His Destiny by Diana Cosby

the lass. What had he been thinking? Nay, thinking was exactly what he hadn’t been doing. If he had, he would have led her away untouched. Neither did her taste lingering in his mouth help a wit.
    “Come.” Patrik turned and headed north.
    The rustle of leaves echoed as she followed. “What is in the bound leather?”
    “Leave it.” He despised the coolness of his tone; his anger was at himself.
    “Have I somehow upset you?”
    He spun on his heel.
    Cristina halted, her face pale, at odds with her lips swollen from his kiss.
    God, how he wanted her. “I should not have touched you. ’Twas wrong.”
    Her brow dipped in confusion. “What does your kissing me have to do with the missive?”
    “Naught.” He drew in a slow breath, released it. “I am making a mess of this.”
    She hesitated. “You did not enjoy kissing me?”
    Blast it. “Nay, lass, I took great pleasure from the kiss. Far too much.”
    “As I.” Wariness crept into her eyes as she cast a glance toward where he’d stowed the leather-bound document. “Are you wanted?”
    Patrik gave a rough laugh. “As a rebel, aye. Longshanks wishes my head upon a pike.”
    Red slashed her cheeks. “I—”
    “Cristina, the missive I carry is of great import. Should it fall into the wrong hands”—he shook his head—“God help us all. ’Tis why I must see to your safety posthaste. As long as you are with me, you are in danger, more than you could ever believe.”
    “Is that why you were nearby yesterday when the knights almost . . .” Her breath hitched and she looked away.
    Patrik turned her to face him. “I will protect you.”
    Emotion swamped Emma at his selfless offer of protection. Sir Cressingham would be pleased. ’Twould seem she had earned Patrik’s trust, a necessary accomplishment to fulfill the remainder of her task.
    “Your vow is unnecessary,” she said.
    “I wish I could do more.” He pulled a twig from her hair, tossed it aside. “But you cannot matter to me, lass. I have secrets, more than those within the document I carry. I can make no promise to any woman. Yet with you I have. More unsettling, I find no regrets in my heart.”
    She ached at his tenderness. He spoke from his soul, while she wielded naught but lies. “I ask for no promise.”
    A sad smile touched his face. “Not with words, but I see the question in your eyes.”
    She tossed her head, a move for a role played, and despised her deception. “’Tis arrogant you are.”
    “Am I?” He stroked the pad of his thumb over her lower lip. “Tell me, lass, do I matter naught to you?”
    Her carefully chosen words fell away. “Patrik—” “Blast it. My feelings cannot be of import. I have a duty.”
    As did she, but her role as a mercenary lay in shameful tatters. Somehow, within the tangle of a day, they’d connected far beyond what she could have ever imagined. Their troubled pasts, both blackened by tragedy and horror, had bonded them in a way that breeched their defenses.
    Emma remained silent as he turned and strode forward. Patrik didn’t understand ’twas her he would hate. No, hate was too kind a word. After their kiss and supposed exchange of trust, he would curse her to Hades and bid her soul burn for an eternity.
    Regret churned within. She had given her word to complete this mission. If she were to walk away, Sir Cressingham’s fury would know no bounds. A cold and vicious man, he would find her, whatever it took. For the rest of her life, she would be on the run.
    In silence she followed Patrik, trying to lose her worries in the blur of green, the rich scent of forest etched with pine. Flickers of sunlight lit the path ahead, lending innocence to this day.
    Innocence? As if she or Patrik could pretend such.
    The rush of water echoed in the distance. With each step the tumble increased until it was a thunderous roar and the air grew heavy, rich with the taste of moisture.
    As they rounded the next bend, several large boulders came into view.