The Iron Earl: A Valor of Vinehill Novel by K.J. Jackson

Author:K.J. Jackson [Jackson, K.J.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: AWD Publishing
Published: 2019-02-25T00:00:00+00:00

{ Chapter 13 }

“The marquess said to come directly, m’lady.”

Evalyn looked around Lachlan’s spacious chamber, her gaze landing on the willowy slip of the maid in front of her.

“But I am under strict orders by my husband to stay in his chambers until he returns from the trial.”

“Oh, ye are English. I heard tell it down below but couldnae believe it.” The maid shuffled from one foot to the other, the pace of her words picking up. “I understand what yer husband told ye, m’lady, but his lordship insisted ye accompany me to ‘im this very moment, and ‘e’s not one for disobeyin’ orders.”

Evalyn sighed, tugging her bottom lip from under her front teeth. Lachlan had been very direct in that she was not to leave his chambers that day. They had arrived at Vinehill late in the darkness the previous night when most of the household was asleep. When he’d left early this morning before daybreak for the first day of the trial, he’d had that one request of her.

Don’t leave his rooms.

She glanced over her shoulder at the healthy fire in the marble-lined hearth that had been tended to by the other maid, Janice, since dawn. Judging by the cringed responses by both of the maids to her accent, she could only imagine how Lachlan’s grandfather would react to her without proper introduction.

“But my husband was most insistent I stay here.”

“Aye, as is his grandfather to see ye. But his is an order, m’lady. And one dinnae disobey the marquess.” Her cheeks pulled back in a wince, crinkling the edges of her eyes. Evalyn recognized the exact look in the girl’s brown eyes—the awkward position she’d been put in to retrieve Lachlan’s new bride for inspection.

Evalyn offered a slight nod. “Can you afford me one moment?” Without waiting for an answer, she walked across the room into the adjoining dressing chamber and stopped in front of the tall mirror.

Her hand ran downward across her belly, smoothing the wrinkled creases of the grey wool as she looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her only other choice for clothing was her mother’s dress sitting crumpled on the bench by the window. Lachlan had kindly brought it up from the wagon last night, but then had set it in here to be taken to be cleaned and mended.

She didn’t want to meet the marquess in the worn wool dress, but her mother’s ball gown would be an even worse choice. Her fingers ran along her upsweep, smoothing it across her temple, and she leaned toward the mirror to inspect the dark circles under her eyes. Even after the stupor her body was in from the hard day of travel, Lachlan had kept her up far too long last night, making her body writhe under him. And it was only a few hours later that his lips on her neck were nudging her awake, his insistent shaft pressing hard into her thigh.

Not that she would trade those moments away for less tired-looking eyes.

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