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Chapter 5
Evie heard the sound of birds chirping. She opened her eyes and looked around. She was in Peacehaven, surrounded by rose bushes and other flowers. She squinted at the bright sun and smiled, lifting her face toward it.
“You’ll get even more freckles,” said an achingly familiar male voice. “Not that I care, but your mother is going to complain.”
Evie turned toward her most favorite person in the world.
“Let her complain, Grandpa,” she said, chuckling. “She says I shan’t find any suitors with my freckles. But really, do I want a husband who will only appreciate me as long as I am not all spotted?”
“You sure don’t, Flamebird.” He laughed huskily and sat next to her.
Evie rearranged her skirts, so Somerset had more room to sit. “Shall we go to the tower today?”
“Do you want to?” he asked.
“I do.” She smiled up at him. “You can tell me the story again.”
The duke laughed again. “You know the story by heart, darling girl.”
“I know I do.” She looked at him with all her love for the dearest man. “But I love to hear the way you tell it.”
“All right, Flamebird.” He stood and towered over her, shadowing the sun. “Lead the way.”
She looked at him, confused. Something was different about him at that moment. His beautiful features were shadowed; he looked almost foreign.
He put his hand on her shoulder.
“Evie,” he said. “Wake up.”
“I’m not…” she began and opened her eyes. She was jostled out of sleep, bewildered. She looked around, not recognizing where she was. It took her a moment to realize that the person towering over her and shaking her awake wasn’t her beloved grandfather, but the Viscount St. Clare, and she wasn’t in her cozy garden by the sea in Peacehaven, she was at a dingy inn, asleep in the chair by the fireplace. She rubbed her eyes with her knuckles and sat up.
“I’m up,” she said, not completely out of her dream state. She cast about the inn for the familiar form and the husky, gravelly sound of her grandfather’s voice, but he was gone, and the dream was gone too. She was left alone in this miserable reality. She wanted to bury her face in her hands and stay in this place forever. But she had to move. So, she got up and put on the most brilliant smile she could muster.
“Did you find a place for us to sleep?”
“I think you’ve managed that well by yourself,” Gabriel answered, indicating her state of half slumber.
“Oh.” She laughed. “It’s the fire. It lulled me to sleep and gave me a false sense of security.”
“It’s alright,” he answered. “Our coachman was looking after you.” He extended his hand. “Come, now. I’ve found us lodgings for the night.”
“You did?” She put her hand in his and let him pull her up to her feet. She ran her fingers through her hair, brushing it away from her face.
“Yes, but I was cold and miserable and, in my haste to get us a roof over our heads, I might have told a couple of lies.” He took their valises and shuffled toward the door.
“What kind of lies?” she asked.
He turned to her, a wide grin on his face. “It’s better if it comes as a surprise to you. Just remember, you have to agree with whatever I tell you.”
“That’s not fair—” she began, but at that moment, he opened the door. The wind howled into the inn, the rain whipped in their faces, so no further conversation was even remotely possible.
By the time they reached the cottage, they were both wet to the bones. Evie’s teeth chattered so violently she was worried she’d break them.
“It’s pissing down there, isn’t it?” a croaking female voice called from somewhere inside the house. “Well, don’t just stand there; come on in.”
Gabriel didn’t even hesitate. He entered further into the house, sloshing water and dirt in his wake.
Evie paused in the doorway, looking down at herself. “We’ll get everything wet,” she said helplessly.
