Never Seduce a Scot: The Montgomerys and Armstrongs (8 page)

And yet he couldn’t bring himself to show any temper toward the lass.

Unsure of what he should do, he continued into the room, closing the door behind him. After a moment he turned to look at her, and he could see a hint of color rise in her cheeks, reflected in the soft candlelight.

She looked angelic. Impossibly beautiful. He’d never seen anything her equal. It wasn’t that she was the most beautifully fashioned woman he’d ever seen, but she was easily the most …

He frowned. The most what?

There was something quite irresistible about her and he couldn’t even put his finger on it. She lacked the practiced graces of older, more mature women. But neither did she look like a maiden too young for a man to even look at.

She was … just right.

God’s teeth, was he lusting over his bride? Self-loathing filled him. He should be treating her gently and kindly. It was obvious there was something off about the lass, even if he didn’t know the extent, and here he was looking at her as a prospective wife with all the benefits entailed.

No matter that she was an Armstrong. It was clear she couldn’t be punished for or defined by the actions of her family when it was likely she was unaware of most things around her.

As much as he didn’t want to label any Armstrong a victim, he had enough intelligence to know she didn’t deserve this union any more than he deserved to be forced into it.

She would be taken from her home—the only safe haven she had. From everyone who protected and loved her—and it was obvious she was well loved by her family. She would be thrust into a hostile environment. Could any Armstrong ever find a place in the Montgomery clan? It was going to be a difficult matter, no matter how it was handled, and it was she who stood to lose the most, while all he gained was an unwanted wife and grudging truce with the Armstrongs.

As if she had grown impatient with him just standing and staring at her, she stood with a slight frown and then crossed the room to stand just before him. She reached for his face and his automatic reaction was to flinch away.

Hurt shadowed her eyes and she snatched her hand back, a frown turning her lips down.

Aggrieved that he’d somehow hurt her, he carefully reached down, took her hand and then raised it back to his chin where she’d nearly touched him before. He had no idea of her intention, but he would see how it played out.

She smiled and again he was struck by how such a smile transformed her entire face into a ray of sunshine. Her fingers slid delicately over his rough jaw and to his lips. His eyes widened when she touched his mouth and then pushed up and down at his lips.

When he didn’t immediately react, she frowned and pushed more forcefully. Then she removed her fingers and pressed her finger and thumb into his cheeks, squeezing so his lips puckered outward.

Frowning harder, she stared up at him as if to say,
Do you not understand?
It seemed clear the lass wanted him to speak.

He nearly laughed. Everyone treated her as somewhat of a simpleton, but here she was acting as if he were the dolt with no sense.

She wanted him to speak. Of what, he had no idea, but it was clear she wanted him to say something.

“You shouldn’t be here, Eveline,” he said kindly. “It’s not proper and if your father should find out, he’d almost certainly declare war, which would most assuredly displease our king.”

Her brow furrowed deeper and she gave him a fierce glare. Then she shook her head and raised her hands as if to say,
Who is to know?

She put her finger back to his lips, but by now he knew what it was she wanted. With a sigh, he led her to a chair by the fire and motioned for her to sit. He dragged the bench by the window across the floor so he could sit near her.

They were side by side and before he could think of anything further to say, she stood and turned her chair, positioning it so she was facing him. Then she settled back down and leaned forward, her eyes focused intently on him.

He’d never felt so unsettled. His tongue felt tied and he had no idea what to say to the lass. It would be so
much easier if she spoke, because then she could ask questions. Aye, he could answer questions easily enough, but to just come up with a topic?

He wasn’t someone who spoke overly much and was never one for casual conversations. He was more to the point. His brothers often teasingly said that dragging more than a few words from him was like trying to push a rope through the eye of a needle.

So … he’d talk about marriage. Since the wedding would take place tomorrow, he could only assume that was why she was here in his chamber. Perhaps to allay her fears? Find out if he was some horrible abuser of women? Who knew?

He cleared his throat, hating how unsure of this entire situation he was. Give him a sword and someone to kill. He could handle that nicely. But a woman sitting in front of him, staring avidly while waiting for him to speak? Not exactly the subject of any training he and his men had ever endured.

“You understand that tomorrow we will wed,” he began gruffly.

She smiled and nodded.

Smiling was good. At least she hadn’t run from his chamber like the hounds of hell were nipping at her heals. But that still didn’t tell him she fully understood the ramifications of their marriage.

“Do you also understand that as soon as the ceremony has been completed, we will leave your … this keep … and travel back to Montgomery lands?”

Her expression sobered, but she nodded again.

“ ’Tis the truth I have no idea what to do with you, Eveline Armstrong,” he admitted. “I had no plans for a wife yet. And when I did, I would of course have chosen a lass from my own clan. Someone who was well accustomed to life as a Montgomery and someone well versed in the running of a keep. My men …”

He broke off for a moment because she was cocking her head back and forth all the while her gaze was riveted … on his mouth. But there was such an expression of—pleasure?—on her face that it took him aback.

He cleared his throat again to continue, choosing to ignore her odd behavior. “My men and I train daily. I have other matters to attend to as chieftain. My clansmen come to me to settle disputes, to air grievances, to ask for guidance.”

Her look turned to one of impatience and she shook her head. She made a motion, a wide circling motion as if to encompass the entire keep and then gave him another impatient look as if to remind him that she was a chieftain’s daughter and well knew the duties of the laird.

