Chapter Nineteen
Evelyn’s lungs wouldn’t allow a full breath. Heart pounding, she lifted her gaze to Grey.
“The ramblings of a feverish tongue,” Grey said, his face grim.
“Quite specific ramblings,” she said and swallowed against the dryness in her throat. She dipped the cloth, ringing it out. Her back straightened so far that she felt her spine might snap. And what of last night? Had his ideas about women just been ramblings to get her naked?
Rebecca tapped the book. “Is there anything else in here that could help him?”
“A word, Evelyn,” Grey said. “Outside.”
Evelyn looked down at the book, ignoring him. But the words grew fuzzy in her vision as hurt and anger warred through her. Could he have loved her so completely, only to trick her heart into softening toward him?
“I will have to study the book,” Evelyn said and kept her eyes on the page as if she could actually decipher the small letters in the shadows.
“Evelyn,” Grey said, and she felt his hand coil around her wrist.
With a twist and a snap, she jerked it away. “I don’t think there need to be any more words between us,” she said, her teeth clenched together, giving her tone a decisively hostile note.
“Bloody hell there do,” he said, his words as strong as the battle stance he’d taken. If fury hadn’t taken root in her belly, Evelyn might have noticed how large and imposing he looked, full of predatory power and muscular strength. Blast! She was noticing.
She turned away. “We will need to tend your brother through the night,” Evelyn said to Rebecca.
Rebecca looked at her, then past her to Grey and then back, her brows rising high. “I’ll keep washing Aiden down while ye two decide if ye’ll be having any more words.”
Hmmph.
“Ye can remain silent,” Grey said. “But I will say the words, either here or outside.”
Damn. The man was threatening to expose her foolishness of falling into his bed, or chair, or floor, all the places they’d come together last night. Evelyn turned on her heel and walked around him toward the door. The cool night air felt like ice water on her flushed face, and she wrapped her shawl tighter around her arms. She strode forward until she came to the first tree, then turned to stand with her back against it.
Grey closed Rebecca’s door and came closer, close enough for her to realize that she probably shouldn’t have backed up to a tree. “I spoke to Aiden about ye when ye first arrived,” Grey said.
She met his gaze in the darkness. The weighty boulder of anger in her middle squashed her earlier guilt over her failure to ask why the castle was for sale. It was something of a relief, and she held onto it. “Certainly, sir. Of course, you would consider strategy when faced with an adversary.”
“Sir? Blast it, Evelyn,” Grey said, and she watched his hand rise to rake through his hair. “When ye’re mad, ye sound like the bloody queen of England.”
“You do not know Queen Catherine very well, then, since she does not say much of anything, but attends herself in quiet misery while her husband plays the lover to his many mistresses. I, on the other hand, have the freedom that many women do not have, to speak my mind.”
“I mean,” he said. “Ye become severely formal when ye’re furious. I imagine your words are like daggers on your tongue right now, ready to fly and slice.” He took a step closer in the dark until she had to look up to meet his gaze. “Not at all like ye sounded last night in my arms.”
Evelyn sucked in a breath. “How dare you bring that up when I’ve just found out that you are so certain of my failure that you and your friend thought to rest and wait to let my school fail all on its own.” By the end of her rant, Evelyn crossed her arms over her chest. Apparently, she had a number of words to share with Grey.
Grey rubbed his jaw. “Would ye rather I’d have thrown ye out of the castle? Barred the door against ye?”
Damn the man. He knew her answer would be no, but the thought of him discussing her destined failure dug into her like a thousand burrs. “Why bother when you are certain of my upcoming failure? Without lifting a finger against me.”
“Would it make ye feel better to know that I asked people not to help ye?”
Throwing aside all of her upbringing, Evelyn growled through her teeth. “And,” she said, her voice a hiss, “You probably want me to believe that last night had nothing to do with trying to get me to lower my guard, to believe that you actually think teaching women is a noble and needed endeavor?” The thought of her foolishness made her nauseous.
