He leaned against the table, arms crossed, keeping his voice gruff. “I dinna answer to ye, lass. But I’m here, aren’t I? The door’s locked now, and no one will trouble ye tonight.”
Her eyes narrowed, still skeptical, still bristling. And yet, he thought he saw something flicker there—something that wasn’t only anger.
“I...um...right. Thanks.”
Thanks now, was it? This was a night for surprises. He almost made a sarcastic comment but bit his lip. He raised the bottle of whisky and took a long draft. It burned down his throat nicely, taking some of his tension with it.
“Why in God’s name didnae ye lock the door?” he asked at last. “Anyone could’ve strolled in here.”
Ruby stiffened, her chin lifting in that way that suggested she was about to defend herself. “I didn’t think of it. At home, I don’t need to. I’ve got a video entry system.”
Evan stared at her. “A... what?”
She blinked, color draining from her face as if she realized she’d said far too much. Her lips parted, then shut again with a snap. “Nothing,” she muttered, adjusting the blanket on her shoulders.
He tilted his head, studying her closely. The way she looked—mortified, guilty—set his mind spinning. Was this ‘entry system’ some fancy invention he’d never heard of, some luxury only the wealthy could afford? Guards at her door, servants to fetch and carry, a life where she never had to think about danger. It made sense.
“Did you find the information you wanted?” she asked. “While you were out, I mean. About...” She hesitated, then steadied her gaze on him. “About anyone looking for us?”
He shook his head, forcing ease into his tone though unease still prickled beneath his skin. “Nothing. If they’re sniffing after us, they havenae reached this far. We’re safe enough for tonight.” He held out the bottle of whisky. “Here.”
She eyed it for a second, then took it. A cough slipped out as the burn of the whisky hit her throat.
He grinned at her. “Not used to strong drink?”
She just scowled, then took another swig, keeping her expression neutral and managing not to cough, before passing the bottle back.
He watched her for a long moment, then said quietly, “That ring ye left on the quay?”
Her head jerked up. “What of it?”
“I’m not stupid, lass. I know a wedding ring when I see one. Gold, fine work. Not the sort of trinket ye’d just cast aside.”
“Is that so? You could have fooled me.”
Evan leaned back, studying her. Hurt clung to her words, even though she tried to keep them flat. He suspected that there was a husband involved. A man she was running from. A bastard who’d hurt her, perhaps. The thought stirred something he didn’t much like the feel of—a strange, fierce protectiveness.
He set the bottle down on the table, his hand curling into a fist. Whatever else Ruby Douglas was—sharp-tongued, maddening, a mystery tangled in riddles—he couldn’t stomach the idea of her belonging to a man who’d harm her.
“I need to know, lass,” he said. “This husband of yers, could he be coming for ye? We already have people chasing us. If there are others, I need to know.”
She snorted. “Coming after me? Hardly.” Then her expression turned serious. “No. You don’t need to worry about that. He’s back in...he’s um...a long way away.”
Evan nodded once. “Good. Now get some sleep. We leave early.”
Without waiting for a response, he lowered himself into the chair, laid his head back against the wall, and closed his eyes.
But he could still feel Ruby watching him.
