Page 54 of Wicked Exile

“Aye,” he said, the one word a grumble. For how worried he was about her arm healing, he hated talking about it. Hated what his brother did to her.

And she still needed answers.

A deep breath in her lungs and she opened her mouth as he finished buttoning the fall front of his trousers. “So let me approach this with directness and not seduction.” She craned her neck to glance at him over her shoulder. “Will you please tell me what is going on in this castle with you and your brother and Ness? Something is very off—wrong—here and I need to know what’s happening.”

His fingers just reaching her sash, his hand stilled on her lower back. “You don’t need to know anything, Juliet. I’m handling it. You needn’t concern yourself with it.” He yanked the sash around her right side, grabbed the left side of the fabric from her hand, and then jerked a quick knot into place in front of her belly.

She spun around to him. “Are you handling it? Truly?” She lifted her right arm. “For the gash along my arm would say differently.”

“Your arm has nothing to do with it.”

“No? An arrow almost went through my chest, and you’re telling me not to worry on it? You may not be concerned for my safety, but I now have a healthy fear of getting killed just by walking into a room. You may not want to protect me, but I sure as hell want to protect myself.”

The grey in his eyes darkened into a storm. “Of course I want to protect you, don’t ye dare think otherwise.”

“Then what am I supposed to think?”

“You’re not supposed to think.” His fingers ran through his hair, sending the mussed strands onto end. “That’s the problem. All of this was supposed to be simple and it’s not.”

“Thinking is a problem? Shall I just leave now?” She started toward the door.

Evan reached out and grabbed her arm, stopping her progress. “Juliet, stop. The last thing I want is for you to stop your own mind.”

Her feet stilled and she stared over her shoulder at him, silent.

His hand dropped away from her arm. Expelling a long breath, his head shook as he looked to the ceiling. “I swore an oath to my brother that I would never marry. Never sire children. The earldom would be his and his heir’s.”

Her jaw dropped. “You what?”

His gaze dropped to her. “I swore the oath long ago, when we were eight. It was the honorable thing to do and I stick by it.”

She spun toward him, searching his face. “You won’t marry—won’t know the joy of a wife, of children because of an oath you made when you were eight?”

“Aye.”

Her eyes closed for a long breath before she opened them to him. “You were eight.”

“I was right to do it and I stand by that vow. I’ve never wavered from it.”

“You were right to do so?” Her brow furrowed. “How? Why?”

“Gilroy should have been first-born. He has every right to the earldom.”

“But—”

“No. No buts. It is the way of things, Juliet.” His look skewered her, stealing her words.

A sharp period. End of conversation.

She’d wanted to know, and now she did. He wasn’t going to give her more.

All of the oddness she’d felt since arriving at Whetland fell into place. Gilroy’s anger. The lost babe. The threat she posed.

Hell.He needed to know. Needed to know what Ness told her. Needed to know who his brother truly was.

Her fingers curled into her palms as she suffered his glare and she heaved a breath. “Your brother means to be rid of me by any means possible, Evan. Ness heard him say that very thing.”

“What?” His eyes opened wide. “No. He knows this betrothal is a farce.”