Page 70 of The Iron Earl

They started walking, leaves crunching under their feet as they moved onto the trail that branched into the woods from the main drive.

“It is odd that I left the bed or odd that you didn’t hear me leave?” he asked.

She glanced up at him, her gold-green eyes intent on him for a long moment. Curious, even. “That I didn’t hear you. I hear everything and don’t usually sleep well. I wake up at the slightest creak.”

He patted her hand on his arm. “Then I admirably performed my husbandly duties and sufficiently wore you out.”

“Admirable, was it?” She chuckled. “Does that mean I failed my wifely duties since you didn’t fall into a dead man’s sleep?”

His look ran down her torso and back up again, his eyes hungry. “You performed splendidly. But you also possess a unique ability to compel me to want more—more of you, more of your body. That is what keeps me awake.”

“Why didn’t you rouse me?” A wicked smile lifted her right cheek. “And why in the heavens did you have us let out here for a walk back to the castle?”

Lachlan inclined his head. “For that exact reason. I didn’t want to be driven to distraction. Not when I have answers to extract from you.”

The mirth disappeared from her face. Easiness he instantly regretted scourging from her eyes.

There was nothing for it now. His look pinned her. “Why did you run from the courtroom?”

Her eyes scurried away from him, concentrating on the low, barren branches passing by above her head. “We cannot just leave this day behind us? Leave the trial to be buried as a distant memory?”

“We can if I know what sent you running—sent you trying to escape.”

“I wasn’t trying to escape you.”

“I didn’t say you were trying to escape me, Eva. But you were trying to escape something and I want to know what it is.”

Her feet slowed, her look venturing to him. “That man I told you about—the one my stepfather sold me off to?”

His feet stopped and he turned to her. “You mean the bastard that threatened to make you bleed?”

She nodded, her lips pulling into a tight line. Her hand slid from his arm. “It was Mr. Molson.”

“Bloody hell, Evalyn. The Mr.—the Mr. Molson that took the stand today? The one that clears the Swallowford lands?”

She nodded.

His words slowed, his voice dipping to a growl. “That same bastard that walked into the courtroom today—the very same?”

She cringed, nodding.

Rage like he’d never known swept through him. However it manifested on his face, it sent fear spiking through Evalyn’s eyes and she took a step backward.

He spun from her, a visceral snarl churning from his belly and escaping into the crisp air as he stalked to the closest tree and slammed his fist into it. And again.

The pain of the shock vibrating up his arm only fed the fury. This wasn’t his brother’s fiery death. This wasn’t his parents slipping away in their sleep. Those things had always been out of his control.

This was the devil himself threatening the one thing he’d sworn to protect in this life.

His wife.

A wife he was quickly realizing he would do anything to keep safe.

His fist slammed into the tree a third time, his glove ripping, blood splattering through the leather.

“Lachlan, stop.” Evalyn’s hands clamped onto his upper arm, halting his next swing.

He tried to shrug her off, but her grip was rock solid.