thought, she focused on Patrik, on a man determined to win his country’s freedom, regardless of the cost. “You must remain still. You have lost too much blood to be moving about.”
He settled into a more comfortable position. “And I will lose more with the travel ahead.” He reached out, pushed a wisp of hair from her face. “I should have told you about my brothers before this day, that they believed me dead.”
The regret in his voice moved her. “Why? We are but two people whose lives have crossed.” She fought to smother her emotions. “Two people who in the end will go their own way.”
“Will we?”
An ache built in Emma’s chest. “Yes,” she whispered. “It can be no other way.”
He lifted her chin. “Can it not?”
Emotion storming her, she broke free.
Patrik caught her hand. “Cristina.”
Guilt slid through her. “Leave it be.”
“I cannot. Bedamned, do you think that I wished this? That I wanted to find you? It makes no sense; a relationship with anyone at this point in my life is nae a notion I can entertain.”
His heartfelt words shook her further. Feeling too much, Emma tried to pull free.
He held tight.
“It will never work.”
