Impossible! She had seen the writ yesterday. With gentle fingers, she again probed the woven fabric.
Nothing.
Possibilities raced through her mind. In the heat of battle, the fight with his brother, Lord Grey carrying Patrik to the wagon, or any number of events after, the writ might have slipped free. If so, had someone found it? Mayhap, one of the brothers? Regardless, it wasn’t here.
Now what? She glanced to where tender fingers of purple-edged light caressed the trees. No time remained. She must leave without the writ.
In silence she gathered the few items she would need. The dagger at her thigh weighed heavy, the water pouch secured around her waist more so. Emma wiped a tear from her eye. She was not abandoning Patrik. Sir Duncan had declared they would arrive soon, and a nurse waited to tend him.
Guilt had her glancing back. “I am sorry, Patrik. I can never be what you want.” Heart aching, she leaned forward, pressed a kiss upon his mouth. “I love you.” Before she changed her mind, she crept toward the rear of the wagon.
“Going somewhere, lass?”
At the gruff accusation in Sir Alexander’s voice, Emma stilled. She’d been so caught up in her decision, she’d not heard him riding up. Pulse racing, she slowly turned.
Eyes, hard and accusing, watched her from beside the wagon.
“I . . .”
“Go on,” he urged, his demand ripe with suspicion. “’Tis an explanation I find myself curious to hear.”
Each clop of hooves upon earth echoed as if a sentence of doom. She fought for calm. “Sir Duncan informed me we would soon reach your home.”
He arched a skeptical brow.
Think!“I was gathering my few belongings before we arrived.”
He snorted in disbelief. Hints of dawn exposed the hard angles of his face, the shadows lending a ferocious appeal to an already intimidating warrior. A man who by his actions reminded her so much of Patrik.
However much Sir Alexander cursed Patrik, he loved him and would protect him with his life.
The ball of fear inside softened. “If possible,” she said against the backdrop of jolts and bumps, “I wish to stay with Patrik as he recovers.”
“Aye, you will stay with us, lass. As for exactly where, that is another matter.”
Emma edged back to settle next to Patrik, refused to let Sir Alexander see her fear. “He is unconscious.”
“He will be tended to.” Shrewd eyes studied her. “I know not what game you play, but know this, ’tis dangerous.”
“I play no game.”
“That I believe. Whatever you are about,” he said, his burr deep, “’tis very real.”
She struggled for calm. He suspected that she’d tried to slip from the wagon.
Long moments passed. With the flare of his nostrils, Sir Alexander gave her a dismissive look, then continued to ride alongside the wagon, a harsh set to his jaw.
Emma glanced to the other side of the wagon where Joneta and her mother slept. A fool she’d been for allowing her heart to make her linger. No more. At the first opportunity, she would escape.
Once the Scots discovered her true identity, nothing would save her. Not even Patrik’s self-professed feelings.
In the gray-smeared morning sky a soft mist began to fall. An air of expectancy built, a foreboding of something immense. The path before them narrowed, either side framed by dense, light-smothering pines. The clop of hooves echoed around her. The trail grew steeper, angling, carving its way up as if ascending to the heavens.
A gentle breeze whispered to life. The scent of wild herbs filled the air, a potent, clean aroma that rolled through her every breath. Through the gloom within the dense forest a break appeared.
The wagon creaked forward, hesitated as it moved over uneven ground. As they climbed higher, the dense swath of trees split like a door opening.
Her breath caught and Emma could only stare. Below, an immense lake curved within the time-worn land, its shores shrouded by lush green and the hills surrounding it clothed by the dense forest. At the southern tip jutted a peninsula. Forged upon its sturdy strip, a castle rose in proud defiance. A castle that could have been taken from the pages of King Arthur. A castle that could protect as well as imprison.
