Chapter 15
Several steps away, vision blurring, Patrik halted, gasping for breath. “Ni-Nichola.”
Nichola straightened, her eyes burning hot. “Stay away!”
Pain slammed Patrik’s head. “I-I need to talk to you.”
“By God’s eyes!” Alexander stepped before his wife. “Enough!”
Seathan walked to Alexander, slanted a worried look at Nichola at her husband’s side. “Now is not the time,” he told Patrik.
Panic clawed through Patrik. “Nichola, pl-please, listen to me.”
Face pale, Nichola shook her head. “Leave us.” Roughness coated her words, betraying a loathing so great it would stain the pews of a church. Angry tears slid down her cheeks as she faced her husband. “Swear to me you will keep him away from our son!”
“Nichola,” Alexander started.
“Swear it.”
She believed he’d harm her or her child? Patrik’s heart broke, his guilt and regret for his actions twofold. “I wo-would not harm yo-your son nor you, ever.”
Nichola turned. The contempt scarring her face tore Patrik’s soul.
Seathan stepped between them. “Alexander, take Nichola inside.”
“Aye.” Alexander shot Patrik a hard look. Like a wolf guarding its mate, he drew her close, strode toward the keep.
Duncan moved to Seathan’s side, his icy expression underscoring where his loyalty lay.
Loss smothered Patrik, a curtain so black he struggled to draw a breath. Had he not brought enough tragedy to those he loved? Though many despised him, none more than he himself. More fool was he for having entertained the notion of somehow finding forgiveness.
Blackness threatened. He fought for consciousness, braced his feet to remain standing. “I-I need but a horse and I wi-will go.”
A horse? The stubborn, mule-headed oaf. Emma moved to Patrik’s side and glared at Lord Grey. “Tell me, will you have your brother’s death upon your conscience ?”
Patrik caught her arm. “Cristina.”
“He is barely standing.” Emma tugged her arm free of Patrik’s weak hold. “Tell me, will you allow your brother to leave?”
Piercing green eyes bored into her.
She held her ground. Patrik’s life was at stake. Without a healer, he would die. Even with proper attention there were no guarantees.
Anger churned within Lord Grey’s eyes, but surprisingly, respect as well. He nodded to the two nearest knights. “Take Sir Patrik to his chamber,” he ordered, his gaze never leaving her.
“Blast it!” Patrik wove. “I need not—”
“Now!” Seathan’s voice boomed.
“Aye, my lord,” the closest man said. Two knights hurried to Patrik’s side.
Weak, his wounds having begun to bleed, Patrik was half led, half carried to the keep.
Relief swept through Emma. Thank God. She started after him.
“Mistress Cristina.” Lord Grey’s voice wrapped around her with cold finality.
Heart pounding, she faced the powerful lord. Silence descended between them like a guillotine. “I wish to be with Sir Patrik.”
The earl crossed his arms. “A healer awaits him.”
And she understood. “You never were going to allow him to leave Lochshire Castle, were you? You just wanted him to suffer, wondering if he will ever again be accepted.”
A muscle worked in Lord Grey’s jaw. “He is my brother.”
She hesitated. “And he is fortunate to have you.”
“I doubt he would concur right now,” Lord Grey replied, “nor will he for a long while. He has much to overcome.”
True, but regardless of the challenges, Patrik’s brothers would not dismiss him out of hand.
“Go,” the earl called to those around him. “Welcome our knights home. Those without families, see to the wounded.”
Whispers interwove the soft sound of footsteps as the people within the bailey dispersed.
“Duncan,” Lord Grey said. “Oversee the wounded and ensure all are tended.”
“Aye.” With a wary glance at Emma, the youngest brother clasped his wife’s hand and drew her with him.
In the distance laughter filled the air along with the excited yells of children. As if everything was normal.
Emma nodded to the earl. “I owe you an apology, my lord. ’Twas improper to challenge you. But, to protect Sir Patrik, I would do so again.”
He arched a brow.
Emma pushed forward. “Though you are Patrik’s brother, I thank you for caring for him when he himself does not expect it, or feel he deserves it.”
“And do you feel he is deserving?” a woman at Lord Grey’s side asked.
Caught up in the tension between Patrik and Lord Grey, she’d failed to notice this regal woman who stood beside the lord of the keep. Heat rose up Emma’s cheeks.
“Mistress Cristina,” the earl said, his voice somber, “my wife, the Countess of Grey.”
Emma gave a brief curtsy. “My lady.”
Lavender eyes studied her, the intelligence within potent. She was a match to her powerful mate, yet another daunting link within the MacGruders.