Graeme sighed. So she didn’t want a rundown of his duties as laird. Not that he blamed her. It wasn’t scintillating conversation at best, but then he didn’t
like
lengthy conversations.

“What would
you
like to discuss, Eveline?”

Which sounded ridiculous, given that she couldn’t speak, but it was obvious she had no liking for the topics he’d broached.

Her smile returned and she leaned forward and directed one finger at him and then pressed it into his shoulder.

“Me?” he asked incredulously. “You want to talk about
me
?”

He couldn’t quite keep the horror from his tone or expression. What was he supposed to say? He felt as though he were on trial. Set before the king and court and a bevy of accusers, forced to give an accounting of himself before God.

How could she make him feel so bloody insecure?

She smiled hugely then, her entire face lighting up, and she nodded vigorously.

God’s teeth, he needed to have the lass gone from his bedchamber. This was madness. All of it.

But he couldn’t look at the sparkle in her eyes or her imploring gaze and keep the hardness that usually surrounded his heart and mind. What man in all of Scotland could sit before this beguiling beauty and possibly tell her no?

“What do you want to know?” he asked gruffly. Then realizing how stupid it was to question a woman who had no way of responding, he shook his head. “Never mind that. It was senseless on my part.”

Still, she stared at him expectantly, waiting for what he’d volunteer. And he had no idea what to tell her about himself. He didn’t sit around evaluating himself, his choices or his life. He just … was. He was chieftain to his people and with that came great responsibility. He didn’t have time to immerse himself in his thoughts or to ponder what manner of man he was.

Perhaps all she needed was reassuring. It occurred to Graeme that he’d assured her father and even her mother that his intentions toward Eveline were not dishonorable, but Eveline herself hadn’t been made aware of those same vows.

Aye, that was probably what she wanted to hear and it was something he could comfortably discuss.

“Eveline,” he began carefully, wanting to make sure he had her full attention. But he needn’t have worried because she was still staring avidly at his face. Indeed, her gaze had never left him. He’d never felt so scrutinized. “I want you to know that I do not hold you accountable for the sins of your family.”

She frowned—nay, she
scowled
—her face drawing into a ferocious expression that amused him for its cuteness.

“I understand you are innocent of wrongdoing and that you are a victim in this. I will treat you kindly and
with the respect due your position as a chieftain’s daughter and now a chieftain’s wife. I’ll not ever punish the daughter for the sins of the father.”

She pushed up from the chair, and to his utter shock, she balled her fist and punched him right in the nose.

He reeled back, his hand going automatically to the place she’d struck. Not that she’d hit him hard enough to do any damage or cause any real pain. He was more flabbergasted by her reaction than anything.

She stomped past him, her feet making light sounds despite the exaggerated fashion in which she was trying to display her anger.

She threw open his door and he was on his feet immediately, knowing that if she succeeded in slamming it—which she seemed very intent on doing—that it would wake the others in adjacent chambers and then everyone would be in the hall to see her stomping out of his room.

And then? All hell would break loose.

He caught it just as she released it and swept into the hall. Then he stood there a long moment, breathing heavy breaths as he watched her disappear down the dimly lit corridor.

Daft or off she may be, but she clearly didn’t like for her family to be disparaged in any manner. He smiled ruefully. He admired loyalty. He demanded it. He could hardly respect the lass if she’d sat there stoically and accepted anything ill he said of her clan.

He quietly closed the door and then turned to start undressing for bed. Then he laughed.

The lass had been a complete and utter surprise and he still had no idea what on earth to make of her.

The only thing he could be assured of was that quite possibly he’d never be sure of her or what each day would bring from this day forward.

C
HAPTER
9

Graeme’s first glimpse of his bride was confusing for him. It was as if the woman he’d spent a brief period of time with the night before was someone completely different than this woman standing in the hall where they were to be married.

He paused at the doorway, watching the goings-on, but his concentration was focused on Eveline.

She was adorned in a gown finer than anything he’d seen even at court. Rich blue, intricately embroidered, and the material fell in precise layers from her waist. The top, while modest, drew attention to the lushness of her feminine curves—curves that he still felt guilt for even noticing.

Her blond hair, a beautiful splash of sunshine on a spring day in the highlands, was partially upswept, gathered in a mass atop her head, but the rest fell down to her waist in silken waves. She was beautiful, but there was something missing.

Her spark. The one he’d witnessed the night before.

She looked … like she was anywhere but where she was. She had a distant, vacant expression on her face, and nothing that went on around her seemed to register.

She looked tired and defeated and … scared.

That part he hated. It angered him and he didn’t even know why. The very last thing he wanted was for her to be afraid. It riled protective instincts that he damn sure shouldn’t have for anyone named Armstrong. But there it was. He was ready to stomp over and lay siege to whatever was causing her current mood.

He stood a little longer, watching as the activity increased in preparation for the wedding. Eveline stood quietly next to her mother, her hands gripped in front of her. As he studied her further, he realized that it wasn’t fear that had seized her. She was just … unaware.

That brought a frown to his face. Was she bespelled by good and bad days? Did she gain and lose lucidity in random pattern? Was she afflicted by an illness of the mind that caused drastic changes in behavior?

It could certainly explain the oddness of her behavior with him yesterday.

Unease settled over him as once more it was brought home that this match was in essence a death sentence. Instead of being a husband, he’d be assigned the role of a caretaker. He would protect her and make sure she was taken care of, but she would never be a wife to him.