Never Seduce a Scot

Except that she had taken a sword to the women of his clan and had run them all out of the keep.



He frowned over that matter. The lass had been under duress and she could hardly be blamed for taking a stand in the face of such mean-spirited insults.



He fully intended to take up the matter of all this work she was performing over the morning meal, but she kept up a lively conversation with his brothers, though he had no idea of what the discussion was about, exactly. He wasn’t sure his brothers had any more idea than he did, but they indulged her and responded in kind with a ready smile.



He appreciated their acceptance and their support, and he knew that in time it would bleed over into the rest of the clan. Perhaps Rorie was right and Eveline just needed some time to adjust and time to win over the women.



It seemed to him that she already had the support of his men. They didn’t seem inclined to want her to suffer and thus far he’d heard of no man offering insult to her. The women, however, were another matter, but even then he couldn’t exactly fault them for their loyalty to him and the Montgomery name.



He sighed. ’Twas a difficult matter to be certain. The women had always been steadfast in support of the men of the clan. It was a matter that had always brought Graeme much pride. His own mother had been an important factor in bringing that kind of fierce, unbending loyalty to the women.



Before she’d died giving birth to Rorie, she’d often rallied the women around the men, preached the importance of having strong clan ties that extended to every single man, woman, and child. Graeme’s father had oft chuckled and said it was a foolish man who tread in the path of his wife because she was fiercer than any warrior Robert Montgomery had ever trained.



His mother would have liked Eveline. Graeme didn’t deceive himself by thinking that his mother’s acceptance of Eveline would have been automatic. She would have greeted the marriage with every bit as much disdain as all the other members of the clan had. But given time, she would have been drawn to Eveline’s charm and her resilience. She would have also heartily approved of Eveline being resourceful enough to have avoided marriage with a man who intended to sorely abuse her.



Graeme frowned when Eveline rose after having finished her meal. He’d fully intended to address the matter of her duties.



“A moment please, Eveline,” he said when he was sure he had her attention.



“Oh, I’m sorry, Graeme. I don’t have time right now. There are duties to attend and I’m sure you must be busy with the men. We’ll discuss what it is you have on your mind at the evening meal.”



With that she smiled and kissed him full on the lips in front of the entire hall. Then she patted his cheek and cheerfully went on by. She walked out of the hall at a fast clip, leaving Graeme completely befuddled.



It wasn’t until a moment later that he realized he was still frozen to his chair, the imprint of her mouth still tingling on his lips.



There were snickers and guffaws all around, but he paid them no heed. His gaze was riveted to the soft swing of his wife’s bottom as she exited the hall.



CHAPTER 30



Father Drummond arrived the next day and Eveline was surprised to discover he was a young man, perhaps a few years younger than Teague.



He was cheerful looking, with a ready smile and an easy disposition. In a sea of warriors, he stood out because he was so different from the others. He was paler skinned, fair without a blemish that could be seen. He had blond hair, almost the same shade as Eveline’s, and blue eyes that sparkled when he smiled.



Eveline thought they could be siblings because they resembled each other so closely.



It shamed her that she’d expected an older man, stern and forbidding, a harsh taskmaster who would be ruthless in his teachings.



It was obvious he was a friend to the Montgomery clan, because everyone greeted him warmly. He was treated to a series of slaps on the back that should have had him flat on the ground. Eveline winced every time a different warrior greeted him.



Rorie was practically dancing in delight, so excited was she by the priest’s arrival. She could barely contain herself while she waited for Father Drummond’s attention.



He greeted her warmly in turn, kissing her on either cheek when Graeme finally came around to the reason he’d sent for the father.



Father Drummond laughed when he was told of Rorie’s intent to learn to read and write, but didn’t seem surprised that he was to begin teaching her.



Then Graeme motioned for Eveline to come forward when he saw her standing on the periphery of the crowd assembled to greet Father Drummond.



“Father, this is Eveline, my wife,” Graeme said, making certain he was turned so Eveline could see his mouth.



The priest smiled broadly and reached for both of Eveline’s hands. “My lady, I’ve heard so much about you. You must tell me how you learned to read the words of others on their lips. ’Tis a most ingenious ability.”



Eveline’s cheeks heated under the praise and she smiled shyly back. She was careful to avoid allowing him to take her hands. She didn’t want anyone to know of the blisters and broken skin. The roughness of her hands shamed her.



“It took some time and I’m still not adept at reading the words of everyone. Some people aren’t as clear in their speech as others.”



Graeme touched her gently on the arm. “A little louder, Eveline.”



Embarassed, Eveline repeated herself again, making it a point to enunciate each of the words and speak in a louder volume. Graeme nodded slightly to let her know her tone was more audible this time.



“I’m fascinated by your ability to adapt to a hearing loss,” the priest said. “ ’Tis a subject I very much want to discuss with you at a later time.”



Eveline smiled, her heart warming at the father’s easy acceptance. He didn’t find her odd at all and, in fact, he seemed quite impressed with her ability. She hadn’t realized just how stressful it had been to go so long without a kind word or a genuine smile. It made her heart ache for her own home, where her family loved her no matter if she were daft or completely normal. She was still loved and accepted.



For a moment grief was thick in her throat at the thought of a family she might well never see again. Graeme had been quite forceful on the matter of her kin ever setting foot on his lands, and her own father would not want to allow the Montgomerys on his lands, even if it meant not seeing his only daughter.



She excused herself from the company of her husband and Father Drummond and hurried away before her upset became evident.



