The Silent Songbird (Hagenheim #7)(63)

Westley, Reeve Folsham, and Evangeline kept watch over their foes—Westley with John’s knife, the reeve with his block of wood, and Evangeline with her bow and arrow aimed and ready. When help returned, more people came with them, asking what happened.

Westley tried to answer their questions as briefly as possible. Some of them left to follow and heckle the prisoners. In the chaos Westley took Evangeline’s bow and arrow from her, gave them to Reeve Folsham, and clasped her hand.

She followed him away from the crowd while the reeve tried to get everyone to go back to the festival and enjoy themselves.

Westley led her to the clearing where he’d first heard her sing, the place where he’d discovered she’d been deceiving him about being mute.

He faced her, holding on to her arms and standing quite close. “Thank you for saving me, both today and when you saved me from drowning. John confirmed that it wasn’t Sabina.” He took both her hands in his. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. Will you forgive me?”

“Of course I forgive you. I cannot blame you for not believing me.”

He was beautiful. After she had heard that John Underhill was going to kill him, her whole body exploded with strength. She assaulted Sabina and held her on the ground. She shot an arrow that could have killed a man and did wound him in the shoulder. She had not even been afraid, because she was too furious that anyone would try to hurt Westley.

“Did John’s men hurt you?” he asked. “Or was he lying about capturing you?”

“I am not hurt, but they grabbed me and put something over my head and carried me to the dairy.” Her heart pounded and her knees went weak as she recalled it. “They left me at the bottom of the stairs, and I . . . I broke the door handle with a churn. I’m sorry, but you will have to repair the door.”

His arms enfolded her, pulling her close. She pressed her cheek against his, her height a perfect match for his. He only had to lean down a bit.

He squeezed her shoulder. “I’m so sorry they did that to you. But . . . you amaze me,” he said softly, stroking her shoulder.

“Did they hurt you?” Evangeline closed her eyes, memorizing the way it felt to embrace him, his arms around her . . . warm and solid and comfortable . . . the way he smelled . . . like lavender and fresh air and Westley.

“No, I am well,” he said, his breath warm on her neck, “now that I know you are well. And later I shall think more about how much I want to punish those men for laying hands on you.”

Do not think about that now. Just think about what I’m thinking about, which is how much I want you to kiss me.

“Evangeline?” His deep voice rumbled next to her ear.

“Yes?”

“I don’t want you to work as a servant anymore.”

“Why not? What shall I do?”

“You are the king’s cousin.”

“Perhaps your mother would allow me to do some mending. I embroider very well, and I imagine mending would not be so different from embroidery.”

He leaned back and gazed intently into her eyes, an unhurried searching, before saying, “Are you sure you aren’t hurt?”

“I am sure.” Why didn’t he kiss her? She might just kiss him. Nicola would applaud her, but what would Westley think? Kissing him was no different from Ruth uncovering Boaz’s feet. But would he react to her the way Boaz reacted to Ruth? The uncertainty kept her lips six inches from his.

“Westley?”

Evangeline pulled away and turned around. Westley’s sister Cate approached them.

“There you are. Mother is very worried and wants you to come to the castle right away. Both of you.” Cate raised her brows at them, a half smile on her lips.

Evangeline started after his younger sister, but Westley stayed her with a hand to her shoulder. He bent and brushed his lips against her temple. After squeezing her hand, he started walking behind Cate.

Her heart fluttered and she squeezed back.

“What were you two doing out here by yourselves?” Cate asked with a backward glance.

“Talking,” Westley said.

As they emerged onto the road, people stared at them, but Westley seemed to purposely avoid making eye contact as he hurried toward the castle. One called out a question about whether someone was trying to kill Westley. He simply shook his head, smiled, and waved as he kept up his fast pace. Evangeline followed beside him.

People were staring at their joined hands. Westley would have a lot of questions to answer—when he slowed down long enough to hear them.

Lady le Wyse was waiting for them in front of the castle. “I am so relieved to see you both! Your father is questioning John and his men. I hope they did not harm either of you.”

“We are well.” Westley let go of Evangeline’s hand to embrace his mother. “Neither of us are hurt.”

Lady le Wyse reached for his side near his waist. “Then what is this blood on your shirt?”





Chapter Twenty-Four


Evangeline gasped at the circular red stain about the size of a fist that had soaked through Westley’s white linen tunic. His mother pulled his shirt up to show a small wound in his side.

“Mother, please. It is nothing.” Westley pulled his shirt out of her grasp and back down over his stomach.

“Come inside then. I must put something on that.”