“I am neither little nor a girl,” Evangeline said, her voice as icy as her blood was boiling. “And you are the man I saw strike Westley le Wyse in the head and push him in the river. If I had not been there, he would have drowned.”
The man studied her, his eyes so cold he surely would have frozen her heart if he could have. But the fact that he was pretending to be Westley’s friend, bold enough to lie to his face after trying to kill him . . . He must have heard that Westley could not remember what happened.
Instead of feeling afraid, strength coursed through her. Nothing would keep her from at least wounding the man should he make an aggressive move toward either her or Westley.
Westley said nothing. John Underhill crossed his arms over his chest.
Finally, someone was approaching from the direction of the castle.
“Sabina,” Westley said in an expressionless voice, “is this the man you saw running away when I fell into the river?”
Sabina shook her head emphatically. “No, of course not. This is John Underhill. Why would he want to harm you? The two men I saw running away from where you fell in had, um, black hair and red hair. Neither one of them could have been John Underhill.” She smiled openmouthed, as if the idea were ridiculous.
Evangeline’s stomach roiled, but she gripped the bow and arrow even tighter, the bow and string digging into her fingers.
“Eva was not even there when you fell in the water.” Sabina made a derisive sound with her lips.
“It is Sabina who was not there. She only said she saw two men running away because I told her there were two men.”
“Westley,” John said, “if you are just going to stand there and let her accuse me of trying to kill you, pointing an arrow at me, then I’m leaving. I did not know our friendship meant so little to you.”
John Underhill turned to leave. Westley opened his mouth to speak but ultimately said nothing.
Sabina smiled slowly as she stared at Westley, her eyes trained on him even as she started walking back the way she had come.
Evangeline lowered her bow and arrow and let the string go slack.
“I . . . I don’t know what to think anymore,” Westley said softly, “but John has been my friend for a very long time.” He rubbed his temple, near where John had struck him, and closed his eyes. “I just don’t remember what happened. I wish I did, but I don’t.”
“Perhaps your memory will come back to you.”
“Perhaps.” Westley let out a heavy sigh. “Either way, I think you should not go anywhere alone.”
“Me? You are the one he wants to harm.”
“Perhaps you only saw someone who looked like John. I stopped a man from beating his wife a day or two before I fell in the river. Perhaps he was the one who struck me. He had the same blond hair as John, now that I think of it. But either way, you should not tell anyone what you saw. If someone is trying to harm me, they should not hear that there was a witness to their actions.”
“No one believes me, so I think I am safe.” She gave her words a wry tone. “Even if I am mistaken—which I am not—and the two men I saw try to harm you were not John Underhill and his servant, if you do not agree to take precautions, I shall be forced to follow you around with my bow and arrows.”
“Ha!” He cocked his head to one side and frowned. “How in the world did you get Reeve Folsham to teach you how to use a bow?”
“I asked him.”
“After you cut him with the scythe, I didn’t think you were his favorite person. But you seem to have won him over.”
“I did him a good turn. When a barrel of ale was about to fall on his head, I pushed him out of the way.”
The look of admiration in his eyes and slight smile made her heart flutter.
“I think he also wanted to help me after what happened to me two nights ago.” She lifted her face to the sun, which was high overhead. “I also wanted to learn how to sword fight. I don’t suppose that would be helpful, however, since I don’t own a sword.”
He smiled at her. “No, I don’t suppose it would be.”
As she stared at his perfect teeth, a glint of suspicion shone in his eye. He wasn’t sure if he could trust her. She couldn’t blame him, perhaps, but it felt like a challenge, to win him over the way she had won over the reeve. Someday, Westley le Wyse, you’ll be offering to teach me how to sword fight.
“And now it is time for the midday meal, so we should go.”
She took the bow and arrow and stowed them away in the inside corner of the oat barn. When she came out, Westley was standing in front of her.
“I’ve never had anyone defend my life before. You looked as if you would have shot John if he had gotten any closer to me.”
“I would have. And you should take it more seriously. He could have been hiding a knife, just hoping to get you alone and then kill you with it.”
His eyes were gentle but searching.
“I should go.”
“After the meal, will you come and read a bit?”
She nodded. “I need to give my ankle a rest.”
As they walked back together, he said, “And when you’re rested, I want you to answer my question about Lord Shiveley.”