Her breath hitched sharply. Oh God, had Aidan seen the defect in her? Had he realized that she was not that girl he’d imagined when corresponding with her? “What shall I do now?” she whispered.

The logs snapped and crackled as the fire ate at them. And then Eamon’s deep, rolling voice broke the silence. “You stay here.” He said it as though stating the obvious.

A snort, unladylike and far too similar to a sob, escaped her lips. “Here?” She shook her head. “I will not take charity.”

His bronze brows furrowed tight. “Charity? The Evernights vowed to care for you. Would you have us break that vow?”

“I’d say Aidan broke it when he left me today,” she snapped before flinching. Bad form, dear, displaying a temper now. Keep that stiff upper lip. “I merely meant that you have no culpability in this, Mr. Evernight.”

“I was Eamon before,” he muttered, his voice stronger now, as if he’d moved closer. She daren’t look. Not when she feared she might cry should she meet his gaze. “And I am also the head of this family now. Which means you are mistaken, Miss Luella. I am very much culpable. More than you know.”

Lu glanced his way, focusing on his shirt, now stretched tight over the wide expanse of his shoulders as he crossed his beefy arms in front of his chest.

She kept her voice soft and modulated as she’d been taught. “Setting aside any feelings of responsibility, misguided or not”—he snorted—“the fact remains that I cannot stay here without feeling that I am accepting charity.”

His chest did not move. And she turned back to the fire. The heat of it warmed her cool skin. What would she do? A rustling sounded to her right, and then he was crouching before her, caging her in with his big body and gentle warmth. Holding on to the chair arms, Eamon waited for her to look him in the eyes. When she did, a strange burst of feeling coursed through her limbs. That deep, pure, blue gaze of his tripped her heart and tugged at her center. She wanted to lean forward and bury her face in the crook of his neck, where she instinctively knew it would be warm and smooth. She wanted to beg him to hold her. Just for a moment or two, until this feeling of slow drifting away abated. Instead, she let her head dip down and stared at her clenched hands.

“Lu…” He paused as if not knowing what to say before starting up once more, his words halting and unsure. “Aidan did not—”

“Stop,” she said, with a viciousness of feeling that surged up from her depths. “I beg of you, do not speak of him. Or make excuses, for I won’t believe them.”

Eamon took a breath. “Perhaps you would. Perhaps it would make things—”

“Please.” She gripped her skirts as she blinked rapidly against the growing tears. “I cannot bear another revelation now.” She did not want to know if Aidan found her unsatisfactory, or if he perhaps had fallen in love with someone else. She could not. “If that makes me a coward, then so be it.”

“You are no coward,” he said softly. “Nor does it change my insistence on you remaining here.”

“Eamon,” she whispered, “don’t make me feel like a poor relation.” She’d had enough of that feeling for a lifetime.

His hand, so warm and rough, covered hers. “Then become the mistress of this house and rule it.”

Her head snapped up, and he did not blink. “Marry me.” As he spoke, a wash of red flooded his cheeks and ran in a crimson wave down his neck. He swallowed audibly. “I know I am not the man you hoped to have, but I will honor and protect you with all that I am. I swear it, Lu.”

Shock tingled through her and robbed her of her breath. She could only stare at his lovely, strong, yet guarded face, watching as he grew redder with discomfort. “Oh, Eamon.” Tears smarted. “I couldn’t ask you to—”

“You are not asking. I am.” He peered at her as if willing an answer from her lips. “Not out of pity, or obligation, but because I want to.”

“Why?” The question burst forth, and she winced. “Why would you want to marry me?” she said more gently.

His jaw bunched, and for a moment, she feared he might not answer.

“I am lonely.” He closed his eyes at the admission, squeezing them tight as if pained. Then he looked at her again. “I am not… good with people. I never expected to marry. That was Aidan’s privilege. But I feel comfortable with you, Lu.” His lashes lowered, shielding his gaze as he stared down at their still-joined hands. “I think perhaps you are lonely too.”

