Never Seduce a Scot (The Montgomerys and Armstrongs #1)(24)

He was saying something, but he turned away and started guiding her across the room. It frustrated her to not be able to see what it was he said.

She tried to quicken her step so she could move ahead of him just enough that she could glance back, but she wasn’t able to keep pace with him.

He held out his arm when they reached the stairs, gesturing for her to go ahead of him. Reluctantly, she climbed the steps, and when they reached the landing of the next level, he guided her out instead of having her continue up the stairs.

There were several chambers down the hallway. Toward the end, he stopped, opened a door, and gestured her in.

It was a small chamber, but not tiny. There were two windows, which told her that it was a corner room because there was one on either side. Heavy furs were pulled away from one while they covered the other, secured by leather ties to prevent the wind from flapping the ends.

Sunlight poured into the room, illuminating it without need for the candles that lit the hallway. There was a bed against the far wall, a washbasin, and a chair by the small fireplace. Other than that, the room wasn’t furnished at all. It was apparent no one stayed here, except perhaps in the capacity of a guest.

She turned to Graeme, confused as to why he would show her into this chamber. He gestured around and then said, “I’ll have your trunks brought up and provide someone to help you unpack and settle in. Perhaps it’s best if you rest before this evening’s meal.”

She stared back in surprise, then glanced once more at the room where they stood. This was to be her room? She frowned, not knowing what to make of this. Graeme was her husband. He should share his chamber with her. It was the way of things. Her father and mother had shared a chamber as far back as Eveline could remember. Indeed, her father would object most strongly to his wife sleeping anywhere else.

Was she to be relegated to a position of guest? An unwanted guest, from the appearance of things.

Graeme backed from the room, leaving her alone to frown as she pondered the situation. Nay, this would not do. It would not do at all.

A wife’s place was with her husband. Not shoved into a guest room along with all her belongings. There must be a way to remedy this situation at once.

CHAPTER 12

Graeme went in search of Rorie. He hadn’t seen her in the courtyard, and it wasn’t like her not to greet him and their brothers after an absence.

He found her, predictably, in the antechamber he used as his accounting room. Where he kept correspondences, returned them, kept ledgers and records of clan business as well as the births and deaths of all Montgomerys under his care.

His da had been meticulous about such things and had insisted that Graeme learn to read and write at a young age. At a time when most boys were being fostered and were learning the art of war, Graeme had been putting in long hours by candlelight memorizing the alphabet and reading accounts kept by his father.

Robert Montgomery had insisted that the mind first had to be shaped and molded in order to be a good warrior and adept physically and that an intelligent warrior would win out over an ignorant one every time.

Graeme wasn’t certain he agreed, but then he hadn’t any choice in the matter.

Rorie, on the other hand, was determined to learn to read and write and pored over every piece of writing she could lay hands to in an effort to teach herself.

She’d always been an odd little thing, but she was pure Montgomery, and Graeme loved her dearly.

“Still determined to take over as laird one day?” Graeme drawled from the door.

Rorie jerked her head up guiltily and hastily covered the scroll she’d been staring at with such concentration.

“Why weren’t you out to greet us?” he asked in a quieter voice.

She sighed. “There seemed little point. You brought home the wee daft Armstrong girl. It’s hardly a reason to celebrate, is it?”

Graeme frowned. “When did you become so uncharitable, Rorie? It isn’t like you to cast judgment before you’ve even met someone.”

Rorie gave him a look that suggested he was an idiot. “She’s an Armstrong, Graeme. What else is there to know? And before you lecture me on being judgmental, do I need to remind you that since birth we’ve been taught to hate the Armstrong name and anyone who bears it?”

He gave a long-suffering sigh. “She isn’t just any Armstrong, Rorie. She’s my wife and she’s now a Montgomery. I expect you to accord her respect. I’d like … I’d like you to seek her out and be nice to her. She’s up in her chamber now, likely frightened and alone. Her reception was not kindly. I don’t know how much she understood, but even a complete simpleton would realize how hostile the clan was toward her. I need you for this.”

Rorie’s expression became thoughtful. “How daft is she, Graeme? Really. Were the rumors exaggerated?”

He ran a hand through his hair and blew out his breath. “I don’t know. I have much to learn of her. At times she seems … distant. Unaware. But I was able to communicate with her. She has a fascination with me talking to her. Which is apparently uncommon, because her mother was flabbergasted over Eveline’s response to me. I have to think that all is not as it seems, but as of yet, I’ve not had time to determine the whole of it.”

Rorie crossed her arms over her chest and then sent Graeme a look he’d long ago associated with absolute scheming. She may not like blood or violence, but she had a mind worthy of any bloodthirsty warrior. She always went for the kill, even if it was figurative. “How much is my niceness worth to you?”