Never Seduce a Scot

She glanced up in alarm, and he purposely made his grasp gentle, but he shook his head.



“You’re not to act the serving wench with me, Eveline. I’ll be happy to add the wood to the fire. Are you chilled?”



She blushed, shook her head, and pointed to him. Something went soft inside him when he realized that she was tending to his needs. She thought since he was retiring that he’d like the chamber to be warm.



“ ’Twas thoughtful of you,” he said, offering her a smile. “ ’Tis not necessary, though.”



He took the wood from her arms and then tossed it into the fire so the flames roared high once more.



When he moved from the hearth, he saw that she’d perched on the edge of the bed and was staring intently at him. She seemed to want to ask him something. He wasn’t sure how he knew it, but there was a hesitant air about her, almost as if she wanted to communicate with him, but feared doing so.



He settled back onto the bench so he faced her. He was determined not to crowd her, to give her plenty of space, and he wanted to appear as nonthreatening as possible.



“Eveline, is there something you want to discuss?”



She twisted her hands in her lap and then glanced toward the pillows on the bed. Then she looked back to Graeme and pointed at the pillow she’d slept on the night before.



She pointed back to herself, then gestured at his pillow and pointed to him.



He frowned, uncertain of what she was asking. She frowned as well and her expression became pensive. Then she pulled back the furs on the bed and crawled beneath them, taking her place on the far side, her head resting on her pillow. She gazed over at him and then patted the space beside her.



His eyes widened as he finally understood her intent. She wanted him to come to bed with her.



Blowing out his breath, he rose, uncertain as to what he should say or do. He didn’t know what her expectations were, and he damn sure didn’t want to frighten her.



She rolled over, tugging the furs up over her shoulder, and she faced the wall, giving him the same privacy he’d offered to her earlier by turning his back. He smiled, amused by the idea that she’d think him modest enough to worry over undressing in front of her.



Still, it was sweet of her to consider his desires on the matter.



Though he wasn’t sure if this was the right thing to do, he decided it couldn’t hurt to sleep with her once more. Somehow, he thought that if he were to refuse, that she’d not take the rejection well. She was a sweet lass, and he wanted to spare her feelings at all cost.



Deciding it would be better to simply wear his clothing to bed, he carefully pulled back the furs and slid into the bed beside her.



He could feel her warmth even across the empty space between them, and her scent whispered intoxicatingly through his nostrils. Her soap was delicately scented. A flower in spring.



He reached for the candle at his bedside and blew out the flame, dousing the room in semidarkness. Only the light from the fire in the hearth illuminated the room.



Beside him, Eveline rolled back over and before he could wonder what her intentions were, she snuggled up to his side, laying her head over his shoulder.



He lay there completely still as she melted against him, going limp as she relaxed more and more. She emitted a sleepy sounding sigh and burrowed her head deeper into the crook of his arm. In a moment, her soft, even breathing filled his ears, and he realized that she was already asleep.



As content as a kitten on a fur, she was wedged tightly against him, her legs flush against the side of his.



Sleep was a long time coming.



CHAPTER 18



When Eveline rose the next morning, she went to the window and rolled up one corner of the furs and tied them back with a leather strip. Then she tested the chill in the air, allowing the breeze to blow over her face. Already the sun was high enough to bathe the earth in a warm glow and chase away the morning crispness.



In the distance, the river beckoned. There was a spot in the bend, where the water snaked in its path around one side of the keep. Several trees and a natural boundary of rock outcroppings provided privacy, and it would be hard for someone not well above ground level to see her if she was bathing.



The light clean up she’d done the night before hadn’t been enough. She could still feel residual stickiness from the ale. Some had splashed into her hair and it would need a good washing. But she didn’t want to visit the bathhouse, where she’d be forced into the company of other Montgomery women.



If Rorie could be found, perhaps she could be persuaded to accompany Eveline and at least stand guard so that no one else would venture down to that particular spot in the river.



Satisfied with her plan and looking forward to a good swim, she collected a change of clothing, chose one of the warm blankets to dry on, and then dug out the sweet-smelling soaps she’d used to wash up with the night before.



Arms full, she left the chamber. She passed Rorie’s open door in the hall, and then she realized that since Rorie had already left her chamber that Eveline had no idea where to find her. Dread filled her stomach and she paused at the top of the stairs. Then anger tightened her lips. She wasn’t going to allow the Montgomery women the satisfaction of making her so afraid that she feared leaving her chamber.



She marched down the stairs and entered the great hall, head held high like she owned the place. She never paused even though many, as they’d done the day before, stopped in their duties to stare at her.



She donned her haughtiest look, put her nose in the air, and continued through the doorway that led to the small accounting room where Rorie had taken her yesterday.



When she pushed open the door, to her relief, Rorie was sitting at the desk, quill in hand as she studied one of the scrolls.



Rorie looked up, blinking in surprise as Eveline stood there, arms loaded down with clothing and the blanket.



“Are you moving chambers again, Eveline?”



Eveline grinned and shook her head. She put the armload down on the desk, and then she pointed to Rorie and then gestured out the window.



“You want me to jump out the window?”



Eveline’s smile broadened and her shoulders shook in silent laughter. She pointed to herself, then pointed out the window and then put both arms together and extended them, making a swimming motion.



After that, she wrinkled her nose in distaste and gestured toward her skin and hair, pinching her fingers over her nose to get her point across.



“You want to go swimming … so you can bathe?” Rorie asked. “Do you even know how to swim?”



Eveline nodded vigorously.



“Eveline, ’tis chilly, not so much out in the sunlight, but the water will be frigid.”