He lowered his arms. “Evelyn, ye have created a lot out of a few words said between warriors a fortnight ago, before I knew anything much about ye.”
She stared hard at him, her hurt and embarrassment and the strength of the tree at her back, keeping her straight and strong. She wanted to believe him, but she had little experience with trickery. Her father may have been a brutal man, but he always attacked outright. Grey was completely different, and the fact that she’d fallen so easily and so completely made unshed tears ache in her eyes.
“Did you lie to me last night?” she asked again, her words clipped. “Telling me that you believe women are as intelligent as men?” She swallowed hard as the next words stuck in her throat. “Did you say all that to trick me into your bed?” The question made her cheeks burn when she remembered how Scarlet had suggested that she seduce him into her bed. But she hadn’t. The night around them seemed to hold its breath as she measured time by her pounding heart.
Grey let out his breath as if the world sat heavy on his shoulders. As a chief who’d lost his castle, Evelyn supposed that his world did, but that had little to do with seducing her. You wanted to be seduced. Even if she hadn’t actively sought it, she had been exceedingly willing. But she would never lie to trick a person into bed.
“Lass,” he said. “A lie is a bitter dram that eats away a man’s gut. I avoid them at all cost.”
“I’ve known men to have strong guts, then.” Her arms dropped, and her fingers caught the deep grooves of the bark behind her. Evelyn inhaled the cold night air through her nose. She stared into his eyes, but they sat in shadow, impossible to read.
He did not look away. “I did not lie to ye last night.”
“How do I know if your answer is not just another lie?” she asked on a whisper, wishing she could see him speak in the light. Lies were easier said in darkness, as if someone could hide their heart in the shadows. Evelyn felt like they stood on both ends of a double-ended sword, her point aimed directly over her pounding heart.
“If ye don’t believe my words, believe this,” he said, and pulled her away from the tree, into his arms.
…
Grey’s blood pumped through him with the fervor of battle. But this battle was like nothing he’d ever fought before. He could not wield a sword or mace to cleave the pain he heard in Evelyn’s anger.
So stiff, her softness from the night before had frozen to brittleness. Feel me, he willed, his mouth slanting against her tight lips. His hands stroked down her back as he poured the heat he felt into his kiss. His hands came up to slide into her hair, gently parting her tresses with his fingers.
Like a mountain waterfall in spring, Evelyn’s mouth softened little by little, her lips opening under his kiss. The grip in his gut began to relax as she shed the stiffness in her shoulders, her body leaning slightly toward him, accepting his press against her. His hands moved to cup her cheeks, and he slowly pulled back to lean his forehead against hers. “Feel the truth in my touch, lass. Nothing last night was a lie.”
She remained there in his grasp, their heads gently against each other. “Do you want me to fail, Grey? My school?” She took a step back, and he let his hands slip from her face.
“Nay,” he said and felt in his very soul that it was the truth. “But for the sake of my clan and my pride, lass, I want Finlarig back.”
Grey watched her in the shadows, the glow from Rebecca’s window splashing across her smooth face as she weighed his words. Her hair lay over one shoulder, making her look like a simple Highland lass. Though nothing about Evelyn Worthington was simple, from her heritage and determination to keep his ancestral home to the hold she was beginning to have on him.
“I am sorry for that, Grey,” she said, and he could feel her pull away from him even if she didn’t take a step. “But these people need a school, and Finlarig is a perfect place for it. I would never bar your clan from Finlarig if it is needed for their protection, which is why I haven’t questioned your order to reinforce the defenses around the castle, including a toothy maw for a gate.”
The clever lass had noticed all his preparations for war. She paused as if waiting for his response, but what could he say? The crunch of pebbles along the path saved him, and he turned, drawing his sword. Izzy and her sister hurried out of the woods, breathless.
