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“A lot has happened in between, and ’tis as well ye dinna remember it. However, ’twas Eala’s quick thinking saved ye from arrest and made sure ye were brought here.”
Evan turned his watery gaze on Eala. “My guardian angel. I canna wait to make ye my wife.”
A knot in Ambrose’s belly tightened. He’d prefer to avoid an argument with an invalid he’d wrestled from the jaws of death, but the despair in Eala’s eyes tore at his heart.
She shook her head. “Get some rest, Ambrose. Evan and I need to talk.”
He left reluctantly, wishing he could scoop her up and carry her away from this loveless household.
* * *
Eala let go of Evan’s hand and made a big show of straightening the rumpled linens. “Ye were thrashing about,” she murmured, delaying the inevitable as long as possible.
He caught hold of her wrist, his grip surprisingly strong. “I want us to be married right away. I’ll tell my father to send for the minister.”
“Nay,” she replied, heart hammering in her chest. “Ye need time to recover.”
“Life’s precarious,” he retorted. “I want us to be together.”
“I dinna think yer parents will approve of us marrying in their home,” she countered, annoyed by her cowardice. Why not simply tell him she loved another?
“Who cares what they think?”
Still the same thoughtless Evan, oblivious to the uncertainty of his position within his own family. He was safe thanks only to his father’s influence. “I do,” she replied. “There isna any point antagonizing yer father right now.”
Though ye take pleasure in doing so.
“Is it because of my arm?” he asked, raising his stump.
Eala had to admit the loss of his arm made Evan less appealing as a husband, but she knew deep down she’d still love Ambrose if he suffered even worse afflictions.
“’Tis true,” her betrothed suddenly growled. “I can see it in yer eyes. Ye dinna want to marry a cripple.”
“Evan,” she tried, hoping to calm his agitation.
“Go, leave me be,” he shouted.
She wavered, her belly in knots, uncertain what to do when, to her immense relief, Ambrose reappeared. “Leave him,” he said softly. “He’s been through a lot. He’ll see things differently once he feels better.”
Exhausted and heartbroken, she allowed him to draw her into the hallway. “I’m a coward,” she confessed. “I couldna tell him.”
She went willingly into his arms and sobbed against his chest, until a loud cough startled them.
* * *
Ambrose kept Eala in the protection of his arms when she tried to pull away. He had never been a liar, and decided he wasn’t going to start now Mr. Bruce had come across his son’s fiancée in a compromising situation. “Miss Calhoun is exhausted. Has a chamber been prepared for her?”
Bruce narrowed his eyes. “Aye, but what’s going on here?”
Ambrose didn’t like the censure the man directed at Eala. “If ye would summon a maid to show Miss Calhoun to her chamber, I’d like to meet with ye privately.”
Bruce hollered, “Maisie.”
A maid dressed in a spotlessly clean uniform came running.
“Take Miss Calhoun to the guest chamber,” Bruce demanded brusquely without even looking at Eala.
“Get some sleep,” Ambrose told her, wishing he could wipe the tears from her face. “’Twill be all right. I promise.”
