Chapter 17 #3
“I will miss you,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “But you would never understand.” She swallowed hard. “I cannot stay.” Heart aching, Emma leaned forward, pressed her mouth gently upon his lips. “I love you.”
Her entire body trembled as she stood. Emma stared down one last time at the man she loved, at the man who would forever hold her heart. Mayhap it was best if he slept.
Cristina’s emotion-torn words echoed in Patrik’s mind like a gift.
She loved him. He ached to tell her that he loved her as well, to draw her to him and make love, except her softly whispered intent to leave severed his reply.
And after agreeing to his brothers’ plan to discover Cristina’s loyalties, he had no choice.
The soft sound of steps alerted him she was leaving. “Cristina?”
She turned, her face pale, her eyes still bright with unshed tears.
“I did not hear you.” The lie sat upon his tongue like curdled milk.
“You were asleep when I entered. I did not want to disturb you.”
He held out his hand; she walked over and laid her trembling fingers within his. “What is wrong?” But he knew, damn her—she was going to leave.
“I was worried about you,” she said.
“Sit beside me.”
Cristina glanced at the door. “I should not.”
“We will not be bothered.”
“You look better.”
“Clean, you mean. The bruises will fade.” Her eyes were brimming with tears. “You are crying?”
“I-I have been worried about you.”
“There is no need now, is there, lass?”
She sniffed. “No. Forgive me, I am being foolish.”
If only it was so simple. “Are you sure there is nothing more upsetting you?”
For a split second panic flashed in her eyes. Then a brittle smile wobbled on her face. “No, I am just tired.”
No? For the first time since he’d met her, he realized she never said nae as most Scots did. There you go, convict her, lad, without knowing the full truth. The reasons could be many, including her time spent along the border.
She’d never mentioned the location of the orphanage or where she had lived with her husband.
“Lie with me.”
She cast a nervous glance at the entry. “Patrik, ’tis indecent.”
“Aye.” Desire filled his voice. He did not have to feign that. “It is.” And, might very well be the last time they spent together.
She hesitated. “But you are hurt and—”
He tugged her hand. “Come, I will do naught but hold you.”
She eyed him, far from convinced.
“Well, mayhap a wee bit more.” Instead of a smile, sadness touched her gaze, and his heart squeezed tight.
Cristina again glanced toward the door, then with care, lay by his side. “I feel foolish.”
He ran his hand over her face, down the curve of her neck wanting more, wanting it all. “You feel bonny to me.”
She shivered beneath his touch as desire darkened her gaze. “You are healing.”
“I am a better man already.” He claimed her mouth, took it with intensity. As her body relaxed against his, he softened the kiss. On a groan, he pulled back, smiled. “Look at this, I have you in my bed.”
“’Tis not a joke.”
A chill swept through him. “Nay, ’tis anything but.
” He searched her face as his mind clamored in turmoil.
At least for this moment, regardless of where this day should end, she was here with him.
And loving her, aware she was in love with him, he wanted her in every way.
Patrik leaned forward and nuzzled her neck.
She sighed. “You will open your wounds.”
He pushed away her gown, drew her breast into his mouth. “Tell me you do not want this.”
Cristina held his gaze, the desire within her eyes tempered with regret. “I cannot.”
He ignored the latter and sat up. “Wait here.”
“Why? Patrik, you should not be about.”
He shot her a wink. “I will be doing more than that in a moment. Stay.”
Wincing at the pull of skin, slightly dizzy from moving, he walked with care to the entry and barred the door. Though he knew no one would enter, he would take no chance. And ’twould ease her mind. He walked to the window, pushed the shudders wide.
Sunlight poured into the chamber, a warm silk that flooded the room within its golden glow.
He turned, stunned at how she lay upon his bed, her chestnut hair disheveled, half exposed. She had never looked so amazing. “I want you.”
Cristina sat, her gown still splayed open from his touch, looking like every man’s dream. “I will be yours, always.”
His body hardened to a ferocious ache. With slow steps, he walked over, knelt before her.
“I have dreamt of seeing you in the light, of having time to make love to you, of lying beside you after you fall apart.” He pressed a finger over her lips as she made to speak.
“Nae words.” He caught her hand, pressed it over his heart.
“This moment it is only you, only I, and what we have together.”
Tears again filled her eyes.
His heart trembled. “Are you happy here with me?”
A tear rolled down her cheek. Cristina nodded.
Patrik leaned forward, caught her mouth, tasted her essence, a sweetness uniquely hers. On a moan, he took the kiss deeper as he slowly peeled away her gown, inched off each wisp until she sat before him with her clothes rumpled around her in a delicate puddle.
Appreciation filled him as he leaned back. “Much better.”
“Better? I am naked.”
“You are.”
“But you are fully clothed.”
“A matter I will be fixing.” With movements as quick as his injuries would allow, he disrobed.
