“What’s the matter?” he immediately asked.
“N-nothing.”
“Eve, you’ve gone white as a ghost. What’s wrong?” He came forward and stopped inches from her, raising her chin, his eyes roving intently over her face.
“Nothing,” she repeated more firmly, ignoring the butterflies dancing inside her at his touch. “Nothing, except for the fact that you stormed in here up in the boughs about something or other and were extremely rude to a guest. To a friend of Anna’s, I might add,” she continued, getting into her stride.
“He was standing as close to you as I am now,” he interrupted. “And he was holding your hand. I think the fact that all of his limbs are still attached was polite enough.”
Well, what was she supposed to say to that? Her stomach fluttered alarmingly as a wave of longing swept over her, so strong it nearly took her off her feet.
“But, that doesn’t explain why you’re so pale. I know something’s wrong.”
Lord, but he was insistent.
Her arm was throbbing ever more painfully, and if she didn’t get out of here, she’d either cry, which she never liked to do in company, or throw herself at him and — and, well, do things she really shouldn’t do in company. Not that there was anyone around. And he had closed the door…
“Eve, speak to me.”
She felt suddenly exhausted, emotional, in pain, and confused by his words. Thrilled, but confused.
It was all too much for her to bear on an empty stomach and very little sleep.
“I-I need to go,” she mumbled and moved around him toward the door.
“Eve—“
“My lord, please. I must go.”
“Why are you so eager to get away from me? Why are you my lording me?” he continued, striding after her.
His demanding questions were fraying her nerves at an alarming rate, and she finally snapped.
“Fine,” she yelled, spinning back to face him. “Ashdon, then. Ash. Andrew. Whatever your damned name is, just leave me alone.”
Evelyn turned once again to leave when he reached out to her again.
“Stop, please,” she heard him say before he grabbed her arm, and the pain was so intense it caused her to cry out.
The room began to spin and tilt alarmingly, and Evelyn heard his voice as though he were suddenly very far away. She couldn’t make out exactly what he was saying, but there was a lot of swearing, from what she gathered.
And then, without much warning, everything went black.
Andrew caught Evelyn and swept her into his arms before she hit the floor.
His heart was hammering in his chest.
What was going on? Why had she fainted?
Fear was making it impossible to think straight.
Should he run to her family? Should he shake her?
He glanced round the room then hastened to a chaise by the window.
Lying her down carefully, he pushed her hair back from her brow, his hand shaking.
Really, he should run for Anna, but he was loath to leave Eve alone.
He was just starting to wonder if he should throw a pitcher of water over her, when her eyelids fluttered, and, gradually, after what seemed like an eternity, she opened her eyes and looked at him.
Her soft smile was just about the most beautiful damned thing he’d ever seen and Andrew felt as though he would never be able to breathe again with the sudden constriction in his chest.
“Wh-what happened, Andrew?” she asked, her voice trembling.
“What happened is that you gave me quite a fright, sweetheart,” he answered softly.
Before she had a chance to voice the questions he could see forming in her mind, he leaned down and crushed her mouth beneath his.
Talking could wait.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
If she had, in fact, died from her injury, Evelyn decided that it wouldn’t be so bad if this were heaven.
Andrew’s concern for her… then waking to find him gazing at her with such tenderness in his eyes, not to mention the toe-curling kiss she was currently enjoying…
It was almost enough to make her forget the pain in her arm.
Almost, but not quite.
And Evelyn didn’t believe for a moment that her arm would still hurt in heaven. Which meant that she hadn’t died, but merely fainted.
Which meant that she was allowing him to kiss her in the drawing room of her uncle’s house, where just about anyone could see them.
Pushing gently against him and resisting the urge to stroke the hard muscle of his chest, rather than do any actual pushing, Evelyn struggled to sit up.
He immediately responded to her unspoken demand and released her, helping to prop her up against some cushions before moving to once again kneel beside her, grasping her hand in his.
He really did have lovely hands. She’d never given much thought to hands before. Now, though, she was a huge fan of them.
“Can I get you anything?” he asked, all concern and politeness as though he hadn’t just been reducing her to a puddle mere seconds ago.
“N-no, thank you. I am quite all right.” She could feel her cheeks burning but could do nothing about it.
“You had me so worried,” he was saying, his thumb gently stroking the inside of her wrist.
Her arm was throbbing worse than before, and Evelyn tried not to panic as she felt a warm wetness seep through the cotton of her gown.
Oh Lord, if the hastily made bandages had moved, it would not take long for the sleeve of her gown to be ruined with blood, and he would know exactly who she was.
He was a clever man, he would have it figured out in seconds.
Evelyn’s mind was racing. She daren’t look at the source of her pain and discomfort lest she draw his attention to it.
She needed to get back to her bedchamber fast. But first, she needed to rid herself of her handsome but presently inconvenient companion.
