Page 66 of The Thornwyck Rose

It might have been different had Henry loved her orhadn’t tried to trap her with a reward of death, or treated her as anything other than a breeding mule. But she had made vows before God. She knew what life awaited with Henry, and she’d made the vows, anyway.

Before she realized it, Erik wiped away a tear.

She startled.

“I apologize,” he blurted.

“It is I who cried,” she said. “I . . . I miss my family.” She spoke half the truth. She’d missed him, too. Missed his embrace, his whisper, his presence, the what could have been tender kiss in the stairwell.

Though she wanted to, she couldn’t let Erik know of her feelings. What a misery it would be to both of them if she did.

He was unmarried and could have any woman he wanted. Why steal that choice from him? It was she who had made the marriage vow.

She swallowed the lump in her throat as his eyes bared his soul before her.

His lips parted as he would speak, but he only averted his gaze to the hearth behind her. She realized his silence was not indifference.

It was something worse—longing with nowhere to go.

She knew then, it wasn’t admiration alone.

He loved her.

She glanced at his lips before returning to his eyes—they were questioning if she felt the same way as he did.

“May the Lord bless your wound. Let it heal quickly,” she stammered.

His hand slowly rose and wiped away another tear. The warmth of his hand soothed her. She closed her eyes and turned her cheek into his touch.

No, she shouldn’t have done that.

“I am glad you have returned to us, my friend,” she whispered.

His fingers twitched at the word “friend.”

The poor man was probably lost on her, both pulling him closer and pushing him away, but she couldn’t trust herself with him anymore. She covered his hand on her cheek andopened her eyes, a few tears escaping with the release. Lowering his hand from her face, she tried to speak, her voice fading.

“I must return to my room.” Her lip trembled. “On behalf of Lord Henry, I grant you permission to see your son.”

She’d take whatever beating Henry gave her for that. Erik needed to see his son. Ragnar missed him so much.

“Please wait here for a little while before going, so Lord Henry’s guards . . . ” Her voice gave out.

It hurt too much—the life she had, the situation she had allowed herself to be in.

He nodded after a moment of silence.

“You are most kind, Lady Seren.”

Her fingers finally fell from his cloak’s brooch, and she took a step backward. Her shadow from the hearth light fell on him. She dipped her chin, voice gone.

She left with a heart beating fast in her chest and didn’t look back. She couldn’t.

Margot asked Isolde to return the supplies to the cellar and followed Seren’s quickened steps. Erik’s blood was still on her hands. She hid them so Lord Henry’s guards and Godric wouldn’t know. She didn’t fully trust them yet, though they’d let one or two things slip by unnoticed, Godric more so.

Once inside her room, Margot grabbed the basin and cloth and scrubbed Seren’s hand.

“Milady,” Margot said with a soft breath as she worked. “I have another secret. The commander asked me to keep it.”