“Yes, I believe Sir Patrik is deserving of acceptance and more. Since he tried to kill Sir Alexander’s wife, he has lived in shame.” Emma paused. “He regrets his betrayal with his every breath.”
“You seem sure,” the noblewoman stated.
Emma lifted her jaw. “Never have I met a man more honorable.”
“Patrik means much to you.” Though softly spoken, conviction weighed heavy in the countess’s words.
Feelings Emma could not deny, but her love for Patrik was private, a fact even he did not know. Tiredness slid through her, wiping away the sharp wit she desperately needed.
“Sir Patrik is a deeply caring man,” Emma said. “A man who has made errors, mistakes he regrets and sincerely wishes to repair.”
“Patrik saved Mistress Cristina from English knights several days back,” the earl said.
Temper flared. “Do not attempt to explain away my feelings as gratitude. It takes little effort to see the incredible man Sir Patrik is. His loyalty, honesty, and integrity.” Exhausted, Emma fought to rein in her anger.
“Do you think ’twas easy for him to stay away, to be apart from the family, the people he loves?
He has paid a great cost for his poor decisions. ”
Lord and Lady Grey absorbed her outburst with quiet interest.
“In the meager time you have known him,” Lord Grey said, “you have learned a great deal about Patrik, more than most, a fact that intrigues me.”
Emma bet it did. They were insights she’d not meant to give, but neither would she allow him to disparage Patrik.
The silence hummed with tension, a wordless challenge.
After a curious glance at her husband, the countess gave Emma a kind smile. “Mistress Cristina, you must be exhausted. My husband, I will take her to a chamber to rest.”
Lord Grey’s mouth tightened.
The earl wanted her nowhere near his wife, which suited Emma’s plans fine. “It is unnecessary, my lady. I need but water, bread, and cheese and I will be on my way.”
Surprise flashed across her face. “You are exhausted, your fine gown ruined, and neither can I allow you to travel into the dangers outside the castle walls alone.”
If only Lady Grey understood the dangers she’d already faced, that she was one of England’s top mercenaries, her kindness would become hatred.
Emma shook her head. “No, I—”
“You will remain,” Lord Grey said. It wasn’t a request. “We all wish to know you better.”
Indeed.
“My husband,” the countess said, “it has been a hectic morn for us all. Go and see your brother, and I will ensure Mistress Cristina is settled within a chamber.”
The earl hesitated.
“Is there something wrong, my husband?”
“See me in private once you are through.”
With a frown, the countess nodded.
The earl gave his wife a hard, brief kiss, whispered in her ear, then strode toward the keep.
Emma exhaled, feeling his departure like a storm evaded. But she had not escaped, merely gained a reprieve. “Sir Patrik’s brothers do not like me, a fact you should know.”
The countess turned. “My husband and his brothers are formidable men, often hard to understand. But they care, love deeply, and would fight for one another to the end. Often, their gruff manner is but a shield.”
“Traits Sir Patrik shares,” Emma replied.
“He would,” she said, glancing toward the keep where they’d carried Patrik, “if he is anything like his brothers.”
The noblewoman’s words held conviction, an unspoken understanding. “My lady, why are you telling me this?”
Her face softened. “Because you care for Patrik deeply, and he is my husband’s brother.”
Emma’s throat tightened. “You know naught of me.”
“Then it would seem we are even. Come. I will show you to a chamber, have a bath drawn, hot food delivered as well as a cup of wine to quench your thirst.”
Emma fell into step beside the noble, feeling a fraud.
“I understand what it is like to be the outsider,” the countess said.
“Because you are English?”
A smile touched her mouth. “One of many reasons. Mayhap in time I will explain. And please, call me Lady Linet.”
“My lady—”
“In time,” the countess interrupted, “I believe we will become friends.”
Sadness weighed upon Emma. Time? However much she wished it, time here was not something she would ever have, nor the friendship offered.
Inside the keep, they passed through the great hall. Cooking meat and herbs simmered in pots hanging above the fires. At odds with that domestic setting, people hurried to tend the injured. A dais lay at the far end, topped by a huge table.
“This way.” Lady Linet entered a turret and started up the spiral stairs. “The chamber you will stay in is on the second floor.”
Torchlight illuminated the hewn stone. The pale gold light illuminated the tapestries hung along the walls.
Emma slowed. “These are beautiful.”
“Gifts from my husband after we wed.”
Within the flicker of light, she studied the intricate weave, the rich colors. “Fairies within a forest. Very unusual.”
“They are. Or would be elsewhere.” A smile edged Lady Linet’s mouth as she pressed her fingers upon the halved stone around her neck.
A similar gemstone that Patrik wore came to mind. Were the pendants a family tradition?
“Come.” The countess started up the steps, the rumble of men’s voices below fading.