Bea didn’t move.
Christian cast a glance over his shoulder at her. “Bea.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want you to leave.”
Willow recalled that same feeling from long ago. She hadn’t wanted him to leave then, either. If Bea knew what was good for her, she would cast Christian aside. If Bea knew what was good for her, she would bury her feelings deep so they couldn’t destroy her. If she knew what was good for her, she would rip out her heart and trample the betraying organ.
“I have to,” he said. “But I’ll return the horse.”
Hope brightened Bea’s eyes, and she turned, racing into the field at the back of the house.
“That’s cruel,” Willow stated with anger. “That woman loves you.”
“Ididn’t kiss her,” Christian said.
Willow’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “It looked like you did.”
“Shekissed me,” he insisted. “I was so shocked that I didn’t have time to react.”
The horse danced beneath Willow, moving sideways.
Christian held the reins tightly. “It wasn’t like our kiss,” he said softly.
“No. You used that to steal my book. You are manipulative, Christian.”
“As are you. You were the first to use a kiss to steal a book.”
Her brows drew down in insulted anger. And she realized she was more like Bea than she wanted to admit. She considered his words. “You should be truthful with her.”
“I’ve told her repeatedly that it is over between us. She won’t hear me.”
Willow was silent. Perhaps he was telling the truth. Still, the image of him kissing Bea wouldn’t fade. It was a scalding reminder that Christian wasn’t hers. Maybe it was good she had seen him kissing another woman. It was a reminder that he would betray her as easily as he had in the past. As easily as he had left without saying goodbye.
Bea brought the horse around the house. “Father said to be careful with her.”
The animal had no saddle, only a bridle.
Christian took the mare’s reins and swung himself up onto her back.
Willow stared at Bea. She was beautiful in a simple way. Her cheeks were high, and her eyes were large. “You need to be stronger,” she advised the woman. “He doesn’t love you. He loves no one but himself.” She cast a scathing glare at Christian before spurring her horse down the road toward the river.
They rode for the rest of the day, searching for Sage’s trail. Even their combined skills could not pick up her track. There were just too many travelers and tracks in the mud along the river. There was no further sign of the parchment Sage had been leaving for them.
As the sun began to set, they made camp near the river. They saw to their horses in silence before eating.
Christian noticed Willow hardly ate. She was distant and had barely said anything to him during their search. He didn’t like the separation. He settled against a tree and lifted his stare to the sky. Stars twinkled high above him in the darkness. He grinned, remembering when he was with Hawkes. He glanced at Willow.
She sat on the ground near a tree away from him. Her knees were bent, and her head was dipped.
“I’m sorry for hurting you,” he said softly.
“I’m not hurt,” she insisted.
But he knew she was. He had to get her talking to him so he could ask for her forgiveness. “Remember when we used to look at the stars?”
“I remember,” she said stiffly.
Still the detachment. He hated it. “You liked how they shimmered.”
