< previous page page_327 next page >

Page 327
Thorn's shoulders were squared, the way they had been all morning. Since their latest argument, before breakfast, he hadn't said more than two words to her.
But she'd insisted, despite everything, on coming along.
"I have to be there," she'd argued as she set the trencher of porridge on the puncheon table in the common room for the four of them: Thorn, Holly, René and her. "If that damned duel is the 'grievous wrong' I'm supposed to right and I fail, I may never get home. Though I can't reason with you, maybe there's a chance I can succeed with Will."
"If he has come back to this area solely to extract his revenge, nothing you can say will convince him otherwise," Thorn said calmly.
"I have to try!"
In the end, he'd given in. And now she regretted it. She could have stayed at the inn with Holly and René. They could have waited till word came from the fort about the outcome of the duel, and . . .
No! She sat up straight so vehemently that the boat rocked, and Thorn shot an irritated glance over his shoulder.
"Sorry," she called. But she wasn't sorry. Not at all.
She would convince Will Shepherd he was wrong. She would stop the duel.
Somehow.
They turned a bend in the river, and her heart stopped for an instant. She couldn't see the town or the fort in the distant mist, but she knew they were there. Thorn and she would be there much too soon.
"Thorn," she called impulsively over the sound of the rushing water.
He looked over his shoulder. There was a sheen on his face from the dampness, a hollow resignation in his eyes.
She swallowed hard, wanting to scurry toward him in the pirogue and rest her head against his back, beg him to turn around.
Instead, she said, "How much longer?"
"Are you growing eager?" His attempt at a smile was futile, succeeding only in moving one corner of his otherwise set lips.

 
< previous page page_327 next page >