Instead, he tugged at the tether and fought the bit, rolling his eyes toward the closed door. It seemed less a fit of temper than an attempt to make his desire clear.
Ramsay looked between the horse and the door. Where would the stallion wish to go?
“Is your lady in peril?” Ramsay asked impulsively and the horse stilled, eying him warily. “How could you know such a detail?” The horse’s ears folded back, as if he disliked the query. “Shall I go to her, boy? Shall I retrieve her?”
The horse whinnied and stamped a foot, tossing his head as if to urge Ramsay to haste. Ramsay’s decision was made. He dared not take this unpredictable horse on such a quest, but he would undertake the mission. Hugues, efficient as ever, was already lifting Foudre’s saddle to that stallion’s back.
Within moments, Ramsay was in the saddle himself. “I will return as soon as I can.”
“That is no plan!” Otto complained, looking disgruntled that he had been roused before dawn.
“If I do not return in two days, ride south to Normandy without me,” Ramsay said. “You will know that I have been detained against my own choice.”
“I will ride with you,” Talbot offered, looking as disheveled as Otto.
“Nay, I ride to aid the lady alone. I may evade detection better thus.”
“And you leave us with that horse?” Otto muttered, sparing a glance at the black destrier. That steed seemed to have calmed, though it watched Ramsay with interest.
“Two days,” Ramsay repeating, turning Foudre. Hugues had already opened the door, admitting a slice of night, and held out a packed saddlebag for his knight.
“Au revoir!” Ramsay cried, seizing the bag as he gave Foudre his heels.
* * *
On her secondnight at Dunhaven, Evangeline could not sleep.
She listened to Anna’s soft snores as the maid slept and fairly drummed her fingers with impatience. She should sleep. There was no causenotto sleep. It was true that Ahearn and the rest of the party from Inverfyre had departed and that she was alone among strangers save for Anna, but that should not keep her awake. If she looked tired in the morning, Rufus would doubtless be insulted and she could do without the task of mending his wounded pride.
How curious that she already sensed what would ignite his fury or prick his pride. How uncommon that she already dreaded his moods.
There, indeed, was the key to her sleeplessness. Rufus. Try as she might, Evangeline could not like him. She could not admire him, nor even respect him. She disliked him with a vehemence exceptional even to herself. ’Twas not simply that he had not been her choice, though she had allowed that to be a possible explanation.
She did not trust him. That was a poor portent for a future bound to his side.
Evangeline could not blame her father for her situation. She liked Rufus’ father very much and could see why her father would respect him. Lawrence was not a witless man, by any accounting, and he had a gracious and kindly manner. She did not doubt that he was resolute when the situation required as much and decisive in his own court, but he accepted the foibles of others with an easiness she found admirable.
Indeed, in her own father’s place, she would have believed that Lawrence Percival’s sole son and heir could only be an echo of his father, and that such a man would make Evangeline happy.
She might have spent the hours of darkness trying to determine how a son could be so unlike his father, but Evangeline saw little point in ruminating over a detail that could not be changed. She was more concerned with her own fate: how could she escape these planned nuptials? Ahearn had ridden to Kinfairlie, intending to enquire after any sightings of Basilisk on the way, and her entire family would be planning their departures for Dunhaven for the celebration of her wedding.
Her father’s pledge had been made. Her dowry had been paid. Her betrothed’s father was in agreement and she had no ally in this keep save her maid. There could be no opportunity for an undetected escape from these walls, and truly, Evangeline did not desire to be alone in a forest rife with bandits and vagabonds.
What if she did not discover a good cause to put the match aside before her family’s arrival for the nuptials?
That was the prospect that kept Evangeline awake.
She rose to open the shutters and look into the night, unable to avoid thinking of one particular scoundrel. She bit back a smile, remembering Ramsay’s wondrous kiss, and sighed that he should be both destitute and lost to a life of petty banditry.
Undoubtedly that was part of his appeal, but Evangeline knew better than to trust in such dangerous charm. She was her mother’s daughter deep inside, however different the pair might appear at a glimpse. Evangeline possessed more than a measure of practicality.
The skies were overcast, the stars hidden from view, and the night seemed darker as a result. It rained slightly, just a patter against the walls, and all within view shone wetly. It was damp and chilly, cold enough to make her glad of such shelter. Indeed, the weather might have been granting her a reminder that a life in the forest was not for those who savored their comforts such as she.
No man’s kiss could be worth that.
Impatient with the direction of her thoughts, Evangeline left the shutters open and turned toward the bed. She had to sleep and soon.
She had one knee on the mattress when she heard a whisper from the corridor. She paused to listen. Not one whisper, but two. Urgent ones, as if an argument was being held in hushed tones, but the disagreement was no less vehement for that. It was true enough that naught snared at the ear like a persistent whisper.
