“Why, because you will not allow it?”
She welcomed the rush of anger. “Yes.”
Silence fell between them.
Nerves trembled through Emma as she met his gaze. “Now what?”
As if he bloody knew? Patrik dropped his hand, unsure whether he was angry at himself for pushing her or frustrated that Cristina wouldn’t even consider their future. God knew when they made love, the feelings she inspired matched none he’d ever experienced.
Why was he pressing her? Had he not warned himself throughout their journey that a relationship between them was not possible? At least one of them had more brains than an ass.
Weariness settled over him. “Now what?” Patrik repeated, “I know not.” Aye, he was wrong to push her, to voice his desires. “My brothers will want an explanation of why I am alive—it is the least they deserve.”
Emerald eyes watched him. “Sir Alexander said you tried to kill his wife.”
The pain of that day a year ago squeezed in his chest. Consumed by hatred, by a brutal past, he’d focused on Lady Nichola’s nationality, had overlooked the genuine woman within. She was fair, honest, and loved his brother, Alexander.
Cristina shook her head. “No, you have already talked too much. You need to rest.”
The excuse tempted him to remain silent, but he was not a coward. “It is true. I tried to kill Alexander’s wife, Nichola, because I was trying to protect him.”
“Protect Sir Alexander from a woman?” Disbelief and confusion cradled her words.
He nodded. “As odd as it seems, because the lass is English.”
“English?” Her face paled. Frowning, she glanced toward where Alexander rode. “I-I cannot believe he would wed an Englishwoman.”
Patrik grunted. “If asked prior to meeting the lass, my brother would have agreed. Alexander had traveled to England to abduct her brother, a wealthy lord. When he arrived at their home, her brother was away. With the rebels desperate for coin and believing the siblings close, Alexander abducted Lady Nichola instead.”
“He marriedhis captive?”
The shock on her face matched his own when he’d realized Alexander was falling in love with the lass.
“Aye.”
“But why did you hate her? ’Twas not her fault she was English.”
Patrik sighed. “Aye, a lesson I learned too late.” He’d realized that truth during the months it had taken to recover from his near-fatal wound. He took Cristina’s hand, drew it to his chest. “When I was eight summers, my family was attacked by the English. I managed to escape.” And had damned himself for having survived ever since.
“You lost your entire family?”
He swallowed hard, still haunted by the spilling blood, the screams of his family as they lay dying. “Aye.”
“Did you know the MacGruders before?”
“My father saved the life of the MacGruder brothers’ mother in a raid,” Patrik explained. “After my parents were killed, when the MacGruders learned of the murders, they adopted me as their own, gave me their last name. I included my own as well, Patrik Cleary MacGruder. Or, did until this year past.”
Face pale, she shook her head. “Oh God, I am so sorry.”
He curled his fingers over her hand. “Since then, many years have passed.”
“But one does not forget.”
Her somber words echoed between them. Aye, having grown up in an orphanage, then marrying a loveless bastard who’d taken advantage of her tattered emotions, she would understand the misery of loss.
“But,” she said, “that does not explain why your brothers believed you dead.”
“It does not.” He swallowed hard, regretting his actions. “Caught up in his feelings for Lady Nichola, who was then Alexander’s captive, my brother ignored my warning that because she was English, she was unworthy of his love. So, I arranged for Lady Nichola to believe she could escape. That night, when she slipped from Lochshire Castle, I followed with the intent of preventing Alexander from ever marrying the lass.”