“Wait,” she said as she moved closer. “I want to see you as well.”
“Be on with it, lass,” he said through gritted teeth.
With an impish look, emerald eyes scanned him with sensual delight. Her gaze roved, paused, widened as she slowly took him in.
Worried eyes lifted.
“Remember before,” he said, his words tender, filled with the memory that although once married, in many ways she was a virgin. “Our joining will only bring you pleasure.”
“I knew not you were so big.”
He chuckled. “Flatter me, will you?”
A blush stroked her face.
“Do you want me as much as I do you?”
“Yes.”
“Come here.”
She walked over.
On a sigh, he gently lifted her into his arms.
“Patrik, you are not strong enough!”
“Shhh, if I cannot carry you, I should not be making love to you.”
“Will I ever know you?”
He sobered at her words. “I pray so.” Desperation slid over her face, shaking him to the core.
“Make love with me, Patrik.”
Afraid to look deeper, wanting this moment to be all that he’d dreamed, he laid her upon his bed and claimed her. He took his time, allowed his hands, his body to show her his love, wishing desperately he could use words as well.
As she found her release, Patrik let go, exploding within her tightness. He had never felt so complete. For long moments he lay within her, their bodies claimed within the golden heat, spirals of dust shimmering above them as if a magical mist.
Cristina’s eyes widened. “Patrik.”
“What is it?”
“Your pendant, ’tis glowing.”
He lifted the pendant. As she’d claimed, it pulsed with a soft light.
Nervous eyes lifted to his. “What does it mean?”
“I am unsure.” He remembered his brothers’ talk of the halved gemstone and the woman each had married. Nay, he’d tell her naught. It mattered little as Cristina had left his halved gemstone in their grandmother’s room untouched.
“There is a match to it in the chamber above,” she said.
Alexander’s tale of finding her in the tower chamber echoed through Patrik’s mind as well as his brother’s suspicions.
“Aye, the room belongs to our grandmother. When each of us was knighted, she gifted us a halved gemstone. This is malachite. It is said to nourish inner peace.” He remembered his turbulent childhood, his struggles since then.
Aye, their grandmother had been wise in her choosing.
Even his meeting of Cristina had been filled with strife.
The bells of Terce echoed outside.
Her face paled.
“What is wrong?”
“It is growing late.”
“ ’Tis but midmorning.” At the flicker of panic on her face, he understood. Even after they’d made love, it had changed naught. She intended to leave. Grief tore through him, shattered the fragments of his hopes, dreams he’d dared.
Dreams of a fool.
Anger trampled upon the hurt. His brothers’ suspicions again rose to mind. Nay, he still believed them wrong, believed she would never share rebel secrets with their enemy.
Patrik damned his last role in this heart-wrenching act. On with it, lad. She loves you. After she leaves, you can find her again and help with whatever struggles she is battling. Now ’tis important to prove to your brothers she is a woman they can trust.
On a sigh Patrik shifted, allowed the covers to roll aside, and bumped the rolled leather. The writ fell off the bed and dropped to the floor.
Cristina’s eyes riveted upon the stained bound leather.
With a groan, he picked up the missive, set it upon the edge of the table. He didn’t miss how her gaze lingered upon the writ a moment too long.
Nae, please let me prove them wrong. “Stay with me,” he whispered. At the hesitation in her eyes, hope ignited. She would remain, the writ and whatever its importance discarded.
A long second passed.
Sadness shadowed the warmth within her eyes. “I cannot. Besides,” she said with false brightness ringing in her voice, “the lad sent to sit with you will return any moment.” Cristina pulled the covers away, her naked body gleaming.
Heart aching, he prayed that when she left, it was with an empty hand. But, indeed the time for truth had come. “I am tired.”
“You did over much.”
“Mayhap.” He forced a smile. “But it was well worth any damage caused.” Patrik drew her against him. Angst swirled in his throat. Let him be wrong. He prayed she was just a lass struggling to feel again, not a spy after the writ. On a sigh, he closed his eyes, feigned sleep.
Long moments passed. The clash of knights in practice outside echoed in the distance. A summer breeze kicked up, its silken flow sifting into the chamber to sweep across his flesh.
He didn’t move.
“Patrik?” Cristina whispered.
He remained silent, made not a movement, nothing to betray that he was alert.
“Patrik, are you awake?”
Do not touch the writ, he silently willed. In this let my brothers be proven wrong.
The bed shifted. Coldness brushed his skin where she’d lain. The soft pad of her steps grew distant, then paused. A scrape, then a soft creek. The door closed with a gentle thud.
With a prayer the writ remained, Patrik slowly opened his eyes. Pulse racing, he glanced toward the table, and his heart broke.
The writ was gone.
Outrage mixed with pain. Bedamned, he would catch her. Patrik shoved himself up. Dizziness swamped him. Gritting his teeth, he fought the wave of blackness.
And failed.