Page 64 of The Silent Songbird

The violent feelings suddenly drained out of her. She should not be this close to Westley, should not be clutching his shirt. He would think she was like Sabina, trying to trap him into marrying her. Her hands went limp.

“Let me go,” she said softly, uncurling her fingers and pushing gently away. Unable to lift her eyes to meet his, she stared at his chest and wiped her cheeks with her hands.

But instead of letting her go, Westley pulled her closer, his hands slipping from her arms to embrace her.

Her cheek was pressed against his chest, against his soft linen shirt, as his hand caressed the back of her head.

“Do not cry anymore.” His deep voice was warm in her ear. “Lord Shiveley will not harm you. I will not allow it.”

Could this be happening? His embrace felt so good, so safe and warm and lovely. If only Westley loved her. How brave she could feel with his arms, and his love, to surround her. If only he loved heras much as she loved him. She would imagine that he did, just for a moment, as she closed her eyes and breathed in his freshly laundered shirt and masculine scent.

Her heart ached, but it was a lovely ache. She would remember this moment for the rest of her life, just like the moment after she saved him from drowning, the moment she realized he was alive and she had saved him.

She stood very still, afraid if she moved he would break the closeness. But he continued to hold her until they heard footsteps in the corridor outside.

Evangeline pushed away, breaking free from his arms, keeping her face turned away from him.

She walked over to where she had left her broom. “I should get back to work.” She reached for the broom, rubbing away the tears from her cheeks with her other hand, but Westley touched her shoulder.

“Don’t look at me.” She lifted her apron to wipe her nose. “I must look like a red, blotchy mess after all that crying.”

“I just want you to know,” he said, his hand still warm on her shoulder, “that I think you are very brave and that I understand. I will speak with my father, and we shall find a way out for you, out of this unwanted marriage.”

“You won’t tell the king I am here, will you?” She gazed up at him before remembering her tear-streaked face.

He caught her hand in his. A strand of hair fell over her eye. Just as she was about to push it out of the way, Westley brushed it back, his hand grazing her forehead. The breath stilled in her throat.

“I think you are lovely, even after all that crying.” A tiny smile raised the corners of his lips.

Her heart flipped inside her.

“I will do everything I can to keep you safe.” He hurried out of the room, leaving her staring after him.

Westley rushed out of the library, his heart pounding, before he completely lost his mind.

Eva—Evangeline—had finally broken down the wall he had always felt with her, had opened her heart and told him the truth. She had looked so vulnerable, so desperate and determined . . . and so beautiful. Her lips were plump and red and her eyes sparkling and bright green from the tears swimming in them. Holding her made him feel completely alive. He’d never wanted anything so much in his life as to kiss her.

He could not be thinking this way. His mind was churning even faster than his heart was beating.

He practically ran through the house. His father was walking down the staircase.

“Father, I need to speak to you.”

“Let’s go into the library.”

Eva—Evangeline—was in there. “No, let’s go . . . in here.” Westley led his father into a small empty bedroom.

“What is it, son? Did you see John Underhill again?”

“No, Father, but I did see the Earl of Shiveley’s men. They came here looking for a red-haired maiden who ran away from Berkhamsted Castle two weeks ago.”

He rubbed his cheek beneath his black eye patch. “Your mother told me you suspect Eva is Evangeline, the king’s cousin and ward.”

“I just spoke to Eva and she confessed it, without me even asking her.”

“She is the girl they were seeking.”

“Yes. It seems the king wants her to marry Lord Shiveley.”