A lump filled her throat. If only he knew the half of it.

“We could have each other to turn to,” he said.

“Oh, Eamon.” She turned her hand over to thread her fingers through his, and the clasp felt so very natural and comforting that she smiled tremulously. “You would do that for me?”

He frowned down at their hands then raised his gaze. “I am doing it for me, Lu. Don’t forget that.”

His reply had been soft, almost a warning, and yet a shiver of heat ran through her all the same. The heat within her grew when she licked her dry lips and his focus tightened, growing intent. She’d dreamed of Aidan for so long, and here she was suddenly wanting Eamon.

But enough to marry him? Outside the wind raged. The thought of moving on, leaving here, where she at least had Eamon’s friendship, terrified her. Was she a coward for considering?

Eamon remained still, waiting, not pushing her. He would never try to make her into something she wasn’t. The irony of that nearly made her laugh. She needed to tell him all. But what would he say, when he was so kindly offering to take his brother’s place? Lu didn’t know, and it hurt her head to even wonder. Could she do this?

She was already in for a penny. Lu took a breath and plunged in. “I won’t forget, Eamon.” She forced a smile. “In fact, I’m certain I’ll have to remind you at one time or another when you begin to wonder why you took me on.”

His answering grin was the sun breaking through the clouds. He was incandescent in his satisfaction, and far too appealing. “I shall look forward to those reminders, Bit.”

The promise sounded almost carnal, and a heat flared along her thighs. Oh, but she was definitely swimming in the deep now.

Chapter Six

“You make a lovely bride, my lady.”

Lu stared at the reflection of herself and the maid standing by her, Lu with her wide haunted eyes and the maid with her floppy mobcap and satisfied smile. The long, oval mirror was old and had a hazy quality to it, making them appear like ghosts—her most of all. The white gown, trimmed in pale blue ribbons, hugged her bodice, then floated about her frame like an ephemeral cloud.

The maid Jean had twisted Lu’s heavy hair into a coil high upon the back of her head. Snakelike tendrils of black hung about her face. They’d been curled with a heated iron but even now Lu’s fine hair fought to return to bone straight.

“Thank you, Jean. You did a wonderful job.”

The dress and a dozen others had been ordered in Galway. While the gowns were not in the height of fashion as the ones found in London, Jean had a fair hand with sewing and had reworked each dress to fit Lu’s form to perfection.

And while Lu was grateful, she could not quell the nerves that clutched at her insides and made her pulse hammer hard against her throat.

For two weeks, she’d been left alone with only her thoughts to occupy her. Two weeks in which it took Eamon to get a new special license so that they may wed. Now he had returned and the day was upon them.

She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t marry Eamon. They should wait. Get to know each other. There should be no secrets between them.

Perhaps her distress showed for the young maid began to fiddle with her skirts, arranging the drape into perfect folds. “We’re so glad to see Master Eamon have his chance at happiness.” She stopped, her mouth opening in apparent horror as she looked at Lu in the mirror. “Forgive me, my lady. I didn’t mean… well we know that you had your hopes set on…” Jean snapped her mouth shut with an audible click.

Lu had to smile. It was that or cry. “On Aidan. It’s all right. It isn’t a secret, and I can hardly blame the household for discussing it.” Lord knew that sort of gossip would be too much for anyone to resist.

Jean nodded woodenly. “It’s only, well, Master Eamon is so kind. He always saw to our needs and cared for the estate when Master Aidan went off on those long trips.”

“Trips?”

“Master Aidan was rarely here. He’d often leave for months on end. And Master Eamon would be the one to run things, and doing a fine job of it, no matter what old Master Evernight said about him.”

Aidan never mentioned leaving Evernight Hall for extended periods. Hells bells but had she ever really known Aidan? Lu paused as the rest of Jean’s words sank in.

“What did their father say about Eamon?”