“I have come,” Cat said in Gaelic. “I was on the bank of Loch Tay seeing to a birth, but the babe is not ready to come.”
Cat frowned at Evelyn and turned to Rebecca’s door, which opened as if Rebecca had been standing there listening. Evelyn stepped out from around Grey and followed Cat and Izzy inside. Grey scratched a path through his hair, settling his large hand to rub at the ache that had started again at the back of his skull. Blast this bloody mess.
Rebecca started talking rapidly as she ushered Cat over to Aiden. “The Sassenach’s book says to use slime from snails on the burns,” Rebecca said, pointing to the medical book that lay open on a table near the bed.
“It speaks of snail slime in this?” Cat asked.
“Aye, somewhere on that page. There are pictures throughout, but I can’t cipher what the letters say,” Rebecca answered.
Evelyn came up beside them, pointing to the paragraph that held the information on healing burns. “It is right here. If you come up to attend school at the castle, I’ll teach you to read all of this.” Her voice sounded rough, and she cleared her throat.
Cat cursed softly in Gaelic, glaring at Evelyn. Evelyn’s hands went to her hips and she stared back. “Is the book wrong? I believe I’ve heard about using snails in healing.”
Grey cleared his throat. “I can go hunt for snails.” All three women and Izzy turned to stare at him as if suddenly remembering that he was there. Izzy moved first, rushing past him toward the door. She tugged on his arm. “I’ll come along soon,” he whispered, and she ran out.
After a silent pause, Evelyn nodded to Cat. “We met at the festival. I am Evelyn. You are Cat? Isabel’s sister?” Evelyn smiled, though it looked forced. “I heard that Queen Elizabeth, herself, had a best friend during her reign named Cat. Is it short for anything?”
“Catriona,” the woman said, though she looked wary. “Ye are the teacher who’s taken my little sister to the castle.”
Evelyn nodded. “I hope that once she is warm, clean, and fed, she will start to speak.”
Cat’s eyes squeezed to slits. “I wish ye luck. I’ve tried to keep her warm, clean, and fed for the last year, and she continues to sneak away from her only living family without a word.”
“So, she did speak at one time?”
“Aye, but not a word since our mother died of a broken heart. I’ve tried everything, so I don’t believe a Sassenach will be able to break her silence.”
“I meant no disrespect,” Evelyn said, the slight happiness leaking out of her tone.
“First,” Grey said, arms crossed over his chest. “Ye can work together to save Aiden. Then ye two can plot how to care for Izzy.” They turned once more to look at him like he didn’t belong. He backed slowly toward the door. “I’ll get snails,” he said.
“Where did ye get this book?” Rebecca asked.
“My brother,” Evelyn said. “He gave it to me for my birthday last.” The brother who’d bought Finlarig? Grey paused, his hand on the door latch.
“And it contains all types of healing ways?” Rebecca asked and shook her head. She glanced to her still unconscious brother. “Now that’s a gift, not a butter churn.”
“Ye needed a new butter churn, Rebecca,” Grey said. “And he’s hardly in a state to be scolded.”
Cat leaned over the book while Evelyn held it. “His fever has grown worse tonight,” Evelyn said, glancing at Aiden.
“Fevers are always worse at night,” Cat said without looking up. “We will get some more feverfew down his throat, and when Grey actually goes out to get the snails…” she said, glancing up at him with a pointed look, “we will set them to creep along his burns.”
Grey nodded, his gaze sliding to Evelyn. She met his, her beautiful face taut with determination. Determination to heal his friend, work with Cat, or take away the seat of his clan?
…
Evelyn watched the door shut behind Grey.
“Good,” Cat said. “Men are not meant for the sick room. They bring pain and death while women bring comfort and life.” Cat’s tone brooked no disobedience. She was definitely used to taking charge of medical situations. Evelyn handed the book to her, and she carried it to the table near the hearth. “Rebecca, brew some of my feverfew for us to get into Aiden.” Cat leaned forward over the open book, her brows lowered, then looked at Evelyn. “What is this?”
