The fair-haired knight cleared his throat and she wondered if she had been too fulsome. She smiled instead of continuing. Ramsay was so taut that he might have been carved of stone.
“But this cannot be,” the man insisted.
“It can be, for ’tis,” Ramsay said, his tone unyielding.
The man studied him. “And who might you be, sir?” The last salute was unwillingly added, the man’s gaze sweeping over Ramsay’s garb with some disdain. “It appears you have aimed high in your match.”
“Or appearances are not what they might seem to be,” Ramsay agreed smoothly. “I am Ramsay MacLaren. I believe your lord will recognize my name.”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “The name, perhaps, sir, but what evidence can I give him that you are the man in question?”
Ramsay released Evangeline to remove the sapphire ring from his purse, the one he had taken from her finger. His other hand remained upon the hilt of his sword. He turned the ring so that the gem caught the light, displaying it to the other man, and she did not understand the import of his gesture.
That was her betrothal ring. What did its presence in his purse prove about his identity? His possession of it proved only that he was a thief—or that she had granted it willingly to him.
Indeed, she found herself thinking like a bandit already because she watched the gem and considered the value it must have.
Her speculation halted when Ramsay flicked the ring through the air.
Evangeline barely stifled a gasp of surprise. What manner of thief would cast away a treasure worthy of a king’s ransom?
Rufus’ man caught it instinctively, his eyes widening as he realized what he held. He studied it, then looked at Ramsay with astonishment.
If Ramsay expected the return of the gem, he was a fool, to be sure.
But Ramsay spoke with that smooth surety that hinted all proceeded to expectation. “There is the token of your lord’s betrothal to this lady, a betrothal which is broken now that she is my wife. I recognized it at first glimpse.”
Recognized? Evangeline slanted a glance at Ramsay.
The messenger was watching him avidly.
“When you tell your lord my name, tell him also that I recall the lady who wore that ring first. Tell him that I remember the lady Alienor well.”
“Alienor,” the man echoed.
Alienor?Evangeline recalled how Ramsay’s expression had changed when he had first seen the ring upon her finger. She had thought little of his reaction at the time, but now realized he had recognized it.
Something cold unfurled in her belly.
Who was this Alienor?
Chapter 8
“Lady Alienor,” Ramsay repeated and Evangeline could barely restrain her urge to ask for an explanation. The lady’s name was of import to Ramsay, for he had become inscrutable. His blond companion frowned at its mention before similarly turning impassive, while the older man took a step toward their visitor.
What had this Alienor to do with Evangeline’s betrothal ring? How did they all know of her?
There was a detail here that Evangeline neither knew nor understood, and the omission made her deeply uneasy. When a brigand discarded a gem worth a veritable fortune, there was much amiss.
Had Ramsay loved this Alienor? Did he still? Evangeline realized that he had not made a sweet confession to her the night before, although she had not admitted such a detail to him either.
Was it possible that she was a mere pawn in some game of vengeance between Ramsay and Rufus? The very possibility was outrageous—and troubling.
“Go now!” Ramsay’s older companion said to the messenger, his manner so daunting that the man from Dunhaven retreated a step. “Take your dogs and your companions and ride for Dunhaven that Lord Rufus might know his bride is lost.”
“Ramsay MacLaren,” the man repeated, looking at Ramsay.
Ramsay inclined his head slightly. “Indeed.” When the man lingered, Ramsay drew his sword in a gesture as quick as lightning, touching its tip to that man’s chin. “And Lady Alienor. Do not forget.”
