She struggled against the weight of his gloved hand, thrashing as she fought to survive, and Nigel’s dagger slipped from her grasp. The water was not overly deep, perhaps up to her knees, but it was deep enough that she could not recover the blade readily. She felt beneath herself, hoping to locate it by touch on the rocky bottom of the stream, but knew that she had not much time.
Just as she feared she would lose consciousness and Rufus would triumph, the weight of his hand abruptly eased. He could not have changed his mind! Evangeline broke the surface, gasping for air, only to see Rufus staring into the distance in astonishment.
There was a line of blood through Rufus’ hair, though she could not explain its presence. He glared at her as she remained crouched before him, still feeling along the river bed for Nigel’s dagger. “Who is your ally, my lady? I will see both of you slaughtered before I am done.”
“I have no allies in this holding, that much is clear.”
“Does your sister follow to defend you?”
Her sister? Someone must have loosed the bolt of a crossbow at him, just in time to ensure her own survival. But who?
In that moment, Evangeline found the dagger. She surged to her feet and stumbled toward Rufus, much hampered by the weight of her wet kirtle. All the same, she surprised him and managed to nick his cheek with the blade.
He struck her hard, so hard that she fell backward again. She knew he would drown her or throttle her, and recalled a feint she had often used with Nigel. She guessed her sole means of escape was to pretend he had succeeded.
Evangeline let herself go limp and deliberately slipped beneath the surface again. She remained there, holding her breath, knowing that he watched her. She felt herself taken by the current of the river and moved downstream, though her progress was slow for she was close to the shore. Even so, each increment of distance made it less likely that Rufus would discern her breathing.
The moments dragged long and she felt her vision fading, but still she gave no indication of life. When her chest was aching, Rufus suddenly pivoted and splashed from the river with furious steps.
Only then did Evangeline dare to rise closer to the surface and steal a breath, peering after him through her lashes. She need not have worried, for he did not look back.
“Show yourself, villain!” he cried, but only the silence of the forest answered him. On the shore, he flung himself into his saddle with vexation and swore with vigor. He glared once in her direction, then turned the horse with impatience. He gave the creature his heels and hastened back through the forest.
What tale would he tell? Evangeline did not doubt that her deeds would not be shown with favor. There was no sign of Rufus’ assailant, leaving her wondering whether anyone truly had come to her aid.
Perhaps another of the hunting party had missed their prey.
Perhaps an archer less competent than those in her family had lost sight of his bolt.
Evangeline climbed to the shore and strove to wring out her garments without success. She might not be drowned or slaughtered, but she would die this night if she did not find shelter and warmth.
Where was she? She had no notion of the terrain around Dunhaven, or even its immediate neighbors. She wished she had paid closer attention to her father’s attempt to teach her of her new home, but maps were of little interest to Evangeline. She learned a place by walking or riding through it.
Rufus likely had led her to an area with few inhabitants, if any, given his plan. Nay, she could not lose hope. She would not surrender. She would escape this fiend and find safety, and she would not leave Anna behind. If she could shape her future by will alone, Evangeline would do it, no matter how chilled she was.
“Neither me nor my maid,” she said, lifting her chin, as if her words might bolster her own spirits. “Not this day.”
“Nor your palfrey,” a man said at close proximity and her heart stopped cold.
Evangeline spun to find a cloaked man standing on the lip of the forest. There was a crossbow in one hand, a weapon of fine craftsmanship that she remembered well. He held the reins of Gealaich with his other hand. The palfrey was nosing at his satchel, clearly sufficiently familiar with him to know where he routinely stored apples.
He shook back his hood as she stared at him in trepidation, then smiled crookedly at her. “Well met, my lady Evangeline,” he said and Evangeline’s heart melted in relief and recognition.
Ramsay!
* * *
Ramsay had arrived in time.
Even as he greeted Evangeline, his heart was still racing with fear. He had feared that matters went awry when Rufus led Evangeline away from the others. He had wished for a horse in that moment with all his heart, but could only run with all his strength in pursuit.
With another man, the ploy might have been an attempt to have an intimate moment alone with his betrothed. Knowing Rufus as he did, Ramsay had feared the worst.
He had reached the stream to find Rufus holding Evangeline forcibly beneath the surface of the water. The fiend! Ramsay’s reaction had been purely instinctive. The bolt was loaded and flying for its target immediately. He had aimed to kill but for once in his life, Ramsay missed.
For Rufus had abruptly bent lower as the bolt was in flight, as if to grind Evangeline into the stream bed. It was curious to consider it good fortune that Rufus’ own viciousness had saved that man’s life.
The bolt had parted Rufus’ hair so neatly that the man staggered, loosing his hold on Evangeline. Ramsay imagined there was a line across his scalp where the hair had been seared away and Rufus had paled even as he spun to seek his assailant.
