Page 31 of The Iron Earl
Lachlan motioned with his fingers for Evalyn to hand the dress to him. He wasn’t about to try and wedge it from her grasp again and risk tearing more of the fabric.
It took her a long moment before she slowly lifted it away from her body, offering it to him.
Gently, so as to not startle her, Lachlan took the gown and moved to the front side of the wagon. He unrumpled the silk fabric, stretching it out and draping it along the front boards—acutely aware the entire time of Evalyn’s disbelieving gaze pinning him.
The fabric was beyond dirty, probably beyond salvageable for ever being worn again. But he smoothed it out with as much care as he possibly could.
He worked along the edge of the skirt hanging off the end of the wagon, snapping the fabric tight to take out the deep-set wrinkles.
Rupe pointed at Evalyn with his spoon. “Ye need help with the buttons on yer back, lass?”
Lachlan dropped the skirt, moving back to Evalyn and stepping between her and Rupe. “I’ll take care of the damn buttons, Rupe.”
He grabbed Evalyn’s shoulders, spinning her and guiding her back to the entrance of his tent. He ushered her in and then stood behind her, his head cocked to the side so it didn’t hit the top of the tent. She had no problem with the tent height as the top of her head barely reached his mid-chest.
Standing with her bare back to him, she didn’t turn, choosing to stay still and silent until he stepped forward and his fingers started on the first buttons.
Working upward, his knuckles brushed the back of her bare skin. It was enough to drive a man to madness, buttoning up the dress instead of dragging it down her sleek body.
But she was foxed and he was in no mood to make her his mistress yet. That would need to wait until they got to Vinehill. Wait until she was no longer shooting arrows at him with her gold-green eyes.
“Thank you.”
“For?” Lachlan looked to the back of her head.
She lifted one hand from holding the front of her dress to her chest and twisted her long auburn hair around her hand. She pulled the mass of it forward over her shoulder so he would have clear access to the buttons moving up her spine. “For not destroying the dress.”
“I made an assumption about it that I was mistaken on.”
“What assumption?” Her head shifted slightly to the side and he could see her delicate profile, though she didn’t look at him.
“That you were too harebrained to know enough to put on a sturdy dress for the journey.”
“And you no longer think me harebrained?”
“I find that you are determined, not necessarily harebrained.”
“I fear I must take that as a compliment.”
Lachlan chuckled.
As he worked the buttons up her back, he realized that under the light of the lantern spots of her creamy skin were yellowed, some darker than the others. One that was almost black. Bruises that were in various states of healing.
“Evalyn—no one in camp has touched you since Colin slapped you? Have they?”
She glanced over her shoulder at him, her eyebrow lifted in curiosity. “No. Not a one. I thank you for that. I haven’t mistakenly insinuated so, have I?”
He shook his head. Her face shifted forward, her hands tightening along her chest where she held the dress to her breasts.
Three more buttons up and he paused, his forefinger flicking out to trace the mottled edge of a blackened bruise just below her shoulder blade. “Yet this is recent.” He looked up at the back of her neck and leaned forward, his voice low. “What exactly are you running from, Evalyn?”
She spun around, jumping away from him. “I shouldn’t take your time such as this.” She dodged to the right to move around him. “I’m sure Rupe will help with the rest of the buttons.”
He grabbed her upper arm, stopping her motion. “I will finish them.”
Panic instantly set into her eyes. Panic Lachlan recognized. She was trapped.
He released her arm, stepping behind her so she was the one closest to the entrance of the tent. “It is no trouble. Only a few more.” He started fastening the remaining buttons before she could escape him.