Page 98 of The Iron Earl
Lachlan nodded, then sighed. “He’s right.” His look went to her face, concern surging in his hazel eyes. “Are you harmed? What did he do to you?”
“Nothing I couldn’t survive.”
Though the concern in his eyes told her he didn’t like her half answer, he nodded. “I need to get you back to Vinehill.”
She exhaled, relief flooding her. “There is no place I would rather be—ever again.”
His eyes pinned her, a grin lifting his lips. “Deal.”
{ Chapter 22 }
Lachlan’s arms about his wife tightened, just as they’d done every five minutes during the last day of riding.
She was still in front of him, her body long and warm against his torso. Whole and solid and safe. He hadn’t lost her. Hadn’t been late.
His hands shifted on the leather of the reins, pulling his horse to the crossroad on the right and stopping it. Rory and Finley continued straight, each with a nod of his head as they passed, parting ways.
Domnall pulled his horse next to Lachlan’s.
“Go on ahead, Dom. We’ll catch up.”
Domnall clicked his horse into motion and started on the last five miles to Vinehill.
Lachlan waited until Domnall crested the upcoming hill and disappeared beyond craggy rocks before he set his horse in motion.
Evalyn tensed, her back going rigid and she pulled slightly away from him. Her neck craned so she could look at him over her shoulder. “Why are we waiting?”
“I wanted you in private.”
“That, I already deduced. It’s the why I’m worried on.”
Lachlan waited until his horse fell into an easy, smooth gait before clearing his throat. “There is one more thing we need to deal with.”
Her eyebrow cocked at him. “What?”
“Your stepfather is still at Vinehill.”
“He’s what?” She jerked forward, twisting as fully toward him as she could without falling from the saddle.
“Still at Vinehill. Domnall learned it from one of our servants traveling through at the inn last night. Falsted knew I took off after you and he’s waiting to see who I arrive back with.”
Evalyn’s gold-green eyes clouded, her look drifting off of him to stare at the hillsides dotted with rocky outcroppings. Her shoulders slumped, her face growing pale.
It sent his stomach churning, a storm of rage brewing. “You’re scared?”
“I…” She didn’t look to him, her chest lifting, then falling with a deep sigh. “How I reacted when I last saw him…”
Her head shook and her gaze shifted back to him. “I never wanted to be weak, Lachlan. I thought I had no other choice when I was under his roof. I thought I had left that behind when I escaped with you.” She paused, her lips drawing inward for a long moment. “I wasn’t prepared at Vinehill. I saw him and I just reacted—I just shrank and I was trapped again by him. I was weak.”
Lachlan nodded, taking care to keep his words even. “And you’re still scared?”
“I am, and it doesn’t have anything to do with how I trust you—how I trust you to keep me safe, for I know you will.” Her hands twisted together in her lap. “If we’re together, then we lose everything—he will stop at nothing to ruin us and now that Molson’s dead he’ll do it out of pure spite. He’ll do it with malice just to ruin me for the pleasure of seeing me suffer. He’ll try to take away all of your land—he’ll file with the courts and he’ll win—he has so many connections.”
“He doesn’t have that much power, Eva.”
“He does. I’ve watched it again and again with others—heard him gleefully gloat about crushing one poor soul after another. He doesn’t lose, Lachlan. He doesn’t.”
Lachlan shrugged. “Maybe not. Or maybe you just need the right sword to stand up against him with.”