Eve almost tripped and pulled back, holding her marred hand to her chest, cradling it.
“Understandable.”
“It is a disability. It prevents her from doing her duties. She can’t embroider.”
Eve felt her heart hammering in her chest. She felt despair settle around her. She knew her limitations, but to hear them spoken aloud on the lips of her betrothed made them seem… made her seem… incomplete.
“She can’t write.”
“Perhaps that is for the best,” the other man said.
“Every noble woman should be able to keep tallies of the crops,” Michael objected. “She can’t ride a horse.”
Eve pressed her good hand to her mouth as tears began to gather in her eyes.
“She can barely feed herself at table. How can I sit beside her when she can’t even lift a trencher to her lips? It is repulsive.Sheis repulsive.”
A sob tore from her throat. She turned away from the room to run straight into a wall of solid flesh.
Gabriel had stood beside her, hearing the callous words, as he approached. His brother was a cad. But when Eve lifted her tear ringed eyes to him, Gabriel felt his stomach drop. All he wanted to do was go into the room and bash his brother in the face.
Instead, he hooked an arm around her shoulders and guided her away, down the hall, away from the Great Hall, away from the room with his brother.
He felt a hitch in her breathing as they walked and squeezed her tight. “Do not waste your tears on such hateful words,” he whispered. “You are far from repulsive.”
“He’s right,” she whispered, her voice thick with agony. “I’m useless to him. What kind of wife will I make?”
Gabriel steered her into a darkened room he believed was used as a judgement room. It would be empty now. He opened the door and guided her inside. The large room was dark. He left the door open slightly so he could see her in the light from the flickering torchlight in the sconces in the hallway. “You will make a better wife than he deserves.”
She shook her head, bowing her head to her chest. “I will embarrass him. I will –”
“No, Eve. You are far from an embarrassment. You –”
Her small body shook with a tremor of tears. “I don’t want to marry him,” she whispered.
The words echoed through the room and even though they did, Gabriel wasn’t certain he had heard her correctly. He stood, unsure. He should confront Michael about the way he treated her. He should take her far away from this place. But he wasn’t certain that was what she wanted. He wasn’t certain it was just a moment of weakness.
She wiped at her eyes and sniffled. “I’m sorry.” She lifted her gaze to him. “I didn’t mean that.”
Gabriel’s heart broke at her misery, at the tears that streaked her cheeks, her clumped lashes. And he knew with certainty that if she married Michael her life of misery would have only just begin.
“I’m certain that when I get to know him… when we are man and wife –”
But there was no excusing what Michael had said. No true man spoke that way about his wife-to-be. Definitely not to others. Gabriel lifted his chin. “Eve.” He took her hand into his. She tried to pull away, but he held it firmly, allowing the sleeve to cover it so she felt better. “This is not what will make you a good wife.”
Eve stared at him with tender eyes, eyes that sparkled gratitude in the torchlight from the hallway.
“Would you like to ride a horse?”
She straightened in fear. “I can’t.”
“Can’t? Have you tried?”
“Once when I was young. I was thrown because I couldn’t control him.” She looked down at her hand. “I couldn’t hold the reins correctly.”
Gabriel shook his head. “There are other ways to control a horse. Were you sitting side saddle?”
“Of course.”
