The Hawk: A Highland Guard Novel (39 page)

He wouldn’t even look at her.

“We’ll be married as soon as I can secure a priest.”

Her heart stopped.
Married.
The word she’d longed to hear uttered coldly and without emotion. It was exactly what she’d feared, and why she hadn’t wanted to tell him her identity. Because she knew that the cursed nobility of his would rear its cruel head. She was Lady Elyne de Burgh, his king’s sister by marriage and daughter of one of the most powerful men in Christendom. He had no choice but to marry her.

It might be illogical, but she would not marry a man she loved. Not when the offer was motivated by duty and not emotion. Unrequited love held no illusions for her. She would not make her mother’s mistake and think she could make a man love her with the force of her own will.

Inside, Ellie felt like crumbling, crawling into a ball and sobbing her sorrow in a pathetic heap. But her pride wouldn’t let her. She was Lady Elyne de Burgh. He would never know how much he hurt her—or how hard it was for her to refuse him.

“That won’t be necessary,” she said with all the emotion of his “offer.”

His eyes were like slits. “Need I remind you exactly why it is necessary?”

She didn’t give him the satisfaction of flushing. She wasn’t ashamed of what they’d done, and he wasn’t going to make her be.

“I appreciate your gallant
offer
, but it isn’t necessary. I’m already betrothed.”

If Ellie thought she’d ever seen him angry, she was wrong. The change was so startling that she gasped and instinctively recoiled. In the semidarkness of the approaching dawn, his eyes turned pale blue and utterly cold, utterly merciless. The handsome Norseman had become the ruthless Viking.

He made a move toward her. For a moment she actually feared him.

She thought he might grab her, but he was perfectly still. Too still. She’d never realized how menacing still could be.

“Who?” The single word fell like an executioner’s axe.

An icy trickle slithered down her spine, but she refused to show her fear. “Sir Ralph de Monthermer.”

His eyes flared with dangerous intensity. “You are full of surprises, aren’t you, Lady Elyne? I heard of your engagement, though I admit I didn’t connect it with my abducted nursemaid and the new ‘earl’s’ recent interest in a message from Dunaverty.”

Ellie paled. “He’s been looking for me?”

“Quite ardently, it appears.”

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 fiancé 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.”

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.

Ellie felt ill. She couldn’t believe that the man she’d considered a friend had betrayed not only Hawk but also his own uncle.

What else had he told them?

She turned away sharply, addressing Ralph. “How
did
you find me?”

“Randolph was certain the rebel would head for Ireland.”

Dear God, had Thomas told Ralph the plan? Giving no hint to the panic rising inside her, her eyes flickered to Thomas.

“Hawk told me he intended to take you home,” Thomas explained.

She bit back the sigh of relief at his half-truth. Apparently, Thomas hadn’t completely betrayed them. Their eyes held for a moment before she turned back to Ralph for him to continue.

“We laid a trap in the channel last night, but when the storm hit we were forced to retreat. I was certain the outlaw would do the same, but Randolph assured me the storm would not stop him. As soon as the storm abated we set sail for Ireland. He is more reckless than I imagined.” Ralph’s face darkened. “The fool could have killed you both.”

She placed her hand on his arm. “He saved my life,” she said truthfully. “More than once.” Tears pricked her eyes. “Whatever else he might have done, I am here, and he is gone. All I want to do is go home and forget.”