“I never cry,” she said with some vexation and he smiled.
“Of course not,” he agreed, that winsome twinkle in his eyes making her smile in return. He nodded with surety. “It must be water from the stream.”
She laughed despite herself at the very notion and wished she could lose herself forever in the warmth of his eyes. All too soon, he stepped back, though his hands lingered on her waist.
“The wet kirtle must go,” he said firmly. “I will take a blade to the laces myself if you will not surrender it. We have a long ride this day to my sanctuary, and you are already chilled.”
“I will not leave the garments behind,” she insisted, even as Anna came to her.
“I will shed a dry one, my lady,” the maid said.
“You wear two garments?” Ramsay asked and when the women nodded agreement, as if there was naught uncommon in such a choice, he shook his head. He retreated, taking his own cloak from Evangeline’s shoulders and holding it high, that she might have a measure of privacy. “At least you found the horse,” he said.
“He is a fine steed.”
Ramsay grinned. “Aye, I have an eye for horseflesh, to be sure.”
His easy comment recalled Evangeline to more practical concerns. As she changed with Anna’s assistance, she considered the situation of her unexpected defender. Why had Ramsay not journeyed further from Inverfyre in five years? And why did he persist in a life of banditry?
The dapple destrier nuzzled him with affection, another sign that he was good to the steeds. But simply having such a horse in his possession, if he had stolen it—and she could not fathom how else a man of his circumstance might have come by such a fine stallion—put his very future at risk, no matter how well he treated the creature.
Did he have no care for his own welfare? He would be a penniless ruffian until the day he died, which might be soon given his choice of victim. Noblemen did not suffer the theft of a destrier easily. Fear for Ramsay’s future flooded through her and her tone was sharper than she had intended when she spoke.
“Why would you steal such a horse?” she asked, stepping out from behind the cloak in a dry kirtle. Her heart took an unexpected leap when Ramsay’s smile broadened. Had there ever been a more handsome rogue born? She feared she might make an impulsive choice in his presence, for his effect upon her was considerable.
“Why do you assume he is stolen?”
“Because I know the cost of such fine steeds, and you cannot have such an abundance of coin.”
“Perhaps I once did.”
“Ramsay! You are reckless beyond all to ride him openly if he is stolen.”
Ramsay’s manner was confident, as if she was the one who had matters wrong. “I say he was a gift.”
Evangeline fairly ground her teeth, that he would play a game of words with a matter of such seriousness. “But it is the same horse you rode before.”
“Aye, I brought him with me to Dunhaven.”
Evangeline shook her head, despairing of his prospects. “No one will miss such a creature for a moment. If you had to steal him, you should have sold him with all haste.”
“Never!” Ramsay said with vehemence, evidence that he valued his hide less than she did.
Evangeline felt compelled to explain his error to him, so great was her fear that he would soon have to pay a price for it. “But the horse, Ramsay! It will be your doom.”
“This steed? He is too well-mannered to throw me.”
“That is not what I mean and you must know it. You might have taken a palfrey or a more humble mount…”
“Ah, but a man has need of a destrier to appear to advantage.” Ramsay said and Anna eyed him with admiration. He inclined his head to Evangeline again, bowing with a flourish. “And truly, my lady, I could only wish to appear thus to you.”
Evangeline shook her head at him, despairing of his levity. “I make no jest, Ramsay. You will find yourself at the end of a noose, or cast into another dungeon.”
He returned to her side, his gaze intent despite his smile. The combination made Evangeline catch her breath, especially when he lowered his voice to a whisper.
“Surely you cannot be concerned for my welfare, my lady?” He was so clearly certain that she must be, that Evangeline dared not reply, even when he touched a finger beneath her chin, urging her to meet his gaze. There was a merry glimmer in his eyes, to be sure, but also a solemnity and she could not look away. She felt that he peered into her very heart and she blinked rapidly, striving to hide her secrets. The last thing she wished him to know was how she admired him.
Why did she findthisman so alluring, above all others?
