Page 26

The leather of the reins creaked under his fingers.

Evander loosened his grip on them. Then he did it again, because the moment he stopped thinking about it, his hands closed up like a trap.

The road ahead was empty. The road behind was two dead men and one living. He’d watched the living one ride out of sight without looking back once, which was either sense or terror. But he didn’t much care which.

His horse felt the tension through the bit and tossed its head. He let it. He could smell blood on his own sleeve.

“Ye’re wanted at home.”

Twelve years. Twelve years, and his father’s men still wore that same dull green.

It was a sight, really, and not a pleasant one. Some would have loved the reminder of the home they had left so long ago, but how could Evander feel anything remotely close to that when he had been banished by his own father for pushing back for his terrible behavior?

It was hard to believe that after so long, his father had reached out to him.

For twelve years, his father had been happy to pretend that he never had another son. After his banishment, Evander had put that life behind him.

His father wasn’t even worth his thoughts. All it would do was remind him of all the atrocities he had committed under his father’s name. And that was exactly what he wanted to leave behind.

“Are ye all right?”

He looked sideways. His wife was riding beside him, upright, pale, with a smear of blood drying on her cheekbone that she hadn’t found yet. Her voice was steady, but her hands were not.

Evander laughed. He couldn’t help it. It came out short, rough, and startled, and she frowned at him as if he’d sneezed.

“Are ye all right?” he asked.

“Aye.” She considered it. “He did grab me quite forcefully, but I had a plan.”

He waited. She didn’t elaborate.

He realized, with a sinking feeling that wasn’t entirely unpleasant, that she was going to make him ask.

“A plan, wife?”

“I was waiting for him to be distracted.” She lifted one shoulder. “And then I was going to kick him in the neck.”

Evander looked at her. At her skirts, bunched over the saddle. At her boots, soft leather made for walking on rushes. He had to resist the urge to chuckle.

He assumed she had been taught to fight based on how well she was able to throw a lantern at his head, but having a good arm and being able to land physical blows with your arms and legs were entirely a different story.

Of course, his wife seemed quite determined in what she was saying. Perhaps that was why he was finding it even harder than normal to resist the urge to smile.

A wild woman with wild eyes who kept making him smile. Callum would be shocked to learn such a thing, but he’d understand if Evander explained it well enough.

“In the neck.”

“Aye.”

“From horseback.”

“I have a very good reach.” Her mouth was set in a fierce little line, and he wanted very badly to kiss it.

He chuckled. It hurt a little, somewhere under the breastbone, the way a laugh did when it had been a long time since the last one.

“I’d have liked to see that.”

He would have. God help him, he would have. He would have paid good silver to watch this small, furious woman try to kick a grown man in the throat while sitting side-saddle in a wool gown.