Thankfully, Audrey came to the rescue from Brielle’s wild imaginings. “So, Evan ... Should we call you Evan? Have you a surname we should use?”
Brielle’s gaze dared to creep to his face again, in time to see him shake his head as he swallowed down his bite. The Adam’s apple at his throat bobbed, a manly action she’d never appreciated in the males around her before. At least not the way the simple motion drew her fascination now.
“Evan MacManus. But call me Evan.” His teeth sank into the pastry again, and she couldn’t blame him for preferring the treat over conversation.
Nor could she allow herself to ogle him again.
“So, Evan, have you a favorite food?” Audrey took up her former questioning. “I could maketourtièreor aragoûtfor the midday meal. Or tell me if you prefer something heartier.”
His eyes had closed in apparent appreciation for the bitehe ate, but he opened the lids partway. “Miss Audrey, you could make corn gruel and I think it would taste like heaven. Whatever you cook will be much appreciated, I promise.”
Audrey’s face dipped with a sheepish look, but her widening smile was impossible to miss. What woman wouldn’t melt under such appreciation from a man this handsome?
Still, the time had come to remind her friend he’d not proven trustworthy yet.
She cleared her throat and gave Audrey a pointed look. “Jeanette will bring you caribou meat to use in feeding ourprisoner.” Hopefully she’d pick up on that last word.
“Good.” Her eyes brightened. “I’ll prepare tourtière, then.” She turned to Evan. “I’ll make sure to include the parts of the meat that are best for healing.” She glanced back at Brielle. “Marcellus came by this morning. He wanted to come with me to deliver the food.” Her friend’s gaze took on a sweet sadness. “I told him I would ask you.”
Brielle sighed. Marcellus took too much interest in this man. How many times would she have to tell him before he ceased pressing her? She switched to Italian. “Tell him he may not come near this room, not even to the corridor tunnel until I personally give him leave. It’s very important for his safety.”
Audrey’s smile was sad as she nodded. “I’ll tell him.”
The light atmosphere in the room evaporated after that, and not even Audrey’s sweet spirit raised the shroud of worry weighing Brielle’s shoulders.
When her friend left them, Brielle turned to the prisoner and leveled a piercing gaze on him. “I won’t tie your hands again now, but if you even think of moving off that fur without your guard’s approval, you’ll be bound hand and foot.”
His brows rose, but he nodded, his gaze respectful—mostly. “I’ll stay on the fur.”
That was the best she could ask for now, though time would tell how well his word could be trusted.
She moved to her place by the wall and lowered to sit, then pulled out her knife and one of the sticks she’d brought to whittle arrows. She always needed more, so this would be a good task to keep her hands busy during the long hours she stayed in here. Too bad the man twiddling his thumbs across from her couldn’t be put to work, also. But she couldn’t allow him a blade, nor could she trust that he wouldn’t sabotage whatever she set him to. Her Bible might have been better to pass the hours, but she’d not thought to grab it.Sorry, Lord.
“So, French, English, and Italian? Any other languages I haven’t heard?” Evan’s voice made her tense as she jerked her gaze up to him.
Or maybe it was his words that startled her. He recognized all three languages. Did that mean he spoke them also? She probably shouldn’t have assumed him ignorant.
“I know enough of the Dinee tongue to trade with them. But that’s all. And what of you? Which languages do you speak?”
“Only English fluently. I can pick out a few words of French, Italian, and Spanish. Enough to know which language they are anyway.” His tone sounded truthful, but he could easily be feigning.
From now on, she’d have to leave this room if she had something private to say to one of the others. No matter what, she couldn’t underestimate Evan MacManus.
7
Lying around like this should make Evan feel better, not worse. He flinched as another knife of pain plunged through his gut. His insides gurgled loudly enough for the guard across the room to hear.
Gerald, a man he’d not yet seen over the past two days, scowled at Evan. “Food will be here soon.” This fellow didn’t seem as amiable as the other guards. “Not that we should be wasting a meal on a good-for-nothing like you. Don’t know why the council didn’t put you out of your misery first thing. They’ll see your real colors soon enough, though.”
Evan clamped hard on his jaw, but the guard’s words were merely buzzing gnats compared to the chaos within him. His insides wielded bayonets and clubs, plunging and hacking until he could think of nothing except the agony. He rolled onto his side, curling his legs to ease the pressure within. Had they fed him something tainted? This guard might have led the effort.
Maybe they were poisoning him to make him tell his secrets. Surely she wasn’t lacing her delectables with arsenic. Audrey’s food tasted better than anything he’d eaten since Sophia hademployed a cook. He played through the symptoms he’d learned during his training to be a spy. Stomach pain, muscle cramping, vomiting. He had the first two, but not the latter.
Yet.
Should he refuse to eat? The way he felt, his body would refuse the meal for him.
Another pain plunged in, and this time the bile rose up into his throat. His stomach convulsed. He was going to lose his insides. There was no way to hold it back this time.
