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He stopped at the first coaching inn, alighted, then grabbed her about the waist and lifted her down to the ground. He set his arm along her shoulders and maneuvered her into the building.
“A room, now,” he barked at the innkeeper quick to approach him.
The man glanced at Juliet and nodded, quickly turning and showing them up the stairs.
Into a room, and Evan left her in the middle of the chamber to lock the door behind the innkeeper. He paused at the door for a long second, staring at the grain of the dark wood. With held breath, he turned back to Juliet.
She still shook, her body quivering in wave after wave, her smashed blue hat dangling limply in front of her.
He’d felt the quake in her the entire way into the town and he’d been helpless to stop it, only thinking of getting them to the true safety of a room at the inn.
She’d assessed him correctly. He wasn’t accustomed to being around women. He’d bloody well congratulated her for stabbing a man.
He knew even less what to do in a situation like this. But he wanted, desperately, for her shaking to stop.
At a loss for how to proceed, he took three strides to her and wrapped his arms around her, encapsulating her hard against his chest.
She didn’t resist, tucking her head down and into the bulk of him.
He held her there. Minute after minute after minute until the shudders eased. Then stopped.
She pulled her face free from his chest, her head swinging back and forth, her voice a whisper. “I never—I never expected him to go this far.”
“What?”
Her head wouldn’t stop shaking. “I never thought he would do such a thing. I thought…I thought if I just went with them they would let you go—not try to kill you.”
“Who did what?” Instant rage swept through Evan and he jerked a step backward, his arms abandoning her and leaving her to sway atop her own two feet. “What in the bloody hell have you got me into, woman?”
{ Chapter 5 }
“It’s—nothing—it’s nothing.” Juliet looked up at Evan, rattled at the lightning quick change in his demeanor. One second he had his arms wrapped about her, protecting her from the world, the next he was set to throw her to the wolves.
“The wound on my head begs to differ with your assessment,” he growled.
She tried to still her body, the quaking that had overtaken her threatening to return. She was stronger than this. She’d used a knife on a man before. But she’d never been near dragged off into the woods by two blackguards. For as harsh as the rookeries could be, she’d enjoyed a modicum of safety under Hoppler’s watch.
This…this was different. She was adrift and there was no feeling she despised more.
Adrift and staring up at a man that looked like he wanted to pick her up, shake her, and toss her out the window.
Her lips pulled inward, her teeth grinding into the inner flesh as she stared up at him. The long gash along his left temple looked wicked, dirt and tiny rocks from the road embedded into the quickly drying blood that would turn into a nasty scab.
She pointed to her right where two wingback chairs sat by a fire. “Sit—sit and let me clean the wound.”
He didn’t move, the only response a flair of his nostrils.
“Please. Please just sit.”
She could see it in him, the bitter decision rattling in his brain—toss her out or sit as requested.
To her surprise, he opted for the kinder option and moved to the chair at the right of the fire.
Juliet took it as a pittance of mercy and turned from him, stepping quickly to the chest of drawers with a pitcher of water and washing bowl atop. She poured the water and dunked a linen washcloth into the bowl, then squeezed the excess water from it.
Turning back to him, she approached him tentatively, her motions smooth. That was always how she approached the drunks at the Den. Smoothly so as to not startle them. Evan wasn’t a drunk, but he was ready to jump at her if given a chance.
The wet linen wrapped around her fingers, she set the cloth to the upper edge of the cut splitting his skin open. She dabbed at it, ignoring his glare.
