“And I shall be sharing Evie’s room for the remainder of—”
“My room?” she heard herself spluttering. “But…I…surely—”
“I would feel the better for it.”
“Yes, of course, but…I…” She risked a glance at McAlistair, but his face revealed nothing. Then again, what could he possibly say? Not to worry? I’ll see she’s not alone? Evie stifled a sigh of disappointment. “I’m sure that will be fine.”
“Excellent. Now, as for the other precautions to be taken…”
Evie listened as a long list of rules was set out before her. Drapes were to be kept closed, doors were to be kept locked, she was not to go outside.
Though they stung, Evie had no trouble agreeing to every dictate. She adored her freedom and she adored being outdoors, but neither quite so much as she adored being alive.
Common sense aside, she was relieved when the exhaustive catalog of safety measures came to an end. And she was grateful for Mr. Hunter’s offer to continue their chess match in the library while Christian went on guard and McAlistair saw to the horses. She didn’t relish the idea of accepting Mrs. Summers’s suggestion of more needlework or the notion of returning to her room with a book.
Someone had tried to kill her. Someone had been trying to kill her, and all the while she’d thought it a grand joke, a silly charade. Now that she believed it, she’d become not a houseguest, but a prisoner in someone else’s home.
And—as if that wasn’t quite enough to make one’s head spin—she’d just spent two heavenly hours in bed with McAlistair…the man she’d recently discovered she loved. And she’d just lost the opportunity to do so again.
How was she to concentrate on even stitches and Greek philosophers after that?
She needed an activity that interested her if she hoped to take her mind off the day’s events.
While Mrs. Summers took up her needlework in a seat by the fire, Evie and Mr. Hunter matched skill—and even wit, as Evie grew more comfortable—until the late hours of the night. But an engaging game and Mr. Hunter’s charm alone could not keep her thoughts of McAlistair at bay.
She wondered how long it would take for him to return, and once he had, she wondered why he sat in the corner, scowling and holding a book he clearly was not reading. When he set the book aside and excused himself from the room a half hour later, she wondered where he’d gone. And when Christian came in and informed them that McAlistair had asked to take the first guard that night, she wondered if he were in danger, or…
“Check.”
Evie blinked. “Beg your pardon?”
“Check,” Mr. Hunter repeated. “Your king? A game of chess? Recall something of either?”
“I…oh.” Evie glanced at the board and winced. “I’m sorry, I was distracted.”
“Yes, I noticed.” He reached over to pat her hand gently. He’d done that more than once tonight, she realized. She must look as miserable as she felt.
“I suppose I must seem a mess,” she mumbled.
“No, you seem understandably preoccupied.”
“And tired.” Mrs. Summers set aside her needlework and rose from her chair. “It is late, and you could do with a bit of sleep.”
Evie poked, a bit petulantly, at the rook she’d meant to push another space over. Blast.
“It will be here tomorrow,” Mr. Hunter said in a sympathetic voice. “You can wait until then for defeat.”
It was just the sort of swaggering comment she was coming to expect from him, and just the thing she needed to hear.
She left the room smiling.
Twenty-seven
It was a perfectly lovely day to be on the coast.
The sun was shining, the temperature was mild, and a soft salty breeze was coming off the sea.
Anyone who cared to look about would find very little lacking in the picturesque scene. Anyone, that is, but a man in a temper.
“Damn, bloody sand.” McAlistair shook out his boots at the back door. If he didn’t, Mrs. Summers would comment on the trail he left. And he wasn’t interested in having an argument with Mrs. Summers this morning. It was Evie he wanted to argue with this morning.
He’d been waiting, patiently almost, since last night for a chance to speak with her alone. Now, finally, Christian was patrolling the grounds and Mr. Hunter was asleep after taking over for McAlistair in the small hours of the morning. That left only Mrs. Summers to contend with. McAlistair considered his options as he put his boots back on and dug out his key. Perhaps the direct approach would work.
Mrs. Summers, I should like a moment of privacy with Miss Cole.
That was allowed, wasn’t it? Evie had been left alone to play chess with Mr. Hunter.
And she’d been alone with him for two days, so what would a few minutes in a parlor or library matter?
He was scowling as he pushed through the door, locked it behind him, and went in search of Evie. Allowed or not, he was taking those minutes.