The Hawk (Highland Guard #2)(97)

He flinched as if he’d just taken a blow from a war hammer. Through the burning in his chest, he forced her to look at him, staring in her eyes and daring her to lie to him. “Tell me one thing. Do you want to marry him?”

She didn’t blink. “Why wouldn’t I? Sir Ralph is one of the most handsome, important knights in Christendom. Any woman would be honored to be his wife.”

Erik clenched his jaw against the sudden twist of pain. It should be relief. His mission had to come first, and now he could leave with a clear conscience. He’d asked. She’d refused. He’d done his duty; his honor was intact.

Then why did his chest feel as though it were on fire? Why was he so bloody angry? And why did he want to kill Sir Ralph de Monthermer?

It was what Erik’s ancestors would have done. But he wasn’t a Norse barbarian. He had no right to claim her.

Dawn was breaking. The galleys were drawing closer. Another five minutes and there would be enough light to make out their two forms. If he was going to go, he needed to do it now.

He glanced at Ellie right before he slipped into the water. Bundled in the plaids and furs, she looked so small and helpless. But she wasn’t; she never had been. She didn’t need him. Though he fought the urge to pull her into his arms and prove otherwise.

His jaw hardened with icy resolve. Nay, it was better this way. He had a mission to complete. Once he returned to Bruce and the attack was under way, he would have so much to do he would forget all about her. Time and circumstance, he reminded himself. Once the adventure and excitement died down, he’d stop feeling this way.

With one last look, he slid into the water and started to swim. Numb inside, he barely noticed the cold.

He looked back only once.

Halfway to shore, he paused just in time to see the first English galley reach the skiff. He stiffened, recognizing the arms of de Monthermer: the green eagle on the yellow sail. A moment later, he saw Ellie plucked from the small skiff and pulled into the arms of a tall, mail-clad knight bearing the same crest on his tabard.

Erik’s lungs felt as if they were burning with salt water.

Seeing her in the arms of another man brought out every primitive instinct in him—instincts he didn’t even know he had. But he told himself she was safe. He’d returned her to her family as he’d promised. His duty was done.

He slid back underwater and swam with everything he had, focused on one thing and one thing only.

The mission was all that mattered.

* * *

When Ralph enfolded her into his arms, Ellie’s carefully constructed composure crumbled. She didn’t care that there were four galleys of soldiers watching her. All the emotion she’d been holding inside shattered in a heart-wrenching flurry of tears and sobs.

Attributing the outpouring of emotion to relief from her rescue—not realizing that her heart was breaking—Ralph soothed her with calming words. It was all right. She was safe now. No one would hurt her.

He was sturdy and warm, tall and strong. His broad, solid chest even smelled of the wind and sea. And when he smiled down at her, his handsome face was gentle and full of concern.

But Ralph de Monthermer wasn’t the man she wanted, and he never would be. The man she wanted was lost to her—though he’d never really been hers at all.

The truth stung, but the pain seemed to give her strength. Embarrassed by the all-too-public display of emotion, she drew back and wiped the tears from her eyes. There would be time enough to mourn when she was home. But for now, she needed to ensure Erik’s escape.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized. She knew Ralph must be anxious to hear what had happened, and how she’d come to be alone, marooned in the small skiff.

“You’ve nothing to apologize for,” Ralph said gently. “I’m just so relieved we found you. The storm—”

He didn’t finish, but gave her hand a squeeze. “It’s a miracle that you were able to stay afloat.”

Not a miracle; the skills of one man.

Ralph’s face hardened. “But where is he? Where is the man who took you?”

Ellie knew she had to do whatever she could to convince Ralph that Erik had perished in the storm, but she hated having to lie to him. “He’s gone,” she replied flatly. “I don’t know how it happened. The storm was horrible. It was dark and impossible to see through the wind and rain. He ordered me to stay down low in the hull of the boat. One minute he was standing there, the next he was gone.”

“Hawk is dead?” a man said incredulously.

Ellie turned at the sound of the familiar voice. A man stepped out from behind the crowd of soldiers who’d gathered round. The color drained from her face. “Thomas! You’re all right!” So profound was her relief to see him that she took a few steps toward him before stopping. “But what are you doing here?”

Thomas’s face flushed scarlet, but it was Ralph who answered for him. “It’s thanks to Sir Thomas that we found you.”

“Sir Thomas?” she echoed. It was what she’d always known, but hearing it surprised her nonetheless.

Thomas gave her a short bow. “Sir Thomas Randolph at your service, Lady Elyne.”

It took her a moment to place the name, but when she did her horror was only worsened. “You are Robert’s nephew,” she gasped.

The young knight nodded.