“Did she? I had forgotten,” Evangeline said mildly, patting the horse.
Ahearn studied her for a long moment, clearly skeptical, then indicated that all should mount to ride on.
Ramsay had not stolen Gealaich, of course. Evangeline had given the horse to him to aid his escape, along with returning his fine crossbow, which had been seized by her father’s guards upon his capture. She had brought him a rope that he might escape the dungeon, and contrived a tale for the guard to ensure he had the chance to make that escape.
The surrender of Gealaich had seemed right in the moment, but since that day, Evangeline had feared for the fate of her favored steed. Yet here the palfrey was, returned, healthy and even pampered.
Evangeline’s heart swelled, for Ramsay could not be so much of a villain as she had always been led to believe. Even if he had few prospects, he was kind to horses. She could forgive a man much for that. Perhaps that detail bode well for Basilisk’s future.
At the very least, it seemed Ramsay was as honorable as she had once hoped.
Could she trust his warning about Rufus?
Ahearn was probably right that the thieves would endeavor to sell Basilisk. But if Ramsay tried to sell both the destrier and the ring, he would surely be caught.
Evangeline was filled with fear for Ramsay at that, for she doubted that any man would judge such a situation kindly, and Rufus Percival might be particularly harsh.
She found herself wondering then what Rufus knew of Ramsay MacLaren—and how soon she could find out.
* * *
“That is a horse,”Talbot said when Ramsay’s company had regathered.
The other knight had chestnut hair and an easy manner, though he had no quibbles with challenging Ramsay on any manner. They were of an age and good friends, though Talbot was the son of the Baron of Rainfirth and had been raised with considerable advantage, while Ramsay had none. Talbot oft teased that Ramsay won more consistently at the joust because he had been given so little in his life and was always prepared to earn it. More than once, Ramsay had wondered if his friend had named matters aright in jest.
Ramsay looked down at Basilisk then back at his friend as if this was a revelation. “Indeed.”
“Aye, the boy always had a keen eye for detail,” Otto said, his tone grumpy.
The two younger knights ignored him. Talbot urged his steed to canter alongside Ramsay’s destrier. The black stallion followed behind, alongside Otto’s destrier. “I had understood that we rode to Scotland for you to warn a lady of her pending match.”
“Aye,” Ramsay agreed grimly.
“Even to offer yourself instead of that man, if necessary.”
“I was not committed to that course.”
Talbot shook his head. “I regret to inform you that you have erred, my friend. That creature is a stallion.”
The squires snickered even as Ramsay ignored his comrade. He knew Otto cast a quelling glance at the boys because they fell silent, and they dropped back a distance. Otto had always believed that one should be invited to a conversation or a confidence, though he himself frequently ignored that counsel.
Indeed, Otto urged his destrier to canter on Ramsay’s other side. ’Twas clear they meant to harass him, and the jesting would grow worse if they learned that Evangeline had refused him, but Ramsay was still too annoyed to welcome a joke.
Would Evangeline have replied differently if he had been garbed for tournament? Had she only declined him because of her assumptions about his prospects? Or had she truly become so biddable as to meekly wed a man chosen for her, without demanding more detail?
Any of the possibilities were irksome and Talbot would doubtless make merry with them all. Ramsay was not truly troubled as a result when the black stallion nipped at the hind of Talbot’s horse.
“If you mean to offer your affections to a stallion, I must protest such an unconventional choice,” Talbot continued merrily. Ramsay ignored him. “Surely you did not mistake one for the other, the lady for her mount or the steed for the damsel?”
Otto grunted with what might have been amusement.
Ramsay fixed his friend with a look, hoping to silence him with the truth. “She declined me.”
Talbot grinned. “Zounds! Who might have believed that there are two women in all of Christendom who would willingly choose Rufus Percival over Ramsay MacLaren?”
Ramsay stifled the urge to snarl at the injustice of that.
“There are tidings to humble a man,” Otto contributed.
