She was so tiny in this big forest, so...
Untrustworthy. And still, he couldn’t leave her. He uttered another curse and dismounted. He knew she was more than capable of taking care of herself. Yet, that thought didn’t stop the silly, honorable notion that whirled inside of him. He needed to protect her. Four men had attacked them. Even she could not fight off four men. Besides, who knew what else lurked in these woods?
He could not leave her alone.
She said nothing as he paused before her. And that was a good thing. She watched as he took the saddlebags from the horse and removed the saddle. She followed as he stalked across the clearing and sat heavily beneath the tree where they had just kissed.
He closed his eyes.
“Marcus…” she said softly.
“No,” he said, holding up a finger to stop her. “No. Not another word.”
She nodded and retreated, almost folding in on herself.
Guilt slammed down on him. Damn! Why did he feel guilty? What did he have to feel guilty about? She was the one who left the trail for those men who meant to kill them. No. No, he refused to feel an ounce of remorse. He crossed his arms. Not one ounce.
He opened an eye slightly and stared as she settled beneath the trunk of a tree across from him.
Not one ounce, he repeated, ignoring the heaviness on his shoulders.
The next morning, they rode to the road. Sage knew Marcus was watching for anyone following them, as he should be.
She had barely slept the entire night. She had been certain she would wake to find him gone. But he had not left her.
He hadn’t said a word to her all morning. He had handed her half a loaf of bread and indicated the horse without looking at her.
It made her sad that she had betrayed his confidence. Now, they travelled together, and it was torture. She could feel his arms around her as they gripped the reins. She could feel his strong thighs along hers.
Torture.
She didn’t know how to make it up to him. She didn’t know what to do to make it right, what to say.
It wasn’t long after they set out that the horse started to limp on its front right hoof. Sage noticed the change in gate immediately. Marcus pulled the horse to a stop and dismounted. Sage slid from the horse as well.
He walked to the front of the horse, running his hands down it and over the knee before lifting the leg to inspect his hoof. “Damn it,” he muttered.
“What is it?” Sage asked, worried but hoping she could somehow help. These were the first words they had spoken all morning.
“The shoe has come off.” He stood up and looked first one way and then the other. “We’ll have to walk to le Carla and have the blacksmith reshoe him.”
Le Carla.Tingles raced up her spine. She and her family had been to the town many times. She knew people there. “Marcus,” she started to admit the fact.
Marcus shook his head and held up his hand. “No more lies,” he said.
“But…”
“No,” he commanded and stared at her for a long moment. “We will go our separate ways in le Carla.”
Sadness swept over her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”
“You should have,” he sternly said as he took the reins and began walking down the dirt road.
Misery swept through her like a gust of wind. He no longer wanted her with him. She forced her mind from the thought and searched for something else to dwell on. The book. It was easier, safer to concentrate on that than her wretched feelings. She only wished she could decode it before Marcus left. She wished she could prove herself to him.
She watched the road beneath her feet as they walked, thinking of their progress in decoding it. Marcus’s first suggestion of “last to first” was good, but she didn’t believe it fit. When she had substituted the letters, none of the new words made sense. They weren’t words. Just a jumble of letters. Besides, what did “last to first” have to do with treasure?
They came to a crossroad, and Marcus walked to the north.
