He studied her. Then nodded. “You have my vow.”
She nodded once.
Turned.
Met Johnathan’s eyes.
They said everything she could not say aloud.
I love you.
I am sorry.
Trust me.
Then she walked toward her horse, mounting it with hands that did not shake, eyes that did not break, and rode toward Cranford.
Johnathan did not stop her.
He just watched her go.
Watched her make the sacrifice.
Watched her disappear down the road in the arms of the man she feared most—because it was the only way to save the man she loved.
The hoofbeats faded long after the dust had settled.
Johnathan stood motionless in the middle of the road, his throat tight, as if her name had lodged there, too raw to speak aloud. The cold wind curled around him, whispering where her voice had been, tearing through the places she had filled with warmth.
He barely felt William ride up behind him.
“They did not hurt her,” his friend said quietly.
Johnathan turned slowly.
“Do not,” he said.
William dismounted. “I did not know they would treat her like this. I thought?—”
“You thought you knew better than me,” Johnathan snapped. “You thought I could not be trusted to make my own decisions.”
William flinched. “I wanted to protect you, damn it.”
“You betrayed me,” Johnathan said. “And now she is gone.”
“I beg your pardon,” William said. “If there were anything?—”
“There is.”
Johnathan’s voice was like steel now, cold and shaped by fury.
“I am going after her.”
William’s eyes widened. “You cannot. You agreed?—”
“I did not agree to anything,” Johnathan said sharply. “She did. She gave herself up to save me. Do you think I can live with that? Knowing she is in that bastard’s hands?”
“He will be watching for you.”
