She shook her head. “I wasn’t sure. I didn’t actually see anyone, just… felt like someone was there. Then later, near the terrace, I thought I saw a hand—”
“Goddamn it,” Evan growled, surging to his feet. “I would have sent every man in our employ to search the woods. How could you not tell me?”
“I didn’t want to be afraid again, Evan. I didn’t want the nightmares to return if I spoke my fears aloud. Truly, I thought my mind was playing tricks on me. And…” Her voice faltered.
“And?” His tone softened, but irritation still edged his words.
“And I didn’t want to worry you. Every time I wake in the night, I see how it upsets you. I thought if I kept quiet, if I ignored it, the fear would fade.” She let out a shaky breath. “But I’ve felt awful keeping this from you. My stomach has been in knots for days, making me dreadfully sick.”
Evan ran both hands down his face, then drew in a deep breath. He reached for her, pulling her into his embrace.
There wasn’t a single place in the world that felt as safe, or as right, as being in his arms.
His heart pounded against her ear, and he pressed a kiss to her temple. “My job is to protect you. Hang my feelings, love. If something threatens you, I must know.”
She pulled back, meeting his gaze. “And it’s my job to protect you. I thought I was—by keeping the nightmares at bay, by sparing you from the worry.”
Evan’s arms tightened around her. “Is there anything else? Anything you haven’t told me?”
“No. I swear it. I’d almost convinced myself it was just my mind playing tricks.” And now that it was out in the open, relief swept through her.
“You know everything as well,” he said, his usual composure returning. “Let’s retrieve the last of your packages and return home. The house party is in a week, and I’m no closer to putting a face to this threat.”
It all made sense now—why he’d fought so hard against her coming to the village. She was suddenly grateful he’d been insistent about not bringing Arthur.
“I just need to stop at the dressmaker’s. I ordered a few gowns for the party.” The words felt ridiculous given the weight of their conversation. God, how she wished house party preparations were the only thing on her mind—that some faceless blackguard wasn’t lurking in the shadows, waiting.
She patted the pistol in her reticule, finding comfort in its presence. Another thing she must thank Evan for.
“I shall try on the dresses at home and have her attend me there if alterations are required. But I agree that it’s best we depart. I don’t wish to remain in the village.”
Evan gave her a pointed look. “You might recall I tried to dissuade this entire trip.”
She rolled her eyes. So much for thanking him. “You had to say it, didn’t you?”
He laughed, kissing her brow. “Just trying to lighten the mood.”
Marina took his arm with an exaggerated huff, but he slipped his untouched sweet roll into her hand in a silent truce. Her heart squeezed. God, she loved him. Far too damn much. She took a bite, and they continued toward the dress shop.
Through the window, she spotted Mrs. Wilson arranging ribbons, alone in the store.
“Go fetch the carriage,” she told Evan. “I’ll be finished by the time you return.”
His expression darkened. “No. I’m not leaving you alone.”
“It’s just Mrs. Wilson. You’ll be gone for only a few minutes—and you have a clear view of the door.”
He glanced around the street, jaw tight. “I don’t like it.”
She sighed. “We’ll be home sooner if you just go. I won’t step a single foot outside until you return.”
A muscle ticked in his cheek. She knew he hated this. But when he sighed, she knew she’d won.
“Very well,” he huffed. “But do not leave this shop.” He kissed her quickly, then inclined his head toward the door.
Marina smiled and stepped inside, watching through the glass as Evan strode away. She laughed to herself at how quickly he took off once she was inside. He’d be back before she even had time to say a word to Mrs. Wilson.
“Lady Ockham,” Mrs. Wilson greeted her with a warm smile. “Your gowns are ready. Would you like to come with me to the back and you can try them on?”
