Page 78 of Evie and Louis: The Story so Far

Evie.

She blinked, froze, her green eyes wide with shock. Then she flew at him, closing the short distance between them, throwing her arms about his neck and holding on tight.

“Louis!” she whispered, and for the first time in forever, he could breathe again.

Chapter 37

To Dare the Devil

19th June 1842, Fort William, The Highlands, Scotland.

It took a moment for Louis to come to his senses, to realise they were standing in a public street, embracing in broad daylight. He grasped Evie’s hand and dragged her behind him into the carpenter’s workshop. She gasped, but did not murmur a word of protest. The door was locked but flew opened with one hard kick. He entered and pulled Evie in behind him, slamming the door shut and pulling her into his embrace, holding on tight.

His heart was hammering so hard he felt giddy, but Evie was here, in his arms. It felt like a dream. Her head rested against his chest, her hands clutching at his lapels. There was a dull thud as her bonnet slid to the ground, but neither of them made a move to retrieve it. They just stood there, holding on tight, neither of them saying a word. Louis lowered his head, burying his face in her soft hair and closing his eyes, breathing in the scent of her. Home, his heart whispered. Though he had come in search of her, he had come home.

“Ma petite,” he said, hardly recognising his own voice, thick with emotion.

“Your heart is beating very fast,” she observed. She was trembling, he realised now, he could hear the quaver in her voice, the fine tremor running through her body, so close to his.

“My heart is beating for the first time since you left me alone,” he replied, trying to mask the anger behind the words, the hurt. Not her fault, he reminded himself. She’d had no choice but to leave him. Yet the sense of abandonment remained.

She looked up at him then, meeting his gaze. “I didn’t know until it was too late,” she said, beseeching. “I could not stop them.”

He cupped her face with his hand, his thumb stroking the satiny skin of her cheek. She was here. She was really here. “I know,” he whispered.

“But why are you here?” She sounded awed that he was. Uncomprehending.

“You know why I’m here,” he said, and that had sounded angry, brutal. She drew back a little, wide-eyed.

Louis swallowed down the emotion roiling inside him, reminding himself to step carefully, but he was all raw edges and exposed nerves. He had not felt this vulnerable and afraid since he was a child. He had sworn no one would ever have the power to hurt him again and yet, here he was, with his heart exposed.

“I’m sorry,” he managed, drawing in a shaky breath. “I’m just… Merde, Evie. Do you have any idea how much I missed you?”

She stared up at him, utterly guileless. “No,” she replied frankly. “I don’t. Not really.”

Voices sounded on the street outside the shop, and she tensed, turning her head to peer through the grubby window.

“That’s Mama and Muir. They’ll be worried when they discover I’m not in the milliners.”

“Muir?” he repeated, his worst suspicions confirmed when she blushed. “One of Morven’s sons, I collect. Your prospective husband, perhaps?”

She swallowed hard, and he sensed her anxiety. “He’s not asked me yet.”

Yet.

Louis felt sick. No. He felt savage and on the edge of violence, like slamming out of the dingy workshop and finding this Muir and explaining to him that Evie was his in terms that would leave no one in any doubt. Get a grip, Louis, he warned himself.

“And when he does ask you?” Louis asked, the words little more than a growl. He wasn’t certain he wanted to hear the answer, but he had to. You could not win a battle if you did not know who you were fighting. And the battle for Evie’s heart was one he had no intention of losing. She looked away from him and pain lanced through his chest.

“I d-don’t know,” she whispered, blinking back tears.

Tension simmered between them, but she did not let him go. Her body pressed close to his, her hands still clutching at his coat.

“I know,” he said, sliding his hand behind her neck, into her hair, tugging gently and tilting her head back. “I know, because you are mine. We both know it, even if you have been running from the truth. You belong with me, ma petite. When he asks, your answer is no. Do you hear me, Evie?”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice was screaming at him to stop. This was not the way. He had promised to give her time, to make her own choice, to come to him because she loved him. But time was running out, and he was too afraid of what he might do if she did not make that choice at all.

Diable.