“No. No, I don’t.” Even though his heart would be broken when he finally had to part from her, and he regretted he couldn’t marry her, he wasn’t sorry he had spent these days with her.
He thought perhaps she had fallen asleep, but then she said softly, “Thank you.”
Margaretha woke with a start. Dawn was breaking, spreading a gray light over their spot in the woods. Their fire had died, but Colin was still lying on the ground. She sat up. She’d been dreaming that she and Colin were embracing, and she could still feel the wonderful warmth of his chest. And then, in her dream, he kissed her on the lips with great fervency. It had felt wonderfully real, and as she kissed him back, she had thought, He loves me and doesn’t mind that I talk too much! Then Lord Claybrook’s men pulled them apart. Claybrook turned her around and laughed in her face. Then she awoke.
She could still feel the overpowering emotion of kissing Colin. She blinked, hard, although she wasn’t too sure she wanted to dispel the feeling. “It was only a dream,” she whispered. “Only a dream.” She hugged herself, reliving the security of Colin’s arms last night, as well as in her dream. She only allowed herself a moment of that, then stood up.
“Colin?” She ran over to him. Would he awaken only to have lost part of his memory again? Her heart beat strangely as she looked down at him. She had not hesitated to press her ear to his chest just yesterday. In fact, she had cried in his arms last night. The dream, the sensation of kissing him, was nearly overwhelming, making her reluctant to touch him now. If he knew what was going through her mind . . . Her cheeks heated at the thought.
As she stared down at him, she realized Colin was her friend, but was he more than that? Again remembering their dream kiss, she continued to stare at him.
But he was so still. “Colin?”
He didn’t move. Twice the day before she had thought he was dead. Still, she had an almost uncontrollable urge to again fall to her knees and press her ear to his chest.
Then she noticed he was smiling, his eyes still closed. “Colin?”
He opened his eyes. “Is it morning?” He yawned. “I must have been dreaming.”
“Do you remember everything — where we are and what we’re doing?”
“I think so. We are going to Marienberg to get help from the duke to defeat Claybrook in Hagenheim.”
“Thank the saints above,” she breathed. “You remember.”
“Give me a few minutes and I will be ready to go.” He stood up and turned to go into the woods.
“Colin?”
“Yes?” He turned to look back at her.
Unable to think of anything else to say, she said, “I’m sorry I cried . . . on you . . . last night.”
He seemed to be studying her with those clear blue eyes. With a solemn look, he said, “I didn’t mind.”
What would he do if she ran to him and embraced him? She was so close to doing just that, she shivered and wrapped her arms around herself.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He walked away.
They had no things to gather, so after taking a drink of water, they were on their way again. As they walked, they discussed how long it would take Claybrook’s men to get to Marienberg Castle and find out Colin and Margaretha had not made it there yet. Wouldn’t Duke Theodemar get suspicious? How long would it take Claybrook’s men to come back down the road looking for them?
“Perhaps they won’t recognize us, since I’m wearing a different dress. They won’t expect to see me dressed like a peasant.”
“I hardly think anyone who has ever seen you could mistake you.” A little half smile lifted one corner of Colin’s mouth. “There’s no disguising how beautiful you are, and your hair is striking.”
“You think I’m beautiful?” Her heart seemed to have expanded and crowded out all the breath in her lungs.
“Of course. You are beautiful.” He said it matter-of-factly, then looked at her out of the corner of his eye as they walked side by side.
“My hair is rather unruly, like my mother’s. I should probably try to cover it, or at least braid it.” Her stomach growled, twisting into a knot, it was so empty. She’d heard Colin’s stomach growling earlier. She had no idea how they would acquire food, so she said nothing about the dilemma. A few minutes later, there was a rumble of thunder.
“I do believe it is getting colder,” Margaretha said. “And it’s about to rain.”
The sky had grown quite dark. The wind started blowing, chilling her through her clothes.
Margaretha had heard of desert places near the Holy Land where the sun was always hot and it rarely rained, and of places on the Continent where summers were consistently hot and winters were consistently cold. But in their part of the Holy Roman Empire, the weather was unpredictable, and even in summer they sometimes had cold spells and sleet or hail.
“What is the weather like in England?” she asked as they trudged on. “Is it hot in the summer?”