He couldn’t answer. His throat was too clotted to speak. His eyes burned.
She turned away from him then and went to the horse she’d left tethered to a nearby tree. She untethered the horse without a word and mounted with some difficulty. He would have stepped forward to help her ifhe hadn’t known with certainty that she would have refused him.
He knew Seana, knew her considerable pride.
When she was mounted, she turned to him at last. She urged the mount closer to him and looked down at him, her expression pained. “If you love that woman in there, you will tell her the truth, Broc. And you will tell her before tonight so that she can attend her brother’s funeral.”
Broc said nothing, merely looked away, his gut burning.
“Tell her good-bye for me, please. I will not go back in there and face her with lies!”
He peered up at her, stubbornly keeping his silence, but knowing deep down that she was telling him the truth. He knew she believed it with all her heart.
“She’s bonny and sweet and seems to adore you. If you tell her the truth, she just might forgive ye.”
He was afraid to hope for that.
“But if ye dinna, Broc, I promise you will lose her.”
And with that last admonition she left him to consider her words.
CHAPTER 24
Seana was right.
He was in danger of losing Elizabet, and God help him, she had become the most important thing in the world to him. Without her, nothing else mattered.
His only chance to keep her was to go to Piers and reveal to him all that had happened. He had to count on Piers to protect her. He didn’t care what happened to himself afterward, as long as Elizabet forgave him. Pride be damned, he would throw himself on her mercy and pray she could find it within her heart to forgive him for his lies.
He bloody well loved her.
She hadn’t asked him, as yet, what it was he and Seana had spoken of, and he was glad, because he wasn’t quite ready to tell her. He could face men in battle, but he cowered at the thought of her enmity.
He lifted up the tunic she had set upon the table and shook it out, examining her handiwork. It was beautiful, the stitches neat and precise. She’d used the gold ribbon from her hair to trim the arms, neckline and hem. It was far finer than anything he’d ever owned before.
He only hoped it would fit him, because he loathedto disappoint her any more than he was going to already. He set the tunic down and turned to look at her. She stood by the door, peering out.
Another hour to go before the sun set.
Only one more hour before everything would change.
She looked so lovely standing there, with her long, shiny hair streaming down her back, that it momentarily took his breath away.
This could possibly be the last time he was ever alone with her. He prayed otherwise, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew that once she discovered his deception, she might never forgive him for it.
His heart wrenching with torment, he walked to where she stood and placed his arms about her waist. He laid his head upon hers, adoring the feel of her in his arms.
She peered back at him, touching her face to his cheek.
“You seem distressed,” she said, her expression full of concern—and mayhap a little hurt that he hadn’t confided in her. But she would know everything soon enough.
“’Tis naught, lass,” he lied one last time.
But it would be his last.
And he was going to make love to her one last time and hope that she would see into his heart—that she would feel his heart beating against her own and know it beat for her.
He pulled her into the hovel, letting the door close behind them. She turned in his embrace, and he bent to kiss her, desperate for the taste of her lips. He nibbled them hungrily. Thrusting his hand into her silky hair, he turned her face up to his.
