Summer knelt, holding out her arms, and several of the children crowded forward to hug her, patting her hair and face. She closed her eyes, tears sliding down her face. “Be good,” she whispered. Laurence, who seemed to be a leader of the small band, coaxed the children away from her, and they stood in a cluster.
She stood up, brushing off her skirts, and turned to Sir Isaac. “Quickly. Please.” She kept her eyes down.
Sir Isaac watched the scene before him with a sad little smile, wishing that he could have that, but he quickly shook the thoughts away, repeatedly reminding himself that he had a job to carry out. He hated the fact that she was crying though, but it had to be done. Despite the fact that they’d only just met, he felt connected to her, to the point where he couldn’t leave her here.
He nodded and scooped her up to sit on the saddle, before clambering up behind her. “Laurence…should you ever need me, send word to the Hales, alright? I will ride through the night to get here if I have to.”
“Yes, sir,” the boy said solemnly. The two siblings looked at each other, and Summer gave a short, sharp nod, which Laurence returned. Then she resolutely turned her face forward, holding on to the saddlehorn.