The Hawk (Highland Guard #2)(96)

She did not mistake his carelessly uttered words; he was enraged. If it wasn’t ridiculous, she would almost think he was jealous. But Erik was about the last man she could imagine as jealous—he was too self-assured and devil-may-care to suffer from such a weak human frailty. It was the threat to his mission that drove his anger.

“And what about your lack of maidenhood? Do you think the newly coined earl will still want you for his wife? Or perhaps you hoped to deceive him on that point?”

She stiffened. How could he think her capable of such dishonor? She was under no illusions about Ralph’s interest in her. It was the alliance that mattered. “It’s none of your business. That’s between my betrothed and myself.”

He snapped, grabbing her arm and jerking her hard against him. “The hell it is.”

Ellie’s heart raced against his chest. She’d never seen him out of control. The look in his eyes …

She shivered. She didn’t know what he meant to do. His face was so close, she thought he meant to kiss her into submission. Nay, not kiss, ravage.

What would have happened next she would never know. He looked over her shoulder and froze. All the emotion and anger seemed to rush out of him. “It seems we shall find out.”

“What are you talking about?”

He pointed behind her. She turned, and in the soft glow of dawn, she noticed the unmistakable specks of color on the horizon behind them. Sails. At least a half dozen of them, closing in fast.

“I think your fiance has just arrived.”

Ellie saw something on his face she never thought to see: defeat. She realized what Erik had known the first moment he’d seen them: it was a death knell. Escape was futile. The coast was still too far away. Without a sail, they would never be able to hide or outrun them. Even Erik’s extraordinary skills had their limit, and single-handedly out-rowing a fleet of English galleys under sail was his.

He was going to fail. Because of her. And failure was something he would never forgive.

Her gaze flickered to the Irish coast. She felt a prickle of an idea. Maybe he still had a chance.

But would he take it?

She hardened her heart, knowing that she had to leave him no choice.

He was going to fail the king. The team. Everyone who was counting on him.

Even in his darkest hours during the storm, Erik had never contemplated anything but success. That he could actually fail seemed inconceivable. But the bitter taste of defeat soured in his mouth.

He replayed the events again and again in his mind, knowing that it was that very arrogance that had brought him to this point. If he’d taken it more seriously—focused on his task and not on the lass—he wouldn’t be here.

He couldn’t believe he’d gotten this far only to have victory snatched out from under him at the last minute. Two miles to the coast. He could practically reach out and touch it. But he would never be able to outrun the English—not in this small skiff—nor would he try and lead them right to the Irish soldiers.

They were trapped.

Still, he did not give in easily, and he wracked his brain for any way out.

“Go,” Ellie said flatly. “Before they see you.”

His voice was as hard as his gaze. “Unless you can conjure up a mast and sail, I’m afraid that’s impossible.”

“You can swim.”

He stilled, but quickly discarded the idea. “They’ll look for us once they discover the boat is empty. I can’t risk it.”

“I’m not going.”

Anger spiked inside him. “If you think I’m going to leave you—”

She didn’t let him finish. “I’ll be perfectly safe. They are looking for me. I’ll tell them that you drowned in the storm. No one will look for you. You still have time, but you need to go now.”

He looked to the coast and knew she was right. He could make it. The Irish would wait until dawn, and if he was lucky, a little longer. He would have to make the crossing to Rathlin and then on to Arran in one night, but he could do it. Bruce would still arrive in time to launch his attack on the appointed day. He could salvage his mission.

But it went against every bone in his body to leave her behind. Even though she’d lied to him, she was …

What? What was she to him?

She must have sensed his hesitation. “Go. There is nothing to keep you.”

But there was, even if he couldn’t put a name on it. Indecision—not something he was familiar with—warred inside him. He might be able to save his mission, but in doing so, he would be putting an end to his relationship with Ellie.

What relationship? She was betrothed to de Monthermer, for Christ’s sake. Edward’s former son-in-law and one of his most important naval commanders.

She belonged to someone else. The knowledge ate like acid in his chest.

She was sitting so still, her expression as hard and brittle as glass. Something didn’t feel right. She was too composed. Too calm. She’d told him she loved him only a few minutes ago, yet here she was doing her best to get rid of him.

He took her arm, wanting to shake the icy look of inevitability from her face. “What do you want from me?”

She turned her gaze to his. “Nothing. Can’t you see that? There was never any other possibility. Go, so that I can get on with my life and forget this ever happened.”