“When you fainted, I didn’t know what to do. I was beside myself.” His self-conscious smile melted her heart even more than ever, and she would have loved to just pour out the whole sorry tale to him so that he would know she wasn’t a wilting little ninny who fainted every five minutes.
No, she was something much more impressive; a woman’d who pretended to be a highway robber, had lied to him about almost everything in her life, who was looking for a chance to exact revenge on the uncle she’d grown up with because he’d had her father killed. Oh, and she’d fainted because she’d been shot. By her cousin. Who also happened to be his best friend.
Somehow, she didn’t think he’d be overly pleased by her tale, and, really, it was probably better to have him think she was a wilting little ninny than the walking disaster she had come to be.
“Oh, it was nothing. Really. I’m just tired. I’m afraid I didn’t sleep well.”
“Why?”
She wasn’t going to get into another conversation with him where he shot interrogational questions at her and tied herself in knots, scrambling for answers.
“My lord—“ He raised his brows, and she quickly amended what she’d been about to say. “—Ashdon. Would you be so kind as to fetch me some tea? I would call for a maid, but I don’t think anyone should know we were in here alone, with the door shut.”
“Yes, yes, of course.”
He fairly leapt to his feet, obviously eager to have something useful to do.
“And should I fetch Anna, too?” he asked, moving to the door.
“No!” she screeched. She didn’t want anyone else coming in here. She was trying to get out of here! “No, I —ah — I do not wish to worry her, and, really, I do not need anyone else if I have you helping me.”
He looked so pleased at her words that Evelyn felt a pang of guilt that she’d only said them to keep him from bringing anyone back to the room.
And yet, they were true. She couldn’t think of anyone else she’d rather have with her in a crisis. And considering the mess she was in and the fact t
hat she hadn’t known him that long, that was a sobering thought indeed.
Miraculously, there were no more hold ups and without another word, Andrew strode through the door and closed it softly behind him.
As soon as he was gone, Evelyn groaned aloud. Having pressed her wound against the cushion of the chaise to stop him from seeing it, the searing throb when she sat up was excruciating.
How soldiers got shot and still went on to continue fighting was beyond her.
Glancing at the cushion, Evelyn was horrified to see a bright red stain ruining the cream silk.
Blast.
That would take some explaining.
The sooner she got to her rooms, the better. She stood and made her way to the door, all the while examining the ever-spreading evidence of the shot on her arm.
So engrossed was she, that she did not hear the door open.
“Eve, I wondered if something stronger than tea wou—“
Evelyn whipped her head up in horror as Andrew’s words trailed to a stop, his eyes focusing on her clearly injured arm.
Evelyn froze and waited for him to say something. He didn’t speak a word. But, when he finally shifted his fierce green gaze to hers, it was clear he knew.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“I can explain.” Evelyn broke the fraught silence.
He merely raised that brow of his that did his talking for him.
“But not here. And not now.”
Still he didn’t speak.
Still he didn’t move.
“I… I need to change the dressing,” she continued softly.
Nothing.
Perhaps he was in shock. Hadn’t she read somewhere that people could freeze like that when in shock?
“Right,” she said when he still hadn’t blinked, just glared rather fiercely, “I’ll, um… I’ll just be off then. To — to see to—“ She waved toward her injured arm, but when he remained unmoved, she decided to give up and just go about her business.
Stepping round him, she slipped quietly from the room and dashed up the stairs to her bedroom.
How could this have occurred? How?
What would happen now? Would he tell her family? How could she possibly explain any of this without revealing what she knew? And how could she reveal it without any proof of her claim?
Her head was starting to throb now as badly as her arm, and Evelyn knew she needed to get a hold of herself and see to the wound before she lost consciousness once again.
Making her way to the closet in her room where she had stored the linens and brandy the night before, she yelped in fright at the sudden sound of the bedroom door slamming open.
Turning she saw Andrew standing in the doorway, looking darkly furious and more than a little intimidating.
“Wh-what are you doing?” she asked weakly. She would have liked to bellow at him, but she was feeling steadily more shaky and nauseous. “You can’t be here.”
“And yet here I am,” he answered softly.
Well, at least he was talking. That was progress.
“But you can’t be,” she insisted. “If anyone sees or — or walks in, I shall be ruined.”
Without another word, he stepped into the room then turned and closed the door. Evelyn heard the click of the lock as if it were as loud as the bells of Westminster.
“What are you doing?” she repeated, aghast at his behaviour.
Andrew closed his eyes, tilting his face to the ceiling and muttering something under his breath. Evelyn couldn’t hear what he said, but then, it probably wasn’t anything she wanted to hear in any case.
When he opened his eyes, the impact of his green stare made her toes curl.
Even now? She questioned herself.
It was ridiculous. And besides, far from looking seductive, he looked beside himself with rage.
“I’m going to look at that,” he said quietly, pointing to her arm, “and then we are going to sit down and have a very long, very serious talk. Do you understand?”
Her temper flared at his highhanded manner. She wasn’t a child, for goodness sake.
