Alarmed, Christian hurried to her side. “What’s wrong?”
She held up a hand for him to stop. “You’ll step on them,” she said, her voice thick.
Christian glanced down. Beneath his boots was a carpet of clovers. He realized what she was doing. She was looking for a four-leaf clover. He dropped to his knees beside her. “Will…”
She bent forward, carefully parting the dewy green carpet, scanning the expanse. Her shoulders were tense, and her brow furrowed in fear.
His heart ached for her. “What’s wrong?” he asked tenderly.
She visibly shook as she paused her search.
Christian wanted to reach out, to comfort her, but his instinct was to wait. He fisted his hands at his sides, resisting the urge to touch her. She would come to him in her own time.
“There has to be a four-leaf clover here,” she whispered in anguish. Her golden braid fell over her shoulder, brushing the ground. Her back was rounded as she scanned the ground.
He brushed his hand over the clovers. “Then we’ll find it.” The clovers were cool and dewy beneath his fingers as he brushed them aside in his search. The gentle swoosh of the weeds was the only sound.
Christian cast a concerned glance at Willow. Her lower lip trembled. What had happened to cause her such misery?
“I don’t like water,” she said softly.
Christian’s gaze moved over her, but her armor was dry. He had thought perhaps she slipped into a pond and was frightened. “I know,” he answered.
“Or boats. I could never…” Her voice trailed off.
Confusion loomed like a cloud over Christian.
She sat back with a huff. When she looked at him, tears glittered in her large eyes like diamonds. “I know where the directions start. I know which map in Brother Nicolas’s book to follow.”
Christian’s mouth dropped, and he inched closer to her. “Willow. That’s wonderful. We should tell the others.”
“No,” she snapped and swallowed, whipping her head back to scan the ground again. Her hand parted the lush green weeds in her desperate search for the four-leaf clover.
Christian scowled. Water? Boats? What was he missing? Why wouldn’t she want to tell everyone? Prickles danced along his shoulders and up the nape of his neck. He reached for her hand, engulfing it in his. It felt small and fragile. “Where do we go?”
She shook her head, her beautiful, lush lips pressed together tightly. Rays of sunlight touched strands of hair curling onto her cheek. “I can’t.”
He reached up and brushed a lock from her face. “Sage will solve it eventually.”
With a whimper, she leaned heavily against him. “I just found my sisters,” she whispered into his chest.
Christian’s arms swept around her. “We’re not leaving them. And I’m not leaving you.”
She mumbled something into his leather armor.
Christian stroked her head, holding her close to him. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head, and his heart sank as he felt her body tremble. He hated to see her so distraught. Water. Boats. Just found her sisters? He had to help her. “It will be well, Will.”
She pulled back and looked at him in anguish. “England,” she said. “It’s in England.”
And then it all made sense. They would have to sail across the English Channel on a boat to get to England. Sage and Raven would be eager to continue the quest, but to Willow, crossing the water was terrifying. And yet, she couldn’t leave her family. He dropped his gaze, scowling. “We’ll figure something out, Will.” His mind churned. “We’ll come up with something. But you have to tell them.”
She sighed softly. “I know.” Her voice came out in a thick, ragged tone.
The raw tears in her eyes tugged painfully at his heart. She seemed so vulnerable, and he felt helpless. He wished he could do something, anything, to alleviate her suffering. He squeezed her hand and lowered his gaze guiltily. How could he help her? What could he say?
And then, something caught his eye in the center of the green clovers. He frowned as he reached and plucked the leaf from the patchy grass. He inspected it and held it up to her. “A four-leaf clover.”
Willow chuckled sadly, staring at the rare stalk. “This doesn’t seem like good luck.”
