She swallowed, and her cheeks flamed.
“It was my fault, John,” Christian said, stepping to Willow’s side. “We were practicing, and I disarmed her.”
John’s look darkened, his brows slanting over his eyes as he scowled at Christian.
“We’ll find it,” Christian promised.
“Willow, return to camp,” her father ordered.
“My sword,” she said softly.
“If you lost it, you don’t deserve to own it.”
At his stern tone, a stab of remorse filled her. She bobbed her head. “Yes, Father.” She raced back to the camp.
At camp, Willow combed down her brown mare, Mercy. She put all her heart into taking care of what was hers. She knew they didn’t have a lot of coin, so when her father entrusted something to her, she knew she had to care for it. Her father had given her Mercy three summers ago. The sword he had given to her five summers ago. She had never lost it before.
Strangely, her mind continued to return to Christian’s kiss. She replayed it over and over. He had kissed her. It had been wondrously delicious. His lips had been softer than she imagined. She ran her tongue over her lips, but no matter how she tried, she could not repeat the sensations his kiss had elicited.
Caught between guilt and wonderment, Willow glanced over her shoulder at Sage and Raven. They had returned from town and were tending their horses.
She noticed her father marching back into camp. He was carrying her sword. Joy erupted through her. “You found it!” She crossed to him, and he tossed it to her.
“Aye,” he said. “Don’t lose it again.”
Willow inspected the blade. It needed to be cleaned, and she would care for it. Slowly, she lowered the blade. As her father moved past her, she scanned the forest behind him. “Where’s Christian?”
“He left.” There was a finality to his voice.
Left. Her joy evaporated like a small puddle in hot sunshine. “When will he be back?”
“Put him out of your mind,” her father ordered.
Willow looked back at the thick forest. How could she do that? “Where did he go?”
“He said something about a pressing matter. He’s not coming back, Willow.” He continued to the smoldering fire pit in the center of the camp.
Willow’s heart twisted.Not coming back.Those were the exact words he said about her mother. A thought occurred to her. Had Christian departed because of her father? She brushed the idea away. Her father liked Christian. He was like a son to him. No. It was her fault. If only she hadn’t kissed Christian.
She sheathed her weapon and turned to her horse. The horse nickered. Mercy would never abandon her. Willow wrapped her arms around the mare’s neck. She closed her eyes.
Sage approached Willow. Speaking in a quiet voice, she asked, “What happened?”
“Christian left,” Willow whispered, touching her lips.
“Left?” Sage echoed. “He didn’t say goodbye.”
Willow turned to her sister with confusion and devastation.
Sage gasped. “Are you well?”
Tears stung Willow’s eyes, and she wouldn’t look at Sage. She rubbed Mercy with stiff strokes. “Why wouldn’t I be?” There was a thickness in her tone she couldn’t hide.
“I’m sorry,” Sage said softly.
Willow used all her determination to push the pain and tears aside. “I’m well,” she stated to convince Sage as well as herself.
Sage reached out a tender hand to her. “Will—”
Willow pulled away, glancing over her shoulder at Raven, who was observing them. Even though she felt as if her heart had been ripped from her chest, she had to be strong before her family. No tears. “I said I’m well,” she insisted.
Sage nodded and returned to her horse.
Willow watched her go, and guilt rose inside her at her harsh tone. Sage was only trying to comfort her. She didn’t need solace, she told herself. If Christian wanted to go, who was she to stop him?
And yet, she didn’t understand.
Why had Christian left her?
