He jerked it away and stepped back.
“Give it to me,” she demanded and stretched her hand for it again.
Christian lifted it out of her grasp.
“It’s mine,” she said through clenched teeth. “Give it to me.”
He glanced at it. The shadows of the night made the cover black. As he held it away from Willow’s hands, he couldn’t tell if it was his book or not.
She lunged for it, and he turned his back to her, keeping it from her. His gaze swept the cover. It looked like his book. He opened it and scanned the parchment pages. Maps. He scowled. “It’s not my book.”
Disbelief parted her lips, and then they firmed into a thin line of rage, and her blue eyes sparked. “I told you it wasn’t.”
She had told him the truth.
Realization and then hurt glimmered in her large orbs. “You didn’t believe me.”
He was still heated from their embrace, and if it hadn’t been for the book, who knew where they would have ended. He certainly hadn’t wanted their embrace to stop.
She swallowed and closed her mouth. Her thoroughly kissed lips trembled. “I’ve never lied to you.”
“No. You only stole my book.”
Her back straightened.
He swore he saw tears glimmer in her eyes before she spun away. His chest tightened with guilt. Then, he shook himself. He shouldn’t feel guilty. He was only stating the truth.
“Keep it,” she declared and marched to a distant tree where she sat heavily and began lacing up her armor.
His gaze dropped to the book. This was not the book she had stolen from him. “Why would Brother Nicolas give this to you?”
She shrugged. “I didn’t ask a dying man his reasons.”
Another stab to his heart. More guilt fell over him for not trusting her. Trusting her? This had all started because she stole his book! How could he trust her? He looked down at the book. It meant nothing to him. But the book she had stolen meant nothing to her. Why had she done it? Why had she taken the book from him?
He inhaled and slowly released it. “I’ll keep this book in the saddlebags for you.”
“Don’t bother,” she snapped. “I don’t want it.”
He peered at her out of the corner of his eyes. “Why did you take my book?”
Anger merged with disappointment as her lust faded. He didn’t believe her. Part of her understood why, but it didn’t make it better. He had stopped kissing her because of the book. Why didn’t he respond like other men? A book would never have prevented any other man from touching her. But Christian wasn’t like other men. He had hurt her before. He would do it again.
She tied the lace of her armor and pulled it tight. She didn’t care if he knew the truth. “Because I thought you might come after it.”
Christian frowned. “Why did you want me to come after it?”
She clenched her lips and glanced at the ground. She scowled, still irritated. Irritated because she had been as aroused as she wanted him to be. But he wasn’t. “I was surprised to see you.” Not really the reason, but she was struggling to tell him the truth because it caused her to seem weak and needy. “It had been so long.”
He took a step closer. “And you thought that by taking the book, you would see me again.”
She sniffled. “Maybe.” Yes. That was exactly the reason. And now he knew. Now he knew how weak she was. She had loved him before. She could not make that mistake again. She lifted her chin. “But it doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Willow,” he said gently.
She had given up hope of having him love her years ago. And she didn’t want to hope again. She reiterated what she had heard from her father. “Books mean nothing.”Christianmeant nothing. She had told herself that over and over when he had left before. And yet, when she had seen him again at the inn, all the emotions, all the excitement, all the thrill of seeing him rushed back. She jerked her chin at the book in his hand. “Keep it. Father always said books weren’t important.” She stood up with a defiant defensive twist to her chin. “Family is the only thing that is important.”
She turned away and didn’t see Christian run his thumb over the leather binding longingly.
