Chapter Twenty-Three
Evelyn stared at Scarlet, the hinges of her jaw numbing to the point that her mouth fell open. She blinked rapidly. “What are you talking about?” she asked.
Scarlet waved her hand, indicating Evelyn and then her own seat where Grey had sat. “The whole debate on the way back. The apparent earlier discussions about women’s intelligence, which I know to be your favorite topic. The fact that you both were so worried about each other that you made risky decisions.”
“Scar,” Evelyn said, reaching across. “I should have made you stay behind. I’m sorry. What Grey said about Burdock carrying us away—”
“Carrying you away, Evie. Yes, on the outside, he was concerned for any female who might come under attack, but his…” She puffed out her chest and curled her thin biceps, her hands in fists. “His I’m-going-to-kill-everyone-who-tries-to-harm-you…” she said, her voice low as if imitating Grey. She dropped her hands to her knees and leaned forward into Evelyn’s face. “All that. He cares about you.” Her eyes opened wide. “And you care about him.”
Evelyn shook her head, though her stomach flipped inside. Could her heart have followed Grey past the bounds of physical want? “No,” she whispered. “’Tis just…physical.”
“He’s bedded you?” Scarlet whispered.
Evelyn glanced toward the window. “Or I’ve bedded him. I’m not sure which.”
“Did he force you?” she asked, the ferocity in her voice pulling Evelyn’s gaze back to her. Fury tightened Scarlet’s face, and then Evelyn’s words seemed to melt into her. “You bedded him?”
Evelyn gave a small nod.
“Good God,” Scarlet said, thumping back in the seat. Evelyn watched her shocked expression soften. “Was it glorious?” Scarlet asked.
Evelyn couldn’t hide the pleased smile growing on her lips. “Absolutely.”
Scarlet inhaled slowly, her shock turning to a frown. “I think ‘absolutely glorious’ might mean love.”
Love? Could Grey actually love a Sassenach? Was this twisty feeling inside her more than simple lust?
“And that is…complicated,” Scarlet continued.
Evelyn blinked. “Yes, I suppose it would be. But any feeling that may have grown between us could dissolve if he…” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “If he thinks that I, in any way, encouraged Cross to burn Finlarig.”
Scarlet reached out to squeeze her arm. “He must know that you would never intentionally do anyone harm.”
“But why didn’t I ask about the inhabitants?” Evelyn shook her head.
“Evie, we were both caught up in trying to run as fast as we could, to put England behind us.” Scarlet held up her hand as Evelyn opened her mouth to ask more questions about their need to flee.
Evelyn sighed and looked out the window. “I need to tell him that.”
Scarlet squeezed her hand. “And Evie, he could be seducing you. To try to win Finlarig back. Men lie as easily as they breathe.”
Evelyn’s inhale faltered. “But you said it sounded like he cares for me.”
Scarlet nodded, her lips thinning as she held them tight. “One can never know for certain.” A shadow passed over Scarlet’s face. “Is it love or is it lies?” Scarlet shook her arm slightly. “You must tell Nathaniel. He will break the betrothal.”
“Good God,” Evelyn whispered, remembering the banns. “I haven’t even told Grey about Philip.”
Knock. Knock. James poked his head in the window. “You two planning to sit in there all day?”
For a moment, neither of them answered. “We are coming out,” Scarlet called. “We need to see if Isabel and Cat are recovered.”
James opened the door, and Evelyn climbed down. She held tight to James and the carriage as numbness made her wobble.
“There now,” James said when she felt her two feet safely on the ground, and he turned to help Scarlet. Evelyn breathed deeply to dispel the muddling in her brain, and the two of them hurried up the steps to the great hall.
Her heart pounded hard when she saw Grey across the room talking to Alana. “I knew what I was doing,” he said, frowning at his sister. “And we are all back safe.”
Alana poked him in the chest. “Do not scare me again. We need ye here.”
“Where are Cat and Izzy?” Scarlet asked.
Evelyn looked around, but they weren’t in the hall. “Is the child harmed?”
“Nay,” Alana said. “Izzy actually seems rather proud of herself. She used her long hairpin to work at loosening the knots.”
“I told Cat that she must stay at Finlarig for the time being,” Grey said. “They went to find her a room beside Izzy’s.” He gave a slight nod and took a step back, his gaze on Evelyn. “I need to change my shirt,” he said, and she realized that the mud stains across his chest were in the shape of small footprints, no doubt from Isabel when he helped her seat his horse. He traipsed toward the steps.
“Fiona and Martha have been up in the library going over the letter book,” Alana said. “I told them that when you returned we might have tea and tarts if Molly has scrounged up some more after they were left out for rats to roll around in.”
Behind her, Scarlet choked slightly and coughed. She cleared her throat. “And Evelyn needs to change her skirt.” She pointed and shook her head. “Bilberry juice. Go on,” Scarlet said, and shooed Evelyn. “I’ll check on Fiona and Martha and stop by Izzy’s room while you change.”
“Thank you,” Evelyn said and walked toward the steps. The whole conversation in the carriage was still shooting through her mind, ruining her normally good sense. Love? What did she know about the fabled emotion? Could Grey be seducing her heart without forfeiting his own? How could one tell? And would all of it change when she revealed her secrets?
She swallowed, forcing her legs to climb, her hand pressing against her chest. The way he’d watched her in the carriage… Heavens, he made her ache. How could a gaze make her skin tingle like a physical caress? Even now, the memory of his voice, rough with worried anger, plucked at her body.