She didn’t even flinch when she came face-to-face with Nora, who had more tasks for Eveline to complete. Being busy would take her mind from her current sadness. She missed the hugs of her brothers and the company of her mother when they’d sit sewing in the evenings. She hadn’t so much as picked up a needle since her arrival here, though she knew her mother had packed all her threads.



Ignoring the pain in her hands, she set about beating out the rugs that lined the hallways and corridors of the keep. She also made certain that the chamber the father would occupy was clean and aired out and a fresh fire lit to rid the room of its chill.



Graeme would be able to find no fault with her abilities to run the keep. She was ensuring their guest was taken care of and she’d already spoken to Mary about a special meal to welcome the priest.



But sadness plagued her the rest of the day and no matter how busy she kept herself, she wasn’t able to shake the ache in her heart. With every skeptical glance thrown her way, she felt even more woefully inadequate and out of place.



By the time the call for the evening meal was made, Eveline was near to dropping. She was so tired that she could barely manage to trudge the distance to the hall. And she truly needed to climb the stairs to her chamber so she could freshen her appearance. Father Drummond would occupy a place of honor at Graeme’s table this night and she was bedraggled, sweaty, and dirty.



With a groan, she mounted the steps and forced her way the remaining distance to her chamber.



Once there, she took special care to arrange her hair away from her face and to brush all the tangles from the tresses. She didn’t want to wear the underdress and tunic she’d worn so recently, so she chose another of the dresses her mother had sewn.



It was a beautiful dark blue, similar to the dress she’d worn for her wedding, but not quite as grand. It was more suitable for an honored guest than the gown she’d worn for her marriage to Graeme.



There was a white overtunic, like the one she’d worn with the green underdress, only this one had an embroidered hem all the way around and the cuffs of the sleeve were also embroidered with a rich blue thread to match the underdress.



The sleeves covered much of her hands, a fact she was grateful for, because they were red and angry looking from the blisters and the places where she’d torn and scraped the skin. She looked at them with a grimace, thinking how horrified her mother would be over their appearance. They were not the hands of a gently bred lady.



Being a gently bred lady did nothing to gain her acceptance by Graeme’s clan. Clearly they valued hard work over grace and elegance, and Eveline couldn’t entirely blame them. A mistress of the keep who could work side by side with the other women was far preferable to a lady who could stitch a straight seam.



When she was satisfied that no fault could be found with her appearance, she braved the stairs again, groaning inwardly with every step down. Forcing a smile to her lips, she turned the corner to enter the hall and focused on the table where Graeme sat with his brothers.



Graeme looked her way and she could swear she saw relief and then pleasure in his eyes. It warmed her heart and alleviated some of the aching sadness that had been with her much of the day.



Her step became lighter and she was able to forget the pain and stiffness that accompanied her every movement.



As she drew near, Graeme rose and offered his hand to assist her onto the dais. Instead of taking his hand, she placed her fingertips on his arm, allowing him to aid her. She smiled at Bowen and Teague and then at Rorie, who beamed from ear to ear as she sat across from the priest. Then she gave another welcoming smile to Father Drummond and bade him welcome to their table.



Graeme surprised her by brushing a kiss over her forehead as he settled her down beside him. He started to take her hand, but she slipped it away, reaching for her goblet as if she hadn’t noticed his gesture.



Rorie was animated through the meal, keeping up a lively stream of chatter that Eveline had to concentrate hard on to understand. She was sure she missed some of what was said, because she kept looking from person to person to see who responded and said what.



By the time most of the food had been consumed, Eveline was exhausted and her head ached from trying to keep up with the pace of the conversation.



All she wanted to do was go to bed and remain there for an entire sennight.



She sighed in relief when the meal was finished and Graeme suggested that the men retire to the fire at the other end of the hall to enjoy some of the clan’s “finer” ale reserved for special occasions.



She was positively gleeful over the idea of being able to go up to bed until Graeme turned and extended his hand as the others stood. Confused and thinking he only meant to assist her down, she took his arm and allowed him to lead her away from the table.



When they reached the other end of the room, she smiled at the others and then tried to slip her hand from Graeme’s arm so she could take her leave, but he tugged her back and she had to keep from wincing when his fingers pressed into one of the sore areas on her palm. Thankfully he didn’t notice her grimace or the abrasions.



“Join us, Eveline,” Graeme said. “I’d enjoy your company this eve.”



Eveline blinked in surprise, but he took a seat in one of the grander chairs reserved for resting in front of the fire and then to her further befuddlement, he pulled her down to sit on his lap instead of offering her one of the nearby chairs.



But then by the time his brothers and Father Drummond took their seats and Rorie perched on another and a few of Graeme’s senior men took their seats, all the chairs were filled.



She felt entirely too conspicuous sitting across Graeme’s lap, even though there was nothing untoward or too intimate about his actions.



He rested his arm around her waist, holding her against his chest as the others conversed, drank ale, and laughed over jests and recounted tales of battle and training.



Graeme mostly remained quiet, though every once in a while, she could feel vibrations rumble from his chest and then the answering vibrations in her ears as his voice soothed her senses.



She loved listening to him, even if his words weren’t discernible sounds.



Thankfully none of the conversation was directed at her, because she was simply too tired to keep up with what every person was saying. After a while, she relaxed fully into Graeme’s embrace and enjoyed being held against his much larger body.



It was comfort at a time when she needed comforting the most. She was tired, heartsick, and lonely for her family. She was at a point when she feared never fitting in with her new clan, nor was she even sure she wanted to.