Never Seduce a Scot (The Montgomerys and Armstrongs #1)(23)

But the Montgomery stronghold was nestled between two mountains. A river ran alongside and looped around to meander through the back of their lands only to disappear in the distance, no doubt emptying into a loch.

The earth was green and lush, bursting with spring. Flowers dotted the hillsides. A herd of sheep grazed in the distance. Horses were also out to graze on the opposite side. Three rows of cottages were perched at the base of a steep incline outside the walls of the keep. They staggered upward, eight in each row.

As her gaze scanned the massive holding, she saw more cottages, a few alongside the river where it paralleled the keep. Beyond that and up the opposing hill were more cottages, more haphazardly arranged and not as ordered as the first ones she’d viewed.

The keep itself was well built. She could see no flaws, no sign of disrepair. A stone wall surrounded the keep with a gate in front that boasted two guard towers. The gate was made of immense logs, and Eveline imagined it took the efforts of several men for it to swing open and shut.

Beyond the gate, the keep shot upward, almost a perfect square, but tall. Eveline calculated it would take at least four flights of stairs to reach the top.

It was a holding built with defense in mind. It would take a massive army to infiltrate and beat down Montgomery forces to gain entry into the keep. The only force of such strength, aside from the king’s own, was her own clan.

And now they’d been forced to sign a truce neither wanted, and Eveline wondered, feeling guilty for her disloyalty, if either side would honor the agreement in the long term.

The cart rattled its way down the incline, and as they drew near to the keep, the great wooden gate slowly began to open.

Graeme rode ahead, followed closely by his brothers. The cart bearing her was next, and then the Montgomery warriors fell in behind her as they rode into the spacious courtyard.

The cart ground to a halt. Ahead of her, Graeme dismounted, and then he came to help her down. She stumbled slightly as she tried to gain her footing. After sitting in the cart for so long, her legs were as shaky as a newborn colt’s.

Gradually, she became aware of all the stares directed at her. Everywhere she turned, there was someone, lots of someones, avidly gazing at her.

Most weren’t friendly looks. Indeed, the majority of them were openly hostile. Lips curled. Eyes flashed. Grimaces. Expressions of distaste.

She paused on one person long enough to see the words “Armstrong bitch” on her lips. Eveline’s gaze narrowed and she quickly committed the woman’s face to memory. She would not forget such a slight.

Graeme was talking to the assembled group of Montgomery clansmen. He had his arm loosely over her shoulders. She’d realized too late that he was addressing his clan and turned too late to know what it was he said.

Whatever it was, it didn’t sit well with most, because the expressions grew even more disgruntled, and she caught several more disparaging remarks as they formed on the lips of the people gathered.

She’d never felt so alone and terrified in her life. This wasn’t just a hostile welcome. It was no welcome at all. Her skin prickled under such close scrutiny. She felt picked apart, judged and deemed unworthy.

Automatically her chin went up in silent rebellion. She wouldn’t allow these people to make her feel inferior nor would they frighten her. She was a laird’s daughter. One of the mightiest in the whole of Scotland. She would be cowed by no Montgomery. She wouldn’t shame the Armstrongs by appearing weak before this clan.

Graeme led her toward the entrance to the keep. They walked by several of the women of the clan, and not one of them offered so much as a smile in Eveline’s direction.

Eveline kept her gaze trained forward, not wanting to see what it was they had to say. She’d already seen quite enough to know her presence was reviled.

The hall was bigger than the Armstrong’s great hall. The room was sprawling, with two great stone fireplaces, one on either end. There was a raised dais with a table that could easily seat a dozen people. Scattered over the rest of the room were several other tables, signaling that many ate within the keep.

In front of the other fireplace was more of a sitting area. There were several chairs and a few rests for propping up one’s feet. It was clearly a place of leisure.

This was where Graeme led her. He plunked her down into one of the softer chairs that was to the side of the burning fire. She studied him closely, fearful of losing any directive he may give her.

“Would you like food and drink?”

She was hungry, but the idea of putting anything into her stomach was enough to make her insides twist in protest. She was too nervous to eat.

“If you’ll wait here but a moment, I’ll return and show you to your chambers. I’ll arrange to have all your belongings brought up and unpacked for you.”

She didn’t even have time to nod her understanding before he turned away and disappeared from the hall.

She sat, unmoving, afraid to breathe lest she call more attention to herself. Montgomerys filtered in and out of the hall, obviously with the intent of seeing the new addition to the clan.

Not one friendly face did she find. Nothing to reassure her or offer her comfort. The sorrow of leaving her home and clan was never more keenly felt than in this moment.

She was truly alone and locked in a silent world where people thought her nothing more than the mad daughter of their most hated foe.

A moment later, Graeme returned, and he came to where she sat and offered his hand down to her. Puzzled, she slid her fingers into his and allowed him to assist her to her feet.