“I am concerned with your future, my lady.” The forest was still around them as he studied her. “I have dreamed of you,” he confessed softly, the very tone of his voice melting her reservations. “I mean to save you from a match you cannot possibly desire.”
Evangeline shook her head in vexation. “But I am compelled to desire it, for my father made the agreement. You must see as much.”
Ramsay shook his head slightly, his gaze unswerving. “I do not recall you being so docile.”
“Nor do you recall me being so old.” How curious that it was easy to confide in this man. She heard the defeat in her own tone. “I have few choices remaining, Ramsay. This one has been made for me and I must heed it.”
He offered his hand abruptly. “Then flee with me instead.”
Evangeline was tempted. But it was a folly she would inevitably regret, a choice that could only lead to heartbreak. Far better that she remembered Ramsay at his dangerous best, in this wondrous moment, and chose to be a dutiful daughter.
Though that might be a choice she grew to regret.
It pained her to turn away, though she knew it was wise. “The decision is made.”
“You should not wed him, my lady, even if you refuse me. He is not the man you believe him to be.”
“I know naught of him, so that cannot be true,” she protested, then glanced back. “What would you tell me of him?”
“He lies. He cheats. I fear he will not treat a lady with honor.”
“Those crimes are not so uncommon,” Evangeline said, reassured that he had naught worse to say.
There was a sound of breaking shrubbery, doubtless a hint that Ahearn drew nearer. Ramsay glanced over his shoulder, then offered Evangeline his hand again.
She shook her head and took a step back, wishing all the while. Why was itthisman who set her blood afire? Why was itthisman who prompted her to question all she knew to be true? If she had been a fanciful woman, Evangeline might have concluded that they were destined to be together, but she knew better. She had not seen him in five years. He was dangerous. To linger with him was forbidden. ’Twas no more than that.
And that allure would soon fade to naught.
She made the right choice.
Ramsay shrugged, as if the matter was one of indifference to him, a painful hint that she had named matters aright. “Then true to my trade, I must seize something else from this party.”
“You will take naught from me,” Evangeline said, knowing she sounded breathless.
“I will take that destrier,” he replied, as if this was not a theft of consequence.
“What madness is this?” Evangeline glared at him, her outrage restored by the very suggestion. “You willnotsteal my horse,” she protested. “Do you know the value of this steed? The merit of his breeding? The duration of his training? The investment…” She fell silent as Ramsay chuckled.
“And there is the lady I recall so very well.” He caught her hand in his and drew her closer. Her heart skipped as she considered what his intentions might be, but he was looking down with a frown, feeling her finger within her gloves.
Nay, he was feeling the bulk of Rufus Percival’s sapphire ring upon her finger, even through the leather.
“And I will have this ring,” he murmured, tugging off her glove with a smooth gesture. He caught his breath when the ring from Rufus was revealed in all its glory, and Evangeline could have sworn the sapphire twinkled apurpose to tempt his avarice.
Ramsay’s reaction was also a telling reminder of his trade. The sight of a gem distracted him utterly from any temptation she offered and was evidence of the unwelcome truth.
If she accepted his invitation, he would claim her then discard her. Ceding to him would be folly indeed.
Even if she wondered what it would be like.
She was keenly aware of how wicked it felt to have her bare hand claimed by Ramsay’s gloved one, of the smoothness of the worn leather against her skin. She made to pull it from his grasp, but too late.
“Aye, I will,” he added, his tone so silky and dangerous that it made her shiver. Ramsay deftly slid the ring from her hand and it vanished into the purse at his belt, her hand released as soon as her finger was bare. He presented her own glove to her with a flourish.
“You cannot take that ring,” she protested, even though he had already done as much. “It was a gift.”
“From your betrothed, I wager.” There was a harshness in his tone that she could not explain. What had changed?
