Chapter Nineteen
Willow was disgusted with herself. She should have heard Simon behind her. Even though her father had said to expect the unexpected, her mind had not been in the moment. She had known Simon would be here. This was the inn he had said to meet at. But she had never expected this greeting.
She had started to tell Christian the truth in the room when he noticed something out the window. She had missed her opportunity.
Her mind raced as they walked down the stairway. Her father would not be pleased. No. She couldn’t think of him. Raven would be angry. Willow knew she could get away from Simon, but she was afraid Christian would be hurt.
Christian. Dread filled her. It was too late to explain her plan. She would have to do it after Simon left.
She wanted to shove the sword from her neck. She knew Simon wouldn’t hurt her. Not yet.
“I’m surprised to seeyou, Dalcop,” Simon said.
“I’m sure you are,” Christian answered, reaching the main room. “What are you doing here?”
Simon shrugged. “I am on my way to Les Labadous to meet Guillume de Nogaret.”
Willow locked eyes with Christian. If de Nogaret was in Les Labadous, there was a good chance his cousin, Marcus de Nogaret, would be, too. With Sage.
“It must have wounded your pride when Willow disarmed you and tied you up,” Christian said.
Chills ran up and down her body as trepidation filled her. She had forgotten she told Christian that. She bowed her head.
Simon’s grin grew. “It did, indeed, wound me.” He flicked his blade at an empty chair. “Sit.”
It was too late to tell Christian the truth. Simon had to believe the book she was giving him was the book he was after. She took a deep, shaky breath. The last thing she wanted to do was harm Christian. Why hadn’t she told him? Why wasn’t she braver? Why didn’t she trust in his love?
Christian sat, his hand moving to the pommel of his sword.
Simon lowered the blade from her neck and turned to her. “My dear. Our deal,” Simon hissed with pleasure.
A lump of regret formed in her throat. While she knew what she was doing was right, she never wanted to cause Christian pain. She regretted not telling him her plan.
“Deal?” Christian echoed, confused.
Simon held out his hand, palm up. “I assume you have it.”
Willow’s chest constricted, and for a moment, she hesitated. “You were going to leave me,” she tried to justify to Christian. But even her explanation sounded trite.
Still, he didn’t understand. She saw it in his bewildered blue eyes.
She couldn’t describe her plan with Simon there. Every part of her wanted to drop to her knees and admit what a fool she was, how she sought to deceive his brother. She bit her upper lip so she wouldn’t confess.
“The book,” Simon insisted, pushing his palm forward.
She would never betray Christian. She had told him she loved him, and he would have to trust her now. She swallowed in a thick throat. He wouldn’t welcome her working with his brother.
She turned away from Simon and reached into her armor, removing a red leather-bound book. She stared at it for a long moment before meeting Christian’s eyes, silently pleading with him.
Shock rounded his orbs.
And then she knew. He would hate her for choosing his brother over him. Her fingers were cold, and her hand shook.
Simon snatched the book from her.
Christian’s neck was corded, and his nostrils flared.
She wanted to explain. But she knew she couldn’t in front of his brother. She couldn’t tear her eyes from his wounded rage.
