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“Wait until I send for you. Promise me.”
“Send for me? Garrick, you aren’t making sense. Why would you—”
“Your brother and I spoke of a meeting, a gathering of the border lords to determine the next recourse from the attack. I will host it. Find a way to come with him.”
“That should not be a problem. But why?”
He shook his head, not understanding himself.
Or maybe he understood all too much.
“I can’t make any promises. My mother expects a wedding. Magnus and his daughter . . . they are all expecting a wedding. But . . .”
He reached up and laid her hand on his cheek. His heart raced as the implications washed over him. What he was about to say could not be unsaid. But it was the truth, and he could no more keep quiet than he could resist bringing this woman every pleasure she deserved.
“If there’s a way to stop it, I will.”
Her hand dropped. Garrick, propped above her, looked down at the most beautiful, spirited woman he’d ever known. One who had captured his heart and soul in the short time they’d known each other.
“I love you, Emma.”
Her eyes widened, and he wished the words back immediately. He’d never uttered them to a woman before, and in truth, he’d never expected to.
She cupped his face as if he were a newborn babe rather than a hardened warrior. “I love you too.”
His chest constricted and his mouth went dry. Garrick couldn’t get closer quickly enough. He leaned down and kissed her, every nerve ending in his body screaming, her lips all-consuming. He loved this woman with every part of himself, would give everything he owned to be closer to her, to be inside her, to show her the truth of his words. To make a life with her.
For now, he’d be content with a kiss, one that threatened to drag him into an eternal bliss from which he might never recover.
One that held promises he wasn’t sure he could keep.
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I love you, Emma.
The words came back to her before she was fully awake. She repeated them over and over in her mind. He truly had said them.
And more.
By the time Emma left his chamber, Garrick had vowed to set up a meeting, and nothing would stop her from accompanying Geoffrey to Clave Castle.
I love you too.
And she did. She didn’t want to, of course, but she did.
She had been wrong. Love, it seemed, did not care about circumstances. There was no denying he was everything she didn’t want in a man. He was an earl twice over. He gave orders as if he’d been doing so his whole life, spoke of the king as if he were just another man, owned more properties than Sara and Geoffrey, and could call two separate armies of men to battle. And yet her earl was also thoughtful and strong. He inspired the kind of loyalty she could admire. And whether it was logical or not, and it was most assuredly not as he was currently betrothed to another woman, Emma did love him. She hadn’t asked him to break the betrothal. Emma understood the politics of his alliance. Indeed, she couldn’t fathom a way for him to escape them. But if anyone could do it, Garrick could. He was smart and—
“Are you awake, my lady?”
Emma turned in the bed, pulling the covers toward her chin. “Of sorts.”
It had been quite late when she’d returned, without incident, to her bedchamber. She hadn’t felt the need to rise early because she’d already said goodbye to him.
“The household will be thinkin’ you’re ill.”
She watched as Edith stoked the fire.
“I didn’t even hear you come in to start it,” she said.
