He had been certain the suggestion would please her and had been prepared to accept the risk of being seen by others. The priest would have to know their names, as well, which meant that Rufus would be able to discover that they had visited the town, but Ramsay would risk his all to see Evangeline content.
And truly, he did not imagine that their passing would long remain a secret.
Evangeline frowned. “We would be seen, and named before witnesses,” she said, her thinking as pragmatic as his own.
“Aye, but ’twould be worth as much to see you reassured of our match.”
Her frown deepened as she surveyed him. “We have no match, Ramsay. We had a mating and I do not regret it, but you need not pretend it is more than that.”
“And so we disagree, as before, on the details, but I would end our sole dispute. I would stand before the priest in that town this very day, repeat my vows to you, and eliminate any doubt that we are wed.”
To his surprise, Evangeline did not readily concur. Indeed, she bit her lip and bent to brush the horse’s thigh, vanishing from view before reappearing on the other side of the black beast. Ramsay sensed that she had deliberately put the steed between them as a barrier, though he could not imagine why.
“’Tis not the sole dispute between us,” she said with quiet conviction. She was too solemn for him to be reassured. Indeed, he had a sense that all went awry before his own eyes. “You must know as much.”
“What then?”
She studied him over the horse’s back. “I will not wed you, Ramsay. You must know as much.”
His heart sank to his toes even as he protested. “I do not know that, for youhavewed me,” he replied, keeping his voice low. She would see herself imperiled and he could not fathom why she insisted upon such a course. Only marriage to him could save her from Rufus, though even that might not be sufficient.
“You must see that it might not be prudent for us to be wed.”
Prudent? What had such a word to do with his bold lady?
What troubled her in truth? She had welcomed him with enthusiasm the night before. What had changed?
“Whyever not?” he asked, genuinely puzzled.
“Do not be insulted,” Evangeline entreated, a plea in her eyes that tore at his heart. “But you could not truly expect me to live as you do, Ramsay.”
’Twas ironic that he might have said the same but a day before, though now he had seen her ride hard without complaint and eat horsebread when there was naught else. It seemed to him in this moment that Evangeline was more able to deal with adversity than most women he had known.
There was a constriction in Ramsay’s throat, for he feared this was but half the answer. “Whyever not?” he asked, needing her to say it all aloud.
“Because I am not accustomed to having no abode. For a night or two, it is an adventure of a sort to sleep in the forest or make a refuge in an abandoned ruin. A week of living thus would be sobering. A month would be troubling. A year would have you regretting you had ever bound yourself to me.” Evangeline wrinkled her nose and finished the last bite of horsebread she held, and he recognized that she tried to make a jest to lighten the moment. “I fear I can become shrewish in discomfort and that would bring no joy to you.”
“But we pledged to each other last night. I wed you honorably before our match was consummated.” Ramsay heard his tone harden. “We are wed, my lady.”
She shrugged, though her gaze was shadowed. “’Tis your word against mine, Ramsay. We might simply remember the night fondly and confess the truth of it to no one.” She lifted her gaze to hold his steadily, though he sensed that she was less confident of her view than she wished him to believe.
Ramsay, for his part, was shaken by her refusal. He admitted that she did not know the truth of his finances, but to be refused by the lady he adored for his apparent lack of coin cut deeply. Coin had no place in matters of true love. He had been smitten with a glance and he wanted her to desire him the same way.
Was that so wrong?
“Because you do not desire me sufficiently to endure any discomfort.” He said it aloud, granting her the chance to refute his conclusion.
But Evangeline did not. “I prefer to say that I recognize the truth of my nature and would spare you from the inevitable ordeal. I would not be a good wife for a poor man.”
Even the words made him wince. “What of love?”
She turned away, hiding her thoughts from him, though her words left no doubt of them. “No one of sense can believe that to be a sound foundation for a match.” She gestured. “There is duty and there is desire, both of which can be compelling motivations, though truly only duty is of import when it comes to marriage.”
“Only duty?”
“Desire can scarce be considered a reliable measure of much more than itself. Once satisfied, it can fade as surely as if it had never been, by tales I have heard. On the morrow, you might not even lust for me.”
“Nay. I will.” There was no doubt within him of that.
