The silence was expectant. Derica struggled to keep the smile on her face. “It is time, I see.”
“Aye,” he agreed. “Will you walk with me to the door?”
She slipped off the table and slid her hand into his enormous one. Together, they walked to the open door where the rain pounded outside. Derica was about to walk outside but he held her back.
“Not outside, sweetheart,” he said. “I shall take my leave of you here, where it is dry.”
She looked at him, those enormous green eyes bright with emotion. He smiled at her, memorizing every last line of her sweet face. He committed it to memory, to keep him warm on the long cold nights to come. He ran a delicate finger along her jawline, touching the honey-colored hair that tickled her face. He couldn’t discern any other emotion at the moment other than deep, agonizing longing.
“I hope to make good time, but this weather is a bit of an obstacle,” he realized he was struggling to keep his emotions in check. “If all goes well, I should be in Chepstow in three or four days. I plan to meet with William, explain the situation, and beg my leave. Hopefully he will be gracious about it, but if not, ’tis of no matter. I shall try to make my stay at Chepstow no longer than a day. With luck, I shall return in a week, mayhap ten days.”
She nodded. “Then we shall look for you then. What happens if it takes longer? Will you send word?”
He shook his head. “I don’t dare. I cannot be certain that the de Rosa’s aren’t lingering somewhere around Chepstow, thinking that perhaps I may take you there. I doubt they would move on me if you are not at my side. The object is to find you,and if they kill me, they will eliminate all hope. I cannot take the chance that a messenger would be followed.”
“And lead them right to me,” she murmured.
“Exactly.”
She digested that. “They will try to get you somehow. My father is very clever.”
“I know,” Garren gazed up at the gray sky. “For that very fact, I wonder if he will not go to Chateroy to abduct my father. He may anticipate a hostage-for-hostage exchange.”
“Your father for me?”
“Something like that. I cannot rule out any possibility.”
Derica fell silent. She traced the lines of his armor, running her fingers over his breastplate, simply to keep her hands busy. “Garren, what happens if you do not return?”
He looked at her. “I swore to you that I would.”
She met his gaze. “But you cannot guarantee it. Certainly, I am not asking you to because I know that you cannot. But if you do not return in a month or two or three, what should I do?”
He sighed, heavily, realizing she was more willing to face the reality of it than he was. “You’re not going to like my answer.”
“What is it?”
“Have Emyl take you back to Framlingham.”
She stiffened. “I will not.”
He tightened his grip before she could pull away. “Listen to me, sweetheart. ’Tis the safest place for you, and I want you safe and well-cared for. Your father is after me, not you. He’ll forgive you should you return. ’Tis the most logical solution.”
Her brow was furrowed like an angry child. “I will not go home. There is nothing for me there. They’ll simply try to marry me off again and won’t have any part of it, do you hear? I won’t marry ever, again.”
“Then what would you suggest?”
“That I go to the abbey with your sister.”
He had to admit that her answer pleased him, but he was positive that it was because he was being selfish. “You have a right to be happy in life should I not be at your side. I want you to be happy. Do you think you would truly be happy in the cloister?”
“I do not know. But I believe I would be happier there than married to some pompous fool whose only ambition is to be politically linked to the de Rosa name.” She stopped struggling, gazing deeply into his eyes. “Garren, do you think if I returned home that I would be a desirable marriage prospect? Of course not. My father would more than likely sell me to an arrogant French mercenary who can pay for the de Rosa name. Marrying me into a decent family was lost the moment I fled Framlingham. Is that the kind of life you would hope for me?”
She had turned it around on him admirably. He knew the political game of noble marriages as well as or better than she did, and knew she spoke the truth. His heart sank to think of what would become of her should he not return.
“Nay,” he said quietly. “And I suppose I should be more pragmatic than I have been. Truly, my intention is to return to you. It is my only thought. But if by chance the fates are against us, then you should know your next move. If I do not return within six weeks, then go to Yaxley Nene and stay with my sister until you have decided what you wish to do. No one can touch you there, especially your family. If you wish to devote yourself to the cloister, then so be it. But if you wish to return to your family, then I shall support your decision.”
“You’re sure that is what you wish me to do?”
