Even that much was slow to fall from his lips and Evangeline strove to simplify the confession for him. Clearly, he was not accustomed to exchanging confidences. “And she was a beauty, much pursued by all the knights who rode to tournament,” she supplied. “Possessed of grace, charm and an affluent father.”
“Do you know of her?” he asked in a teasing tone.
“It is like a tale, Ramsay. Like all the tales. Dare I hope she had a tongue that could sting like a scorpion? Or a foul nature disguised by her beauty? An avarice that could never be sated? Or was she cursed with blunt speech, perhaps a compulsion to tell the truth in any circumstance.”
Ramsay shook his head. “She was kind and sweet.”
Evangeline grimaced. “Obedient and thoughtful of others?”
“Aye.” There was a wickedness in his tone and a glint in his eyes, a hint that he teased her. “She most assuredly was not willful, or impulsive, or stubborn,” he continued, a thread of laughter in his tone. “And I may swear upon my own life that she never defied her father, not with so much as a word.” He dropped his voice low to murmur in her ear. “She certainly never aided a prisoner in her father’s dungeon to escape that man’s wrath.”
Evangeline’s heart fluttered, as it seemed inclined to do in this man’s presence. “Such maidens do not deserve to be featured in tales,” she said and Ramsay chuckled. “Born with every advantage, they continue from triumph to triumph. I like a tale of adversity being overcome, of lovers whose affection is challenged at every turn, or of villains redeemed by the power of love.”
“Of lovers whose families oppose their union?”
“Aye! People in tales should change, Ramsay, otherwise there is little point in the telling.” She straightened a little. “I should like to hear a tale of a man who plans all in advance, who risks his life, perhaps at tournament, but never his heart.”
Ramsay nodded. “Until he meets a lady who defies expectation, one he cannot anticipate, who demands more of him than he knows how to grant.”
“Aye,” she agreed. “Or a tale of an impulsive maiden, one who fears to become no more than chattel when she weds.”
His smile broadened. “’Twill not happen to her.”
“Not after she meets a man whose very presence is an adventure.”
Ramsay scrutinized her, as if he did not dare to believe her. “But this is not a tale, spun for the amusement of others, my lady. It happened.” She heard the merriment fade from his voice. “And Alienor did change. She died a maiden, much to her father’s dismay and the culprit was never found.” Once again, his gaze was fixed on the distance, his thoughts claimed by this Alienor.
“You loved her,” Evangeline said softly when he did not speak.
“I admired her.”
“You mourn her, Ramsay.” She sounded cross and she knew it, but Evangeline was not inclined to share this man’s affections with any other lady. “Do not pretend to feel less than you do.” Her voice broke and she pulled away from him a little. “Do not placate me with atale.”
“I do neither,” he said with welcome heat. “Understand, my lady, that I admired Alienor and I liked her, but she did not claim my heart for her own.” He met her gaze, an entreaty in his own, and Evangeline caught her breath, both dreading his confession and impatient for it. “She swore she loved me. She wished me to ask her father for her hand.”
She might have looked away, but Ramsay touched her chin with a fingertip, compelling her to look into his eyes. “But I thought she deserved a man who loved her for herself, not one who wed her for the advantage of an alliance with her father. She did not capture my heart, my lady, for it was in your possession since I first saw you at Inverfyre.”
Evangeline gasped.
“Youclaimed my heart with a glance, my lady, and it has been yours ever since.” Ramsay spoke with such vigor that Evangeline’s heart sang. “It will always be yours.” He took a breath and said the words. “I love you, my lady. I would not have come to Scotland to warn you otherwise, and I would not have let such intimacy occur between us without such regard.”
“Ramsay!” she whispered and reached for him, intent upon a triumphant kiss.
For truly, there could be naught more celebratory than such a confession.
* * *
Ramsay should never have underestimatedthe persuasive power of the truth. With Evangeline in his arms and the stars emerging overhead, he was filled with a buoyant sense of well-being, convinced of their future prospects.
Aye, there was still the matter of Rufus, her nuptial agreement and her family’s hatred of his own, but did love not conquer all? In this moment, Ramsay could not believe otherwise.
“Tell me why you dislike Rufus,” Evangeline invited eventually, turning the conversation to one topic that did not give Ramsay joy. All the same, he wished her to know what he knew.
“I have repeatedly seen him cheat, then lie about his own deeds. ’Tis a foul thing for a knight’s sworn word to be a known falsehood.”
She pulled back to study him, her eyes filled with curiosity. “How did he cheat?”
“At tournament. Do not forget the wealth of riches that can be earned at such an event.”