Eveline shrugged. It wasn’t as if she was unused to such things. The water was just as cold at Armstrong Keep as it was here.



“Graeme won’t like this.”



Eveline frowned fiercely at Rorie and then shook her head. Then she pointed back to Rorie and then back at herself.



Rorie laughed. “Oh, you want me to go with you so Graeme doesn’t find out.”



Eveline shook her head. Then she put her hands on the desk so Rorie could see. She pointed to herself and then placed that finger on the desk and made circling motions as if it were her swimming. Then she pointed to Rorie and then put her on the desk a goodly distance away from Eveline. Once she was sure Rorie understood where she would be positioned, she picked up her hands, pointed to Rorie and then crossed her arms over her chest and put on a forbidding face and puffed up like a warrior.



Rorie threw her head back and laughed harder. “Oh my,” she said when she finally stopped shaking. “You want me to stand guard. That’s amusing. You and I are likely the two smallest lasses in this clan, save those much younger than us, and you want me to frighten away anyone who would come close to where you’re bathing.”



Eveline nodded.



“Very well, then. This might be the most fun I have all day.”



The two women went through the hall and Eveline ignored the suspicious looks cast her way. She didn’t make eye contact so she wouldn’t know of whatever they said to her, and she made certain she took a wide berth around any of the women who stood in her path.



Once outside, Eveline breathed deeply of the fresh air and turned her face upward into the sun so it could warm her skin. Rorie moved ahead of her and led the way to the gate with the watchmen’s towers.



Eveline hadn’t considered that others would have to know of their whereabouts and was mortified over what Rorie would tell them.



She was even further appalled when two men on horseback appeared with the obvious intent of escorting them beyond the gate to the river. She stared in horror at Rorie when the lass returned from her conversation with the guard.



Rorie held her hands up in apology. “ ’Tis nothing to be done for it, Eveline. Graeme has strict instructions regarding such matters. He would never allow two women to leave our gates unescorted. I’ve told the men they must remain at a respectable distance. They won’t see you. But ’tis not possible for us to go down to the river alone.”



Eveline glanced warily up at the two warriors, but they didn’t scowl at her. There was no judgment in their eyes. Nor did they seem to begrudge their duty to escort the wife and sister of the chieftain to the river.



“They want to know if we’d like to ride with them instead of walking,” Rorie said.



Eveline hastily shook her head and took a quick step backward. Panic knotted her throat as she stared up at the gigantic beasts the men sat astride.



Rorie held her hand up. “ ’Tis all right. I’ll tell them to follow behind. Come, let’s go. They’re opening the gate for us.”



*



“This whole thing is driving me daft,” Graeme muttered.



Bowen rubbed his horse’s neck and then patted it affectionately as they slowed to a steady plod.



Graeme had gone out riding with Bowen an hour before. He’d needed to take himself from the keep and clear his head for a while. The situation with Eveline was keeping him awake at night. She was keeping him awake at night.



She acted as though it was the most natural thing in the world to sleep in his bed, to curl into his side, to touch him as a wife would touch her husband.



Not that she’d become too intimate, but it was clear she was curious and moreover, she didn’t appear to be frightened of him at all. He had no idea if she had any idea of the reaction she was inciting in him. He couldn’t think she was cognizant of the normal course of happenings between a wife and a husband. Was she?



At any rate, being so near to her at night, smelling her, touching her … It was more than a man should be asked to bear. If he were another man, he’d have already gone to another woman to find ease. He would have taken a leman. But even before his marriage to Eveline, he’d been mostly celibate, because casually flipping up a woman’s skirts for a quick tumble always left him feeling … cheated.



His brothers jested and called him Father Montgomery. They teased and said that most monks likely had more experience with women than he did, and maybe it was so.



While Graeme wasn’t ignorant of female flesh, he could hardly be considered the expert his brothers apparently were. He knew well what to do with a woman. The problem was, he was having the most perverse fantasies involving a woman he had no business fantasizing about.



“Why are you letting the lass addle you so?” Bowen asked. “If you don’t want her in your chamber, ’tis simple enough to banish her to her own.”



Graeme sighed. “ ’Tis not what I want to do. She seems content to be in my—our—chamber. I think it would hurt her feelings were I to make her go. She has an expectation that we should be … together.”



“Then perhaps you should consummate your marriage,” Bowen said bluntly.



Graeme blew out his breath. He didn’t want to have this conversation with his brother. He didn’t want to have it with anyone. But he needed something. Some advice. Words of wisdom, something to tell him what he was supposed to do without feeling like a complete bastard.



“You’ve seen her, Bowen. Could you bed her if you were the one wed to her?”



Bowen frowned. “ ’Tis a hard question to answer since I’m not married to her. You are.”



“You aren’t a debaucher of innocents. This much I know of you. You’ve a fair face, a man women like to look at, and aye, you have your share only too willing to bed with you, but I cannot see you taking to your bed a woman whom you weren’t completely sure knew precisely what it was that was taking place.”



“Many men would not think twice, Graeme. She is your wife. Your property. ’Tis entirely possible she’d bear you heirs with no problem. She seems a healthy enough lass and she seems sturdy. Whatever is wrong with her was not the result of birth but of an accident much later, so you wouldn’t have to concern yourself with a defect that would be passed on to your children. I think perhaps you worry overmuch.”



“Don’t think I haven’t been tempted,” Graeme said in a grim voice. “And I think ’tis what bothers me the most. I should not be having such thoughts. I should not even be discussing or weighing my options or my guilt with you because I shouldn’t even be entertaining what occupies my mind of late.”