“Isabel!” Duncan jumped from his mount and sprinted toward a beautiful woman, her face framed by hair the color of aged whiskey. His youngest brother caught and whirled the woman around. With her face alight with laughter, he captured her mouth, the deep bond between them further evidence of the time Patrik had lost.
“Alexander!”
At the familiar, lyrical English accent, Patrik stilled. Nichola. While he’d lain in bed recovering, he’d replayed his poor decisions, how his hatred had prevented his mind from seeing the good within her.
Now,his destinyarrived.
Would she indeed be able to forgive him? With a prayer on his lips, Patrik turned.
Auburn hair slipped from Nichola’s finely woven braid as she rushed toward Alexander, her smile full of love, the joy of a marriage strong.
Knights reunited with their families, squires led horses toward the stable, and children danced at their mothers’ sides waiting to see their fathers.
Everything around Patrik faded. In gut-wrenching fascination, he watched for the moment Nichola noticed his existence, for the instant when the joy upon her face shattered.
The crowd parted as Nichola ran to her husband. As she neared, in a smooth move, Alexander leaned down and swept his wife up on his steed to claim her mouth.
“Patrik.” Cristina’s voice echoed as if a league away. She didn’t understand the enormity of this moment. Couldn’t.
“You are their family,” Cristina said.
Throat dry, he shook his head. “After what I have done,” he whispered, “I am nothing.”
As if to back his words, Alexander broke the kiss, whispered in his wife’s ear.
Nichola froze. Her fingers clasped his shoulders and a shudder rippled through her lithe form. Then, with time-wrenching slowness, her face lifted, turned toward Patrik, her amber eyes dark.
As if time had been erased, the past tumbled back.
The exact day.
The exact hour.
“No!” Nichola tried to jump to the ground.
Alexander held tight. “Steady, lass,” he urged, shooting Patrik a warning glance.
“Get him out of here,” Nichola demanded.
The surrounding crowd fell silent. Murmurs swept through the onlookers.
“He will harm no one,” Alexander stated.
“He will!” Nichola struggled to jump to the ground.
Alexander held tight.
“He will try to kill me. What of our son? He cannot be trusted!”
Her angry words sliced Patrik’s soul. A son? Alexander had not told him about a child. What else had he withheld? The last fragment of hope for Nichola’s forgiveness blackened to wisps of ash.
She jerked, fought to pull away. “Release me!”
Alexander caught her face. “I am taking you inside. Trust me, wife, you are safe.” Tenderness guided his movements as he dismounted.
No! Panic shot through Patrik as Alexander set his wife on the ground and started toward the keep. This was his only opportunity to plead for forgiveness. Once Nichola went inside, she would never allow him to see her again. Though she might never forgive him, he had to try.
“Nichola!” Patrik’s raw voice cleaved the silence like an ill-honed sword.
