Page 59 of The Iron Earl

“Oh.” Her eyebrows drew together. “I did not know one could divorce so easily and I do not think—”

“I don’t care what ye think, child. This not be England, lass. A divorce is easy enough to come by in Scotland with some extra grease and then ye can work in the kitchens as planned.”

“But—”

“But nothing.” He flipped his boney hand into the air. “Go. I am done with ye.”

Her open mouth clamped shut. With a quick curtsey, she moved out of the room.

Closing the creaking door behind her with shaking hands, she looked both directions in the corridor. To her left, the corridor quickly ended at a perpendicular hallway. To her right, the corridor curved, disappearing. Dank and cold in both directions.

She could swear she came from the right. She hoped.

Her footsteps light on the ancient stones, she walked to her right, slowing as the hallway curved.

“Ye don’t want to be going that direction, m’lady.”

Evalyn jumped, spinning around. Juggling a stack of fabric, the maid stood in the hallway staring at her. “I don’t?”

“No. That way will lead ye to the stairs to the undercrofts. Unless ye want to visit the old dungeon?”

Evalyn shook her head.

“Come. I’ll take ye back then.” Her head motioned backward. “It’s this way, m’lady.”

“Oh, thank you, I could not find my way back without help—Maggie is it?”

“Aye.”

“Can I help carry your load?”

“Aye. I was going up to the bedding chambers with these.” She lifted the pile of fabric—sheets—in her arms and Evalyn took the top half. She looked to the door of the library. “The marquess be done with ye?”

“He is.” Evalyn glanced back over her shoulder as they walked away. “For now, he is.”

~~~

The bastard was going to go free.

His feet brutal against the stone floors, Lachlan stormed through the castle, not pausing once as the servants he passed tried to gain his attention.

His grandfather wanted to see him. He knew that.

But talking to his grandfather was the last thing he could do in the moment.

He was liable to choke the old buzzard to death, he was so consumed with fury.

The bastard was going to gofree.

The trial wasn’t over yet, there was still a chance, but from what he’d witnessed today in court, that bastard from London that killed his brother was going to be set free.

Not hanged. Not shot. Not beheaded.

He never should have let Domnall talk him out of killing the bastard when the monster was captured after the fire.

Lachlan stomped up the south circular staircase, his boots on every step a heavy blow echoing into the bowels of the castle. The two-hour ride back to the castle had done nothing to calm the rage pulsating in every fiber of his being. No. If anything, every step his horse had taken had only heightened the wrath swallowing him whole.

The only thing that could break through the fury ravaging his body was the sole thought of sinking himself into Evalyn. Of losing himself in her.