21. The Child’s Lesson #3
Her heart went wild in her chest. Lord Henry had never truly kissed her, and she only imagined how tender Erik’s kiss would be. She gathered his surcoat in her fist at his chest. Her lips parted, but at the last moment, she couldn’t let him bring ruin to them both.
“I must go,” she whispered, her breath brushing his lips, trying to undo what she had done. She hated herself for both asking the question the way she did and for ending what he was about to bestow upon her.
He stopped, brow furrowed.
She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Before someone notices.”
“Lady Seren, I . . . ”
He pulled her tighter against him. Their breath warmed her nose and cheeks. He was so close. Their lips could brush, and she didn’t know if she could resist him if they did.
A thousand words rushed through his eyes, but he only spoke two.
“Be careful.”
Her heart betrayed her resolve. She pressed into his embrace, staring into his soul as they breathed the same air. He hadn’t pulled away.
“Erik,” she whispered, not sure what would come out of her mouth next.
A few shuffles echoed from above. Whatever spell held them cracked.
He released her slowly, his fingers slipping across her back, grazing her side as she stepped past him. In the dim light, he handed her the bowl, concern written plainly across his brow.
She continued down and heard his footfalls behind her. He probably wondered why she was going downstairs in the first place.
He stopped as she entered the great hall and down the corridor, hurrying her steps. She told herself he was only there to ensure her safety.
Tomas dipped his chin to her as she quickly slipped into the nursery.
A few moments later, after she’d tucked the bowl and cloth with David’s care items, she heard Erik’s voice.
“Did Lady de Thornwyck come this way?”
Tomas responded, “No.”
“If you’re going to lie, at least use some truth, because you never know what the other person knows. The correct response, ‘I have not seen her.’ That lie might save your life. The other will get you killed.”
“Yes, Commander. Why are you looking for Lady de Thornwyck?”
“Don’t ask questions unless you want to carry the answers, Tomas. Keep to your duties.”
Seren glanced at the tapestry, but realized she couldn’t just leave Erik searching for her. She also wondered at Erik’s behavior. Why openly challenge trust with Tomas? Unless he trusted Tomas, too.
She rose and went to the corridor to avoid waking the nursemaids and the children, opening the door to find Erik there.
“I was worried about you,” Erik whispered. “You need an escort, especially to get back to your room, with Henry’s guards.”
Seren gauged Tomas’s distance from the shadows on the wall. He was far enough away. “There is a hidden stair between my room and the nursery,” Seren whispered, reaching to cup his face. Her fingers stroked his beard. “Tell no one of it, please, my friend.”
At the use of “friend,” he nodded with a clenched jaw. “Your secret is mine,” he said.
His gloved hand covered hers, anchoring it to his cheek for a moment too long.
She let it linger—long enough to feel warmth through the leather, long enough to wish it were bare skin.
“We are leaving in the morning. A six-month campaign,” he said, brushing his thumb over her fingers, so soft she barely noticed.
Her heart twisted for him.
It didn’t need to be that long.
She knew that.
Everyone knew that.
But Henry would never pass on the chance to punish Erik with silence, with distance, with exile. Ragnar’s defiance had been a boy’s crime, but the price was paid in the slow torment of a father.
“Fellow Lord of Shrewsbury revolted against the King. The crown has called us to put it down,” he said, a knot in his throat.
She pulled him close for one last embrace, rose to her toes, and kissed his cheek as a gesture of friendship between them. She lingered in her kiss, more than she should have.
His hand graced her lower back, but he didn’t pull her as close as he did in the stairwell. It was for the better. He was only—and only ever could be—a friend.
There was so much she wanted to say, but all she could whisper against his cheek was, “You will be with us in heart, Erik. Ragnar will know his father loves him.” She rested her forehead against his temple. “Return to us safely.”
His fingers firmed against her back as he held her gaze, questions resurfacing.
If only she could grant him his answer. Yes, she wanted his kiss, more than anything, but she had to survive for her children.
She had to remain in a place where she knew she would not falter.
So, again, she lied to herself: Erik did not love her.
It was the wine. It was the memory of Astrid.
It was his nature to woo the wives of Lord Henry.
And besides, time was always a thief.
And with Erik, there would never be enough of it.
Tomas’s shadow told her this time was up.
She slipped back into the nursery, her fingers slipping off Erik’s cheek through his soft grasp. They held each other’s gazes, speaking words they could never say.
She closed the door, and he turned on his heels just as Tomas came into sight.