Chapter 10 #2
A soft bump against Patrik’s thigh had him frowning.
The haze in his mind began to clear. Cristina.
Images of her body as he’d claimed her poured through him like warmed oil, of her exploration, of how she’d blossomed beneath his touch.
He smiled. Aye, soon they’d leave, but he’d make love with her one last time.
He shoved the remnants of sleep aside and opened his eyes. Outlined by the candle flame, Cristina knelt beside his hip. God’s teeth, the lass would be the death of him, but aye, he’d die a happy man.
Her hand reached out.
His body hardened, ached for her touch, for the immense pleasure to come.
Instead, she reached past him and lifted his trews.
What in Hades? Patrik came fully alert.
With methodical thoroughness, she searched his garb. What was she looking for? He remembered her interest in the writ when it had fallen out of his pocket along the path.
Darkness edged his gut. “Cristina.”
She jumped, her gasp that of the guilty caught. With a nervous laugh, she settled back upon her knees. “I did not know you were awake.”
Cold silence settled between them, at odds with his erotic thoughts of moments before. “What were you searching for?”
“A tie to secure my hair.”
A lie, one betrayed by the nervousness in her voice. “I want the truth.”
“The truth?” she repeated, hurt and surprise etched upon her face. “I told you.” She hesitated. “Patrik, what is wrong? You are not making any sense.”
“On that we agree,” he replied, and prayed his suspicions were false.
“Mommy,” Joneta’s voice echoed from below, “I think they are awake.”
“’Tis early and you will not be waking them,” Marie said in a low voice.
“But the sun is coming up.”
“Shhh,” her mother replied.
“Get dressed,” Patrik whispered to Cristina, his voice gruff. “We must leave.”
“No, wait.” She shuffled beneath his garb, then lifted a thin strip of leather from beneath a leg of his trews. “Here, I found it.” In the meager light, wariness creased her face. “I am not sure what is going on, but I am innocent of whatever it is you think I have done.”
He stared at the simple tie, grabbed his braies and dragged them on.
“Patrik? Please, you are scaring me.”
Bedamned to this entire situation! Annoyed with himself, he grabbed his trews. Her claim rang true. After the incredible love they’d made through the night, why had he assumed the worst? And why did he still feel as if something was amiss? Nevertheless, the lass deserved an apology.
He reached out, thankful when she came into his arms. Her body trembled against his, and his guilt rose. He pressed a kiss upon her brow.
“Sorry I am, lass. I am on edge.” He combed his fingers through her hair. “This day I will reach my destination.”
She drew back. “That should please you, not cause you upset.”
“If only it was that simple.”
“I do not understand.”
Neither could he explain. To tell her what she made him feel would only make the parting more difficult. “Once we arrive, I will ensure you are taken to wherever you wish.” He paused, his heart heavy. “I doubt we will see each other after.”
“I hear them talking again, Mommy.”
“Outside with you,” Marie whispered. “Pick me some fresh flowers.”
After a dramatic sigh, the creek of the door echoed. Except for the soft steps of Marie, silence fell below.
Patrik stroked his fingers through Cristina’s hair and gave her a tight smile. “If only we had such problems as the little lass.”
She nodded, her gaze cautious.
He fisted his tunic in his hands. “As much as I long to stay, it is time we depart.”
“You are not angry at me?” She hesitated. “I should have asked before I searched through your clothes.”
“Nay, there is much on my mind.” However much he wished to find peace, a niggling of doubt remained.
“I shall miss you,” she said.
The anguish in her voice matched his own.
He drew her to him for a long kiss, savoring her softness, the taste uniquely hers.
“I will miss you greatly as well.” More than he could ever admit.
He nuzzled her neck, drew the tip of her breast into his mouth and tasted her one last time.
On a groan he set her aside. “Get dressed, lass.”
Devilment glittered in her eyes as with seductive slowness, she lifted her gown, held it beneath her breasts, framing what he’d tasted, savored throughout the night.
He clenched his teeth. “Hurry, lass.”
If possible, her movements slowed, the mischief in her eyes assuring him she was well aware of her effect upon him. She drew on the gown and left the ties hanging loose, her body half shielded, half exposed to his view.
Bedamned! Hard as a rock and aching with need, he caught her and tossed her beneath him.
As he pressed his body atop hers, a chuckle escaped her. “What are you doing?”
“You tease,” he whispered.
“I tease you not,” she whispered.
As if her claim or the yearning in her voice bloody helped? He gave her a solid kiss, wanting to rip away her gown and drive deep. Through sheer effort, he restrained himself.
“On with you,” Patrik growled as he rolled free and tugged on his tunic, aware he’d be hard all day with thoughts of her.
With a wistful smile, she finished donning her gown.
Moments later, his blood still pounding hot, Patrik descended the ladder. Cristina’s every movement, her every shift above him drove him insane.
“You said last night you would leave at first light,” Marie added after they’d reached the dirt floor and had exchanged good mornings. She set a bundle wrapped in cloth on the table. “It is dried meat and bread for your travel.”
“My thanks,” Patrik said.
“Will you be breaking your fast with us before you go?” Marie asked.
“Nae,” Patrik replied. “But ’tis thankful we are for everything you and your husband have done.”
Heart pounding, Emma placed her hand within Patrik’s. “I add my thanks as well.”
“If you both are ever this way again,” Marie said, “our door is always open.”
“Aye,” Fergus added as he stepped to his wife’s side.
“That is very kind of you,” Emma said.
“If you would,” Marie asked, “please tell Joneta good-bye. ’Twould break her heart if you left without seeing her.”
Unbidden, tears burned Emma’s eyes. “Of course.”