“Of course I understand. I’m not a dimwit,” she snapped. “And you have no right to speak to me as though I were. Furthermore,” she continued, getting into her stride now, “you have less right to march in here, into my bedchamber and order me about the place. I’m not yours to order.”
She’d been stomping toward him as she spoke and now stood toe to toe with him.
Her neck almost cricked, so far did she have to look up at him. But she didn’t care. He shouldn’t be allowed to be so tall in any case. It was distracting and unfair in battle.
“Are you quite finished?” he asked, peering down at her like a judge would a lowly criminal.
“No, I am not finished!” she practically screeched, the pain in her arm all but forgotten. “How dare you act in such a way? Have you no concern for my reputation or yours? What do you propose to do should anyone see you leaving my room, hmm?”
She reached out a finger and jabbed him in the chest.
“Just get out of here.”
“You owe me an explanation,” he said calmly, seeming entirely unmoved by the jab of her finger, even though it had hurt to do it. Was the man made of solid rock, for heaven’s sake?
He did speak the truth, however.
She owed him an explanation and fast.
And the sooner she explained, the sooner she could begin to beg him to keep her secret, though it was doubtful that he would.
But she had to try. The fate of the reset of her life now lay in his hands. And he was so furious with her right now, she felt that life might be short-lived.
Taking a calming breath, Evelyn spoke again, this time making sure that she kept her tone even and relaxed.
“I do owe you an explanation. I know it. And you shall have it. But, please. I cannot talk about it here.”
She gave him her most beseeching look, silently praying that he would not go immediately to her family and tell them all.
After what seemed like an age of him staring at her disapprovingly, he finally released a sigh and moved to brush his fingers softly along her cheek.
“How am I supposed to do anything but agree when you look at me like that?” he asked ruefully.
Evelyn wasn’t sure how to respond, so she stayed quiet and gave him a timid smile instead.
“Let’s get you cleaned up, then we’ll go for a ride, and you can tell me what the hell is going on here.”
He still seemed as though he were holding on to his temper by a thread, so Evelyn decided not to point out that the sky was grey and dark, and it would very probably rain soon.
She’d extracted a promise from him to keep her secret, and that was enough to make her agree to anything.
“Fine,” she agreed. “I will tell you everything. I do not know how to thank you for keeping my secret, Andrew,” she continued, not noticing that she’d once again slipped into calling him by his Christian name.
“I do,” he said, and suddenly his face lit with a wolfish grin.
Evelyn frowned at the sudden change.
“Take off your gown.”
Just as he’d expected, his command brought an immediate stain of pink to her cheeks.
Why did she have to be so damned alluring? If he’d been less attracted to her, he would find it infinitely easier to go straight to Jonathan and let him deal with whatever was going on.
But she’d asked him the way she had, and she looked the way she did, and he felt the way he did and, well… he’d never stood a chance.
Besides which, he was so worried about her and her damned arm that he would do whatever it took to help her.
Andrew couldn’t quite believe what he now knew, that the two women he’d been so torn between were, in fact, one woman. A woman who was, for some reason, play acting as a highway robber, who had robbed her own uncle, no less. Or, at least, had tried to.
He was starting to get a bloody headache, and the brandy she�
�d been clutching when he’d come in was starting to look extremely tempting.
He needed to forget all the questions and the ramifications of this new information, look at her wound, and ensure she was well, and then he needed a stiff drink. Or several. Usually his quick mind could pick over details and sort them without his having to even think overly long on things. But, as with everything else, she changed things.
“Wh-what?” she asked, sounding breathless, and his body stirred in response.
Not the time, Andrew.
“I said,” he repeated slowly, still furious with her but enjoying himself a little now that he’d decided to not think of anything beyond her just yet, “take off your gown.” He couldn’t hide his grin as her eyes grew round as saucers.
He’d no idea how she’d managed to fool him, she was terrible at keeping her emotions off her face.
“My lord.”
Ah, he was back to my lord. Shame. He’d enjoyed hearing his name on her lips. Probably more than he should.
“My lord?”
Andrew forced himself to concentrate on what she saying and not what else she could do with those lips.
“Yes, Eve?”
“I. You. We — did you just tell me to take off my gown?”
Andrew’s grin widened before he fixed his face to impassivity.
“Yes, I did,” he answered gravely.
“But, but—“
Suddenly, her cheeks paled, and he saw with some alarm that she was swaying slightly.
Muttering an oath, he swept her into his arms and strode to the bed, placed her gently on the edge, and knelt to take the brandy and linens from her lifeless fingers.
He could kick himself for playing with her when she was still in pain. Perhaps the injury was more serious that he had assumed? Perhaps Jon had misjudged the shot.
He was suddenly terrified.
Looking up, he noticed the pallor of her skin. It made her eyes seem bigger and darker. His heart hammering, he moved the bandages and bottle to the table by her bed and clasped her hands in his.
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