Again Jean winced, her snub nose wrinkling. “Oh, my mam speaks the truth when she says my mouth runs faster than a river going downhill.” She waved a helpless hand when Lu merely stared, waiting. “It isn’t a secret either, and I suppose you’ll hear it anyway. Old Master Evernight hated Eamon. Hated the sight of him, his size, even the sound of his voice. Called him a simpleton, a brute, and a blight upon the Evernight name. All rot. And we all knew as much.”

Lu put a hand to her chest, where a sharp pain pinched her. “Why would he be so cruel to his son?”

“The missus died in childbirth with Eamon. The master never forgave him for it.”

The room before her wavered. Lu’s heart thumped hard and insistent against her ribs. Her mother had died giving birth to her. The guilt and pain never truly left her. But she’d never been blamed. She couldn’t imagine the burden Eamon carried.

“Evernight would say that Eamon bore the mark of the devil, what with his flame red hair and—“Jean cut herself off and shook her head. “Old tales do no good. Don’t you be believing that nonsense, miss. Master Eamon is a good man and will take care of you, I’m certain.”

“I’m certain he will.” Even so, the idea that she was about to join her life with a virtual stranger in an hour’s time left her weakened and queasy.

Jean eyed her with worry. “I ought not have said anything, I know. Only, well, eventually you’ll be going into the village and hearing talk. Don’t pay it no mind.”

“Talk of what?”

“Of Master Eamon.” Jean frowned as she tucked a sprig of orange blossom into Lu’s hair. “Few fools took to believing Master Evernight’s rants, and when the master died unexpectedly, well”—she shrugged—“they believed Eamon killed him as well.”

My father is dead. It was sudden and unforeseen. The silk of Lu’s skirt whispered as she turned to face Jean. “How did Mr. Evernight die?”

Jean blanched. “He burned to death after being caught in a fire. In Eamon’s smithy.”

Chapter Seven

“Luella Jane Moran, wilt thou have this Man to thy wedded Husband, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony…”

The rest of the priest’s words were lost to the buzzing within Lu’s ears. Heat prickled along her skin, over her arms, and up to her cheeks. She feared she might be ill.

Above her head, a sorrowful Jesus upon his cross looked down at her with an expression bordering on reproach. At her back, the eyes of the Evernight household staff—the only people invited to attend the ceremony—bore into her like hot pokers.

Her hand rested in Eamon’s larger one, now as sweaty and shaking as her own as they both promised to love and keep each other for the rest of their days.

How could she make such a vow when she didn’t even know him? Would love come? And could she trust it when Aidan had let her down so completely? Worse still, how could she expect Eamon to love her when she was living a lie?

Eamon’s clear blue eyes, the color of forget-me-nots, gazed into hers. She could stare into them forever and still not grow accustomed to their beauty. The corners of his wonderful eyes creased, and his skin grew paste white. As though he were afraid. Afraid of what?

Suddenly silence was all around her, stretching outward and crushing inward with a weight that felt physical, oppressive. Silence so profound she could hear someone cough, and the minister clearing his throat.

And then she remembered herself. They were in a church. He was waiting for an answer. By the look of him, he rather feared she’d respond in the negative.

The very idea of hurting him, rejecting him the way she’d been rejected, was reprehensible. She’d rather die than do that to someone as kind and quietly proud as Eamon Evernight.

Without another thought, the answer flew from her mouth in an abrupt yet ringing clear, “I will.”

Heaven help her, she’d stood before God and all who witnessed and lied. Worse, she lied to Eamon.

* * *

Married. Eamon had gone and bloody married her. A fool act. It did not matter that it was the one thing he’d wanted in the past four years. He knew it would come to no good. She was in love with a phantom. Eamon knew he ought to be pleased that Lu unknowingly loved him. But it wasn’t really him she’d been yearning for. It was the soul of Eamon wrapped up in Aidan’s gilded perfection.

No lady would want an awkward, ginger-haired giant when compared to Aidan’s lithe golden splendor. Likely she’d be shocked and mortified once she realized just whom she’d been truly corresponding with all these years. But she’d have to know soon. He couldn’t keep up this charade.