Evelyn drew closer. “It shows how a baby sits inside a woman’s womb halfway through her pregnancy.”
“How would the artist know this?” she asked.
Evelyn released a breath. “I am not certain. Perhaps from autopsies of a sadly dead mother-to-be or from imagination after feeling the shape of the babe inside.”
“They haven’t cut a woman open to see this?” Cat asked, her face wary as if they discussed dark magic.
“An alive woman? Heavens no,” Evelyn said. Cat nodded as she continued to peruse the book.
“You are very welcome to attend our school up at the castle.” Evelyn glanced between the women. “Both of you. You can learn to read this book.”
“I likely know everything inside it,” Cat said.
“I have other medical books to read. And an atlas of the world, and books on plants and animals, as well as art and fashion.” Evelyn’s mind flew through possible topics that might interest the two women. Let Grey see just how successful she could be when her library filled with eager-to-learn women, their minds open and bright and full of possibility. He said he thought women were as intelligent as men, and…she believed he did. But she wanted him to see it, understand the need for it. That the need was more important than his pride.
“You could read about the history of our countries or how to…rig a ship or embroider a pillow.” She noticed a stack of pinned cloth in the corner and motioned to it. “I have a book on sewing and how to design a gown. Books have mountains of information, if you can read.”
“I cannot leave Aiden,” Rebecca said, crossing her arms. Cat didn’t reply but went to sit next to her patient, taking the book with her.
The weight of their distrust, and the lack of sleep the previous night, pushed at Evelyn’s shoulders. Exhaustion and the ebb of her anger worked together in the dimness of the room to make her want to curl up with a blanket. She sat in a chair by the hearth. There was such horrendous animosity between the people of Killin and anything remotely English. No matter how badly she wanted to impart knowledge, unless a person was willing, they would never learn. Hatred and bitter resentment closed a mind completely.
“Maybe I could come here to go over the letters,” Evelyn said softly and waited.
Rebecca placed another wet cloth on Aiden’s neck. Only the slight crackle of the flames in the hearth could be heard. “Come around tomorrow, then,” Rebecca said. “And bring the book on sewing.”
Her words strengthened Evelyn, and she inhaled. “And the offer to learn is always open.” Her gaze shifted to Cat, who poured some infused feverfew into a wooden cup. “To both of you and any others who wish it.”
Cat ignored her and continued to page through the book, stopping to lean closer to the pictures.
The door opened, and Grey walked in, Izzy behind him. They both held their hands palm up, filled with little black snails. “Here are some to start,” he said. Cat shot up, waving him over to Aiden.
“The book says to rinse them with clean water first,” Evelyn said. “So the dirt from the forest doesn’t taint his wounds.”
Cat grabbed a bowl, putting some of the cooled boiled water in the bottom. Evelyn helped her pluck each snail from Izzy and Grey, gently swishing them in the water, and then they placed them on the worst of the weeping burns. Once they were all set, they stared. Slowly, the snails emerged and began to move, a glistening trail began behind each one.
“We need more of them,” Cat said.
“I will take Evelyn back to Finlarig and have Kerrick and the night watch help me find more,” Grey said. Izzy was already running out the door, hopefully in search of more snails. “Let’s go.” He handed her the shawl she’d worn. “Ye are tired.”
Evelyn frowned. Why did he continue to single her out? She saw Rebecca’s face tighten, and she shared a glance with Cat. “We are all tired,” Evelyn said. “I will stay here to help.” There was no way she would allow him to drag her away from assisting these women. She stared hard at him, her arms crossed to mimic the warrior stance of which he seemed so fond.
Gray returned her frown but pivoted on his heel, and Evelyn exhaled. He shut the door snugly, and Evelyn turned back to the two women. Rebecca and Cat shared a glance, and then Rebecca looked directly at Evelyn. “Is he bedding ye?”