She climbed the stone steps, finally alighting on the fourth floor. She walked down and stopped before his closed door. Evelyn smoothed her hands down the front of her bodice, over her peaked breasts. Blast. Maybe it was the danger that had brought about this heat. Backing up, she opened her own door and froze, for the connecting door to Grey’s room was wide open.
Grey stood on his side, naked from the waist up, his thick arms braced above the doorframe. His hair draped forward to graze his solid jaw, lightly bristled by a day’s growth. He looked upward from lowered eyes, his gaze connecting with hers, yet he remained silent. Evelyn quickly closed and barred the door to the corridor and leaned her back against it. They stared at each other.
Love or lust? The words played through her mind, but at that very moment, seeing him there with such desire in his stance, she didn’t care. Once more. Evelyn dropped her shawl and walked directly to him, her ache to touch him unbearable. He drew her in, his lips finding hers in nothing short of a ravishment. Heat, frantic and fierce, roared up in her. She rubbed her palms along the muscles of his chest. Across and down, her fingers licked small caresses against the skin of his hips where his kilt hung low, exposing the indents on either side that led to the rigid member she felt.
Grey’s fingers stroked the curls around her face, his hands cupping the back of her head. Together, they slanted their faces, wild kisses with open, panting mouths. Grey grabbed the sides of her face, speaking against her lips. “Dammit, Evelyn,” he whispered, breaking the kiss, yet keeping their foreheads touching. “The bastard could have killed ye.”
Her hands came up to hold the sides of his head, too. “He had no reason.”
“He or Burdock could have attacked ye, raped ye, with no one there to jump to your defense. If I hadn’t seen your carriage roll away—”
She pulled back. “It all went well,” she said, searching his gaze, his face, feeling his jaw harden under her touch. Gray eyes, under drawn brows, peered into her own. His lips shut, and he inhaled through his nose as if he were trying to rein in anger. At her? At Cross and Burdock? Or could it be anger at the helpless feeling that came with imagining the worst and knowing that it could have occurred? Was this the look of love or a well-concocted farce?
“You’re angry?” she asked.
He pulled back, dropping his hands. “Bloody ballocks, aye,” he said, his voice rising. He ran a hand down his face, turned to pace to the door between their rooms and then turned back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Ye don’t know what went through my mind. Burdock ripping open your clothing. Him striking ye, taking ye.” He shook his head, torture in the tightness of his face.
She squeezed her hands together. Her heart pattered as if the muscles that had squeezed it so tightly with her worry had relaxed, letting it run wild, and she inhaled fully. Her stomach quivered with hope. Maybe if she made him realize how he felt about her first…
A slight smile turned up the corners of her mouth. “You were worried like I had been, imagining you being shot as you rode into their encampment,” she murmured.
“Aye,” he said and frowned, stepping into his room. He pointed at her smile. “Ye are pleased?” Although it was a question, it was also an accusation.
“Aye,” she said, repeating his answer. She walked closer so that they stood across from each other at the threshold. Could he see the slight tremble in her arms? What if she was wrong about his reaction? But it was so raw, so real.
“Ye are pleased about this?” he said, spreading his arms wide, which made the muscles of his chest tighten. “Izzy being taken, and everyone at risk getting her back.”
“No,” Evelyn said, shaking her head, letting her grin fade to seriousness.
He squinted, his frown changing to show confusion. “What then about today has made ye smile?”
Evelyn placed her hand on the open door between their rooms. “Finding out that…you are falling in love with me.” His mouth opened slowly as if confusion changed to surprise, and Evelyn slowly closed the door.
…
Grey stared at the wood grain in the door until he heard Evelyn leave her room. Falling in love with her? “Bloody hell,” he said to the door and turned to find a shirt free of Izzy’s muddy footprints.
Love? He was falling in love with Evelyn? “Bloody hell,” he repeated, his voice rising. Was she serious? Or had she just thrown the accusation out to confuse him?
Admittedly, they couldn’t keep their hands off each other nor their clothes on when alone. But she’d stolen his castle, for fok’s sake. And she was bloody English! Love? Aiden would slice him in two, and Gram would poison his ale.
Grey paced before the cold hearth. Love? It was a dangerous emotion, which led intelligent people to do stupid things. His mother had loved his father and had apparently followed him to her death. Nay. Love was for fools, not Highland chiefs, even ones without control of their castles.
Grey tied his shirt at the neck. He needed to talk to the lass. Maybe he should give her a dram of whisky first. Would Evelyn take it badly if he said that she was so incredibly wrong? He tucked in his tunic and strode out into the corridor. She would be teaching in the library. Blast. The library now made his blood run hot every time he walked in through the door. Evelyn boils my blood. His mouth twisted with a hard frown. Maybe she was a witch. That would be a bloody good reason for not being able to get her out of his head, except that he didn’t believe in witches and spells. Ballocks.
Steeling himself against the vision of her spread naked across the chair near the hearth, Grey knocked on the frame of the open door. The room was full of females. Alana, the two new students, Scarlet, and Izzy with her sister. They all stood around Evelyn, who held a folded letter before her, reading. He cleared his throat. “Evelyn. We have something to discuss.”
Slowly her gaze lifted from the paper. She leaned forward to squeeze Izzy’s hand. “We certainly do,” she said and turned her gaze to his, her face open with happiness. Och. He didn’t want to wash it all away.
But before he could say anything else, she raised the paper in her hand, flapping it like a flag. “We need to discuss how Isabel just saved Finlarig for you.”