Evan’s gaze flicked up, surprised, though his hands didn’t still. He broke another twig, tossed it into the fire. “Know who?”
“The man Duncan mentioned. That earl.”
His jaw clenched almost imperceptibly, and then he smiled—that infuriating, lazy half-smile he wore whenever he wanted to dodge a question. “Aye, I ken the name well enough. Every man in Scotland kens the Earl of Newborough. He casts a long shadow. I know the name, not the man.”
“You jumped like a wasp had got in your pants when Duncan mentioned him. Seems an odd reaction for someone you only know by name.”
For an instant, his mask slipped. His mouth opened as if he might actually answer her, but then he shook his head. “Ye have a sharp tongue, ye know that? Too sharp by half. It’ll get ye into trouble.”
She smiled wryly. “Maybe. But you’re avoiding the question.”
Evan leaned forward again, closer this time, and Ruby caught the scent of him—smoke and leather, salt from the sea still clinging faintly to his clothes. He dropped another twig into the fire, then looked at her with something unreadable in his expression. “Ye want me to talk? Then why dinna ye tell meyersecrets first? It seems only fair.”
She blinked, caught off guard. “My...my secrets?”
“Aye. Ye speak and behave like no woman I’ve ever met.” He gazed at her. “Who are ye really, Ruby Douglas?”
Ruby’s pulse jumped. “I...um...I—”
“Perhaps,” he murmured, “ye could start with this husband ye are running from.”
Oh, hell. Why was he asking her this? Why did it matter? She wanted to tell him to mind his own business but the firelight, the whisky, the quiet night pressing in—it all worked to weaken her resolve. And he was looking at her like he actually wanted to know, not just to satisfy idle curiosity.
“He isn’t my husband,” she said finally. “But there was someone. We were engaged to be married.”
Evan tilted his head. “Were?”
“That’s right.Were.” Ruby’s voice wavered, but once she started, she couldn’t seem to stop. “He was having an affair with someone from work. I found out, and I called it off. Simple as that.” She let out a short, bitter laugh. “Though it didn’t feel simple at the time.”
For a moment, there was silence. The fire popped, sending up a faint spray of sparks. Ruby wrapped her arms tighter around her knees, suddenly aware of how exposed she felt, like she’d peeled back a layer she hadn’t meant to.
But Evan didn’t mock her. He didn’t pity her either. Instead, he gave a small nod, as though acknowledging something private and important. “Thank ye,” he said quietly.
Ruby blinked. “For what?”
“For trusting me with the truth.” His eyes met hers across the flames, steady and warm.
The sincerity in his tone disarmed her completely. She opened her mouth to make a flippant remark to cover her unease, but instead she found herself smiling—really smiling, for what felt like the first time in ages.
“You’re not what I expected,” she found herself saying.
He arched a brow, amused. “And what did ye expect? A rogue without conscience? A man who lives only for himself?”
“You’ve given a pretty good example of it so far,” Ruby said. “But you... you’ve surprised me.”
Evan chuckled, a low, easy sound that rolled out into the night. “Good. I’d hate to be predictable.”
The tension between them eased and the sharp edges of the earlier conversation turned into banter. He teased her about her strange turn of speech, and she shot back with pointed remarks about his smugness. He told her a ridiculous story about oncetrying to pass himself off as a priest to get out of a brawl, and she nearly choked on her own laughter.
For that brief stretch of time, the world seemed to fade. It was just the two of them, the firelight flickering between, and a warmth that had nothing to do with the whisky.
Eventually, Ruby’s laughter trailed off into a soft sigh. The night air was growing colder, the embers dimming. She pushed herself to her feet, brushing off her skirts. “I should get some sleep.”
Evan stood too, though he didn’t make a move toward her. His gaze lingered, and she felt a strange flutter in her chest, one she resolutely ignored.
“Aye,” he said. “We have an early start.”
Ruby nodded, then turned away. Isla had set up a tent nearby for the two of them, and Ruby ducked inside, careful not to wake the other woman already curled beneath her blanket. She lay down, staring into the dark above, the thin fabric of the tent rustling in the night breeze.
Her thoughts kept circling back to Evan—his smile in the firelight, the sound of his laugh, the unexpected gentleness in his eyes when he’d thanked her.
She closed her eyes and pressed her face into the blanket, willing herself to sleep.
