“I was so afraid you would think I was too selfish to . . .” She was about to say, “too selfish to love,” but he hadn’t said anything about loving her.
“Why would you think you were selfish? You’ve risked your life more than once for me.”
“I’ve always feared that if people knew how selfish I was, they couldn’t possibly love me.”
“But why?”
“I . . . I had a very unkind nurse as a young child, before Muriel came to me. She would yell, ‘You’re so selfish.’ And her face would scrunch up, as if being selfish was the most disgusting thing imaginable. I would feel so hated every time she said that. I learned to hide my feelings. I didn’t even tell Muriel how I felt about most things. I was afraid I was unlovable, afraid she would hate me the way that nurse seemed to hate me. I just don’t want you to hate me.” Had she said too much? What would he think?
Westley kissed her forehead as she kept her head down.
“Evangeline.” His voice was gentle. “I could never hate you. That nurse was cruel and unreasonable to treat a child that way. All of us are selfish sometimes. We’re weak men and women. But you are kind, you feel remorse when you hurt someone, and you jump into rivers to save people who are about to die.”
His words made her smile and drove away the pain in her heart.
“You also point arrows at people you think might murder me, and you disguise yourself in men’s clothing to try to help. You’re not selfish, Evangeline. I love you.”
“I love you too.” Her heart ached with the truth of it as she closed her eyes. “I love you so very much.”
They sat shoulder to shoulder in warm silence. Finally, she said, “I told myself I would run away from Berkhamsted Castle. For a long time I thought I just wanted to avoid marrying one of Richard’s friends. But a year or two ago I began to realize . . . I longed for things.”
It felt good to tell Westley this, especially since he was listening so intently. “I longed to be held, to feel safe. I longed for someone who would comfort me when I was sad. I longed for someone who would never think I was selfish, who would never hate me. I decided I wanted to be like the peasants—free to marry for love. But . . . it’s not possible.”
“Of course it’s possible. I am holding you and comforting you right now.” He pulled away, and with his fingers under her chin, he lifted her face. Very gingerly, he kissed the corner of her mouth, pressing his lips oh so softly to her cut. The tender gesture sent a thrill all the way to her toes. She closed her eyes. His warm lips caressed her cheek as well.
He whispered, “I could kill that man for striking you. Tell me what he did.”
Her eyelids fluttered open, and Westley brushed a strand of hair off her cheek, letting his hand linger on her skin. It was difficult to concentrate on speaking when he was so close.
“He took me to my room and locked me in to get dressed—I don’t think he liked my men’s clothing. But on the way up the stairs, I told him God would punish him, and he slapped me. Oh dear.” She suddenly remembered. “Where is Muriel? Is she all right?”
“Yes, she is well. She’s with Frederick.”
“Did you see her?”
“She looks like she’s had a hard two weeks, but I think she will be well.” He caressed her cheek again. “You know, you said you wanted to be held. And to be free to be married to someone you loved.”
“Yes.”
“Do you know what I want?”
“Tell me.”
“I want to fall in love with a beautiful young woman, to marry her, and to have beautiful red-haired children.” He stared into her eyes, his body turned toward her on the narrow bench. “I’ve already fallen in love with her. Do you think her guardian will give me permission to marry her?”
“You can ask him.” Would he say no? If he did, she would run away from Berkhamsted Castle again. Perhaps there would be a place for them in France. Or the Holy Roman Empire.
Westley leaned down and pressed his lips to hers.
“What is this?”
Evangeline pulled away. The priest was giving them a horrified look. She hadn’t known his eyes could open that wide.
“Are you kissing in the Lord God’s chapel? There is no kissing in the chapel! Unless it is to seal a marriage vow.”
Westley stood and kept hold of her hand. He did not apologize. He only nodded at the priest as they left, and he led her down the steps. “I’ve never been asked to leave the chapel for kissing before,” he said.
“Are you sure? Because you don’t seem very embarrassed about it.”
“Why should I be embarrassed for kissing the woman I plan to marry?”
Evangeline bit her lip. The king had not given them permission yet. And he might not. After all, Westley had no title, and the king did not believe in marrying for love. She was Richard’s political pawn, and Lord Shiveley had revealed to her just how valuable a pawn she was. Would her cousin give her up to Westley?