Page 68 of The Iron Earl

Her fingers slipping on the brass knob, it took far too long—seconds she didn’t have—to open the door.

She staggered out into the daylight, slamming the door behind her, and then wobbled her way to the rear of the building, her gloved hand scraping along the rough red stone of the exterior.

Barely around the back corner of the building and she doubled over, vomiting and only narrowly missing the skirt of the mauve dress Janice had procured for her.

Her stomach twisted and she retched again and again, gasping for air in between heaves, trying to send breath into her lungs.

Tears burning her eyes, the clenching in her gut eased and her look lifted, frantic, not even sure where she had stumbled to. She needed to hide. Hide until Mr. Molson was gone. Hide until there was no way he could find her. For if he did…

Her belly coiled, sending a tremor of bile up her throat. Her eyes closed tight against the retch threatening to take her over again and she had to clutch the side of the building so the dizziness setting into her skull didn’t send her to the ground.

No. She had to stop. She had to hide. Hide before he found her. How long would he be in there?

She forced her eyelids open and searched around her. Stables sat behind the building. But what if his horse was in the stables? She could go down the main road winding through the village and find a shop to hide in, but most of the townsfolk were inside at the trial. Jacob had been beloved by the people in these lands, so many of them were itching for justice.

The stables. It was her best chance. If she could find a horse and a saddle she could make it away from the town. Make it away from Mr. Molson. He couldn’t know where she was. Couldn’t find her.

A horse. That was what she needed to do. It didn’t matter whose it was. Now. Now before he was done testifying. Before he could find her.

Evalyn pushed off from the brick of the building and made it two steps before the dizziness spun her world and she stumbled to the side.

Hands caught her from behind before she fell and she shrieked, sinking to her knees before she could scramble away.

“Evalyn—stop.”

She craned her neck to look behind her as she gained her feet, her boots slipping through the dirt.

Lachlan.

He reached out and gripped her forearm, steadying her on her feet. “Why did you run out of there? You forgot your pelisse.” His fingers left her arm and he draped her cape across her shoulders.

She’d forgotten how cold it was outside. Forgotten everything of what was happening around her—the need to escape had so harshly taken a hold of her.

Lachlan rounded her, both of his hands clamping onto her shoulders as he studied her face. “What are you doing out here? You look like you saw the devil himself—you still look it.” He glanced back at the building, his look dipping to the vomit on the ground. Worry settled into his hazel eyes before he looked back to her.

She lifted the back of her hand to her mouth, her kidskin glove dragging across her lips. “You didn’t need to leave the trial—I know how important it is to you.”

His eyes narrowed at her. “You were running, Eva. Escaping. I’ve seen this look on your face before. Tell me.”

As much as she tried to keep her eyes on his face, her look slipped to the red brick of the courthouse.

Hell. She couldn’t tell him. He was ready to kill someone as it was. She couldn’t give him a target.

His gaze followed her look, then snapped back to her. “Evalyn. You need to tell me right now what is happening.”

“I will tell you back at the castle.”

“You’ll tell me now.” His fingers dug into her shoulders.

“No.”

“Eva—”

“What happened in there?” She lifted her hand, pointing at the building. “What did that man testifying say?”

Lachlan exhaled a seething breath, his head shaking. The worry in his eyes was instantly replaced with rage. “He said that Lipinstein isn’t one of his men. That he had nothing to do with the fire. That he was now short three men because my brother and I killed them.”

She gasped, her hand going to her throat. The callousness. Of course, that was exactly the person Mr. Molson was. “The blackguard.”