Marie smiled. “The lass has a way about her that steals your heart.”
“She does. I will miss her.” Emma steadied herself, shaken to find her words true. Throughout her life she’d made sure she never cared, but since meeting Patrik, all her barriers lay crumbled. After she left, could she ever rebuild her emotional walls?
Overwhelmed by emotion, unsure of anything, Emma stepped outside and found the sun creeping over the horizon. A light coat of dew clung to the grass. Purple light glinted off each blade, giving the field a magical glow, the air fresh and cool.
Against the wisps of sun peering through the leaves, she caught sight of Joneta sitting upon the hill, near the trees shielding the crosses.
Heart aching, she glanced at Patrik. “I will be but a moment.”
“We must hurry.”
“I know. I will not be long.”
The rich scent of earth filled her each breath as she walked through the sway of moisture-laden grass, the lush blades streaking moist trails against the hem of her gown.
Emma cast a covert look at Patrik. Though he’d apologized to her, had responded to her teasing, she’d come to understand he thought things through long and hard. He’d mull over his suspicions, allow them to stew in his mind.
Thank God she’d hidden the leather tie within her hand, then had withdrawn it as if it was just found. She could not linger further. Somehow, in the next few hours she must take the writ and escape.
Guilt overwhelmed Emma. After making love to Patrik, could she steal it? Did she have any other choice? If she failed to secure the writ, she would be living on the run and in fear of her life.
The ground curved up. As Emma neared the trees, the soft hum of the child reached her, and a smile touched her mouth.
Her head bent in concentration, Joneta held several dandelions as she continued to pick more, their sturdy stems clasped within her hand, the doll dangling from beneath her other arm.
An image Emma would cherish forever. She halted several paces away. “Joneta.”
The little girl turned. Happiness blanketed her face. She jumped up, the flowers flopping in her hand. “Look what I picked!”
“I see.” She met the child halfway and knelt before her. “They are beautiful.”
Her smile widened as she held them out. “They are a surprise for you!”
Emma struggled to keep from breaking down as she drew the girl into a hug. “My thanks. Never shall I forget you.”
Joneta stiffened in her arms.
Confused, she leaned back, surprised by the girl’s frown. “What is wrong?”
“What is that?”
She turned. A flash of light glinted across the field along the dark shadows of the trees. Emma stilled. God in heaven, they were not shadows, but knights. From the standard, English.
Heart pounding, she stood, glancing to where Patrik awaited her near the crofter’s hut. The lower ground prevented him from seeing the threat. If she yelled, she would alert the knights they’d been seen.
“Do you know what that is?” Joneta asked naively.
Trembling, Emma took the girl’s hand. “Let us show your mother the beautiful flowers,” she said, keeping her voice steady. “She will love them. We must hurry before they wilt.” She started forward at a brisk pace. Please God, let them reach the crofter’s hut before the English attacked!
“Look over there,” the little girl said as they started down the hill, “it looks like knights.”
“So it does.” She kept her voice calm, kept moving. “We must tell your father.”
Joneta skipped at her side. “Do you think they are nice men?”
The thrum of hooves sounded from across the field.
The knights were heading for the crofter’s hut! “Patrik!”
He spun toward her.
“English knights!” Emma pointed. “Across the field!”
Patrik withdrew his sword, waved her back. “Take Joneta and hide!” He sprinted toward the hut.
“Come.” Fear whipping through her, Emma led Joneta back up the hill toward the wall of trees.
The pounding of hooves battering the earth grew.
The little girl began to cry. “I want to go home.”
At this speed, they would never make it to the forest. Emma caught Joneta by the shoulders. “We must hide. Your parents would want that. Do you understand?”
Tears streaked the child’s face, but she nodded.
“Good, now run!” The thunder of hooves increased, drowning out the slam of her heart against her chest. She glanced back. Flames shot from the thatched roof. The bastards had set the hut on fire! Why? Fergus and Marie had done nothing to them in the past but given them food and water.
She made out Patrik and Fergus taking cover behind a wagon. Where was Marie?
The flames on the roof grew, arching into the sky as more crawled down the home’s sides.
Fury built atop fear as Emma pushed forward. The line of trees rose before them. If they made it to the woods, she could hide Joneta.
The contingent closed in on the hut. She scanned the knights. Twenty men. Patrik and Fergus were vastly outnumbered.
Wet blades of grass slapped against their feet. “Keep running,” Emma urged.
“My legs hurt.”
“I know.”
The knights in the field below widened their line and guided their horses into a wide arc.
They were forming a maneuver to attack!
A shout echoed across the field. Two knights were pointing at her and Joneta.
God in heaven, they’d been seen!
The two men broke from the line and galloped toward them.
“Hang on!” Emma lifted the girl and ran.
Hooves pounded behind them. An arrow streaked by, drove into the soil a pace away.
Joneta screamed.
Another arrow flashed past, lodged in a nearby tree.
They weren’t going to make it! Emma set the child down. “Run. Hide deep in the woods. Whatever happens, do not look back!”
Tears streaked the child’s face. “I do not want to leave you.”
“Go!” At her command, the girl stumbled back. “Hurry!”
Joneta turned and fled, the legs of her doll bouncing beneath her arm.
Furious, Emma reached for her knife as another arrow hissed by. She might die, but damn them, she would hold the knights off until Joneta hid.
Joneta’s scream had her whirling.
As if in slow motion, the young girl slammed against the ground. Her gown flew into the air, then it crumpled upon the still form.
“Joneta!” Emma ran to her.
The child lay still.
A scream caught in her throat as Emma stumbled to a halt. God, no! From the folds of cloth covering the girl’s body rose the shaft of an arrow.