Page 44 of One Knight in the Forest

“Cyn?” she whispered, a chill of dread crawling down her spine.

“I look forward to getting your drawing of the vial, as well as a written statement of what occurred here today.”

“Of course. I can do that now. I will ask the barman—”

He squeezed her fingers. “You can work on it once you reach Glemstow.”

“Glemstow?”

“’Tis best if you leave now. I will have a couple of my men escort you home.”

He spoke as if ’twas the right course of action for her. Yet, she didn’t want to leave his side, especially not when he was going to have a red-hot iron pressed to his flesh. No matter how brave he intended to be, the pain would be horrendous.

“I know what you are thinking, Magdalen, but I want you to go.”

Her heart ached so badly, she could hardly breathe. “Why?”

“I need to get accounts from all of the folk in this room. I must also take the traitors to the town gaol. My duties will demand all of my attention for the rest of the night.”

“I understand. If I can help—”

“There is also another matter I must resolve.” His tone roughened. “One I should have settled long ago.”

His killing of Andrew while on Crusade. That long-simmering torment shadowed Cyn’s gaze and threaded through his words. How she yearned to wrap her arms around him, to kiss him, but he seemed determined to shut her out.

“I will not go,” she said, pressing her other hand over his.

Sadness flickered across his features. “You must.”

“But—”

“I care about you Magdalen. I care a great deal. For us to be together, though—”

Oh, God. “’Tis what I want, too! So very much.”

He shook his head, averted his gaze. “I must be worthy of you.”

She choked down a sob. “You are!”

“Nay, I am not.”

Despair knotted inside her, tangling her joy, hopes, desperation into a snarl of confusion. As he pulled his hand free of hers, she asked, “W-what will you do?”

“I will ride to London to speak with the King; there is no greater authority in this land. I am going to confess all that happened that day on Crusade, and I will accept his judgment.”

Tears burned her eyes. “What then?”

Cyn shrugged. “Then I pray that my soul will be free. If I deserve punishment for my actions and for all of the years I kept my silence, I will face it with dignity and honor, knowing that I am a better man…because of you.”

“Oh, Cyn,” she whispered, tears trailing down her face. “Please, do not make me leave you.”

“We found an iron that will work,” William said, returning from the rear of the tavern with a metal stick as long as her arm. He shoved it into the blaze.

“Good,” Cyn said over his shoulder. “Magdalen should return to Glemstow.”

“Agreed,” William said. “I will send some of my men to escort her.”

“Please, Cyn,” Magdalen said, hating how lost she sounded. “Please, I lov—”

“Go,” Cyn rasped, gently pushing her in William’s direction.

Oh, God, she was losing him.

“Cyn!” she sobbed.

The chair scraped as he rose and headed for the hearth. “Be well, Magdalen, until we meet again.”