Christian sighed. It would do no good arguing with her. He closed his eyes to compose himself and raked a hand through his wet hair, pushing it back from his face.
“Father and Raven will be worried,” Willow told him. “By the time they get the message, we will be long gone from here.”
“What’s done is done.” He shook his head, rubbing his eyes. There were more crucial things to consider. The book. He couldn’t allow Marcus de Nogaret, cousin to the king’s man Guillaume de Nogaret, to have it. He glanced around the stables. Three horses were housed for the night. He eyed a black steed in one of the stalls. Every instinct he had was to leave. Willow would only hold him back with her concern for Sage. The only important thing was getting the book. Still, de Burgh’s betrayal stung and was an unexpected complication.
Christian ground his teeth. Who were those soldiers? What were they doing in the chateau? And what was de Burgh doing working for those soldiers? What had he told them? Anxiety and dread clawed up Christian’s back.
Willow stood at the window; a flash of lightning lit the sky outside, white gliding over her for an instant.
“Why were those men chasing you?”
Willow’s hand shifted to her stomach. “You mean besides wanting the book? I think they thought I killed Brother Nicolas.”
Christian’s eyes narrowed. The Hawke women hid valuables in their armor. Had she lied to him? Had Marcus taken Sage because he thought she knew where the book was? Perhaps Willow had found it in Brother Nicolas’s chambers. He took a step closer to her. “Did you find my book?”
“Sage’s book?” She shook her head. “No.”
“What are you hiding?”
The door opened and the boy entered, water dripping from his brown hair, and his clothing was soaked. He appeared to have jumped into a lake. He led a tan steed into the first stall. “Looks as if ya made it just in time. It is pouring!”
Christian glared at Willow, grinding his teeth. They weren’t finished. She was concealing something.
She brushed by him and moved to the boy’s side. “Do you need help?”
“Aw, no, lady. I don’t want ya to dirty yer hands.” The boy dipped his head and kicked at a pebble.
“They’re already dirty,” she said. “You get dry hay, and I’ll rub him down.”
Christian sighed softly. He had forgotten how charming and helpful Willow could be. How totally irresistible. Just watching her, the way she moved with sultry steps and sways, made him desire what he could not have and should not want.
He looked away. As much as he craved her, he didn’t trust her. Did she have his book? Or was she telling the truth? Disgruntled, he turned toward the window.
Lightning lit the yard, followed by a lower rumble as if warning him. There were too many men searching for his book. He was supposed to get it to Brother Nicolas, which the Hawke sisters had done.
But where was it now? Did Willow have it? Did Marcus? He couldn’t let it fall into the wrong hands. He gazed at Willow as she combed down the steed. The gentle manner she glided the cloth over the horse was hypnotic. She was sensual and enticing. He could get lost just looking at her.
He mentally shook himself. She was a distraction he couldn’t afford.
He had to find that book no matter what.
