Evangeline had thought only to fabricate a tale that might see them out of this storm, but Ramsay’s confession had been like a blow to her heart. How she yearned to believe his sweet pledge!
How she wished it had not been solely a jest.
She could make no complaint of his efficiency. In mere moments, he had secured the smith’s own stable as their shelter, embellishing the tale of being a smith himself with such detail that he was believed. Evangeline sighed relief when they were out of the rain, though she dared not aid in brushing down the steeds while the smith himself was present.
The men tended the horses, Ramsay’s Gaelic so fluid that they were never doubted. Evangeline retreated into the shadows of the warm space with Anna and the two women changed to dry kirtles. They ensured that Evangeline’s precious bundle was neatly in place. She kept a cloak and hood to cover her head and shoulders, protesting at the cold, but wishing also to hide her face.
And all the while she complained, haranguing Ramsay for every ill on the earth and more besides. He bore it all, deferring to her with such devotion that any soul might be fooled by his performance. It was only when they four were alone with the horses, a pot of hot stew and a loaf of rye bread that they abandoned their pretense.
The food was good and vanished quickly. The workshop was warm, even without a fire, and the rain drummed on the roof overhead. Evangeline found herself drifting off to sleep. She caught Ramsay’s eye and he nodded once, as good as a promise that he would keep watch, and then she slept.
Her last thought was to wonder again whether his declaration might have been true.
* * *
This lady.Clever and surprising both, she had captured his heart and clearly would hold it fast forever.
Ramsay could have watched Evangeline all the night long.
Instead, he forced himself to consider practicalities. Two more days’ ride or perhaps three. He should buy provisions from the smith’s wife, if possible, before their departure. They could not leave before dawn as the town gates would be secured, and they should not be first, lest their haste draw attention. He would have to hide his impatience to be gone.
Perhaps Evangeline could feign the arrival of the baby to grant them an excuse. He smiled, imagining how well she would do as much.
Long after the others had fallen asleep, Ramsay heard the rain stop. He left their cozy sanctuary and climbed a ladder to the loft, which was filled with hay. The ladder continued to the roof so he continued, wanting to look for any signs of pursuit.
There was an opening and he climbed onto the wet thatch, unsurprised to see the skies clearing overhead and the barest sliver of a moon rising bright. The town slumbered all around him, only the occasional plume of smoke rising from a roof. He heard a dog bark and several goats bleat as he settled onto his perch. His mood was more grim than was characteristic, due to Evangeline’s refusal to wed him.
Her dismissal of him as an eligible suitor burned, and worse, it made him a dishonorable wretch who had claimed what was not his to possess. He should never have taken her maidenhead.
It troubled him that she found him lacking. All his life, he had been a pawn, an asset or a liability, used in one way or another to further the objectives of someone in his family. His father had been unkind to Ramsay because of his mother’s early departure. As a young boy, he had been captivated by her sudden appearance, by hopes and dreams he had not realized he possessed. He had imagined a home and a family, the prospect of being cherished for his nature or his deeds.
Instead, she had abandoned him with all haste at the abode of his uncle, who had quickly dispatched him to an old ally, the Baron of Rainfirth. At Rainfirth, he had been useful as a foil to Talbot, the baron’s son, who trained for his spurs, otherwise he might have been cast from that haven as well. Doubtless, Ramsay’s uncle had believed his nephew would be injured or killed in that training, and never return to Château de Joie. Ramsay had understood, even by the age of seven summers, that he was dismissed and discarded, soon to be forgotten by his kin.
He had come to Scotland to warn Evangeline, perhaps to win her affection, but instead he had only been useful to her. Even if he delivered her safely to Kinfairlie, his own future prospects might be grim.
And yet, he would never willingly abandon her. Aye, he was both smitten and a fool.
Would he never be considered to have merit in his own right? He and Talbot had become good friends, to be sure, but Ramsay’s heart yearned for more. A family of his own seemed beyond aspiration, but surely there was a lady who would hold him in her heart forever.
He had believed that maiden to be Evangeline.
The difficulty was that her view of his nature was not entirely unfounded. Hehadtried to deceive her father five years before and he had not been honest with her of late. His motives were good, but she had no means of knowing as much—and if he tried to tell her now of his success at the joust, of his saved wealth, of his eligibility as a spouse, it would sound like empty boasting.
What Ramsay needed was an outside source to confirm his situation, and one known to Evangeline as a reliable witness. Hugues’ word would carry no weight with her or her family, nor would that of Talbot or Otto, if either had been at hand. Sadly, the sole individual they both knew who might offer such testimony was Rufus Percival.
Not that Evangeline’s betrothed was likely to give Ramsay any good recommendation.
In another situation, or perhaps in another decade—or three—he might find the situation amusing. At the moment, he found it vexing beyond measure. How he disliked to be caught between what he knew to be the sensible choice and the urging of his heart. He should leave. He should return to Normandy—but he still yearned to find a way to win Evangeline’s regard and her hand in his own. The difficulty with a long-held hope is that it proved difficult to discard, even when all odds were stacked against its fulfillment.
Ramsay sighed and frowned at the view.
There was a rustle of cloth and the hair prickled on the back of his neck, his awareness a sure sign of who joined him. He glanced over his shoulder to see Evangeline, emerging from the hole in the roof at the top of the ladder. She might have heard him thinking of her, so timely was her arrival.
She hesitated there, as was not her nature, and though her features were wreathed in shadows, he knew she studied him. “I would speak with you,” she said finally.
“It is safer to sit than to stand,” he said, wishing he had not sounded so abrupt.
Evangeline was not deterred, a detail that prompted his smile.
