Never Seduce a Scot (The Montgomerys and Armstrongs #1)(16)

Tavis nodded grimly. “Aye, it is. I’ve never seen her act thusly. She is usually quite shy and content to be left alone, and moreover, ’tis something I prefer. Not all in our clan are as accepting as others when it comes to her affliction. I would not have her ridiculed or mocked or even potentially harmed by those who view her as a devil’s instrument.”

Graeme’s eyebrow raised. “Devil’s instrument?”

“You know well what people think when faced with someone like Eveline. You’re a fool if you think it won’t happen in your clan. My daughter has two things against her going in. One, she’s an Armstrong and will be reviled for nothing more than her parentage. Two, she’ll be considered daft, touched, addled, and many other less kind words will be attributed to her. ’Tis a dangerous situation that you will have to monitor closely. If the wrong people have it in their head that she’s Satan’s instrument, they could well kill her.”

“Is she all of those things? Daft? Touched?” Graeme asked in an even voice.

“I do not know,” Tavis said wearily. “There are days when I think she understands perfectly what goes on around her. She’ll respond when we talk to her. She seems to grasp certain situations. And then other days, it’s as if the rest of us don’t exist and she’s in her own realm.”

“And she never speaks?”

Tavis shook his head. “Not since the accident and resulting fever. I know not why. I don’t know if she had fever of the brain and it damaged her in some way. Or if she was so deeply affected by the event that she cannot even speak of it.”

He leaned forward, his expression serious. “She cannot sit a horse. It’s important you not make her try.”

Graeme frowned. “Cannot sit a horse? Why has she been neglected so? I don’t have a litter to carry her back to my keep and I’m damn sure not going to make her walk.”

“It’s not that she’s been neglected. Indeed, she was an expert horseman. Never saw anything quite like it. From an early age, she just commanded the attention of horses. They gravitated toward her. Liked her. She could make them do anything. And ride like the wind.

“She used to scare me spitless. She’d swing up on a horse bareback in her bare feet, her hair going in all directions, and she’d ride hell-bent for leather across the meadow, back and forth. I was always convinced she was going to kill herself, but she enjoyed it so much that I couldn’t bear to make her stop.”

Tavis sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “And then it happened. Just as I feared. She took a bad fall. Horse was spooked, pitched her right off his back and she fell into a deep ravine. It was three days before we found her, and by then she was gravely ill. She had an injury to her head and a fever that lasted an entire fortnight. After that she was never the same and she’s deathly afraid of horses. You needed to know so that you never try to make her mount.”

“How the hell am I supposed to get her back to my keep?” Graeme demanded.

“I’ll provide a cart for her to ride in,” Tavis said.

Graeme let out a disgruntled push of air. His bride was becoming more of a pain in his arse all the time. It was a marriage to prevent further bloodshed, but to him it felt like a death sentence.

“I don’t know that she can ever make you a proper wife,” Tavis said in a low voice that sounded precariously close to pleading. “Don’t force the issue. I wouldn’t have her hurt or ill-treated for anything in the world. She is dear to all of us. You are receiving a gift, Laird. Whether you choose to believe so or not, you are receiving something more precious than gold.”

CHAPTER 8

Graeme climbed the steps to the chamber he’d been assigned. As the apparent guest of honor, he’d been afforded a room in the upper wing while his brothers had been consigned to the common sleeping hall where many of the warriors slept on cots lining the walls.

Since his room was next to the Earl of Dunbar’s, he wondered if the earl had been the one to insist this respect be given Graeme. Armstrong would have likely wanted them all to camp outside the walls of the keep with the rest of his men. Or better yet, never have set foot on Armstrong land to begin with.

Graeme pushed open his door, only wanting to bed down for the night. Tomorrow he’d wed and then leave for home to face the inevitability of his future. Or lack thereof. He wasn’t one to focus on the negative, but for the first time he felt a certain bleakness, because any dream he had of heirs and passing his legacy on to his own bloodline was gone. As was any thought of revenge against the clan who’d murdered his da.

When he stepped inside, he was surprised to see candles already burning and a fire laid in the hearth. But he was even more surprised to see Eveline perched on the edge of his bed, her expression guarded as she stared up at him.

She wore the same dress she’d had on earlier in the day. While Lady Armstrong had dressed for the occasion to greet her guests—albeit unwanted ones—Eveline had first greeted him in a simple frock that was similar to a work dress worn by the other women in the clan. And perhaps because it was so simple, it had only drawn a more stark comparison between Eveline’s beauty and the plainness of her apparel.

But then Graeme wasn’t certain there was a single item she could wear that would diminish what was clearly a beautiful lass.

Eveline looked to be worried that he would be angry over the intrusion. And he should be. It was a breech of his privacy, but it was also improper for her to be alone with him in his chamber on the eve of their wedding. Her family would be outraged if they knew of her whereabouts, and it could call into question his own honor that he so jealously guarded.