Never Seduce a Scot (The Montgomerys and Armstrongs #1)(32)

Graeme sighed and rubbed his forehead. What a complete mess the situation had become. The king’s solution was no solution at all. It was a paltry bandage on a wound that needed sealing with a hot knife.

He ran his hand over his hair and down the back of his neck, turning sideways as he did. To his surprise, Eveline stood a short distance away, worry darkening her eyes. Had she heard the exchange? He glanced after his brother, cursing the fact that their disagreement had been aired so publicly.

Rorie appeared a moment later, lifting an eyebrow in Graeme’s direction. “You and Bowen have a spat?”

Graeme was in no mood for Rorie’s needling. “How much did you overhear? How much did she overhear?”

Rorie shook her head. “We only just arrived in time to see Bowen stalk away to go sulk.”

“Enough with your insults,” Graeme snapped.

Eveline frowned fiercely at him and then stepped in front of Rorie. She folded her arms over her chest and then glared harder at him.

Behind her Rorie laughed. “I do believe she’s protecting me from you, Graeme.”

“As if you bloody well need protecting,” Graeme muttered. “ ’Tis I who need protection from your machinations.”

Rorie stepped around Eveline and then took her hand, tugging her back toward the keep. “Come along, Eveline. We’ll leave the laird to his brooding.”

Graeme watched as Eveline followed behind Rorie and he was struck again by how lovely the lass was. Even when she was glaring him down, she was a sight to behold. All that blond hair shining in the sunlight, her eyes so blue that he could drown in them.

She was so lovely to look at that it hurt. She made his teeth ache over the waste. So young and beautiful and a tragedy had taken so much away from her. If after three years she wasn’t yet normal, the chances were she’d never be normal again.

Running the gauntlet of women inside the keep again was the very last thing Eveline wanted to do. She’d already had to go through them twice since Rorie had begun showing her around the keep, and each time she’d read taunts on their lips. Cruel and insensitive remarks. And Kierstan was there at every turn, staring holes through Eveline, the word “bitch” on her lips as if that were the only word the woman knew how to speak.

It was enough to make Eveline want to bloody that mouth.

In her own home, she’d been content to let people think of her what they may. It was essential to her deception. But here? She had no reason to allow such a thing to go on. It wouldn’t change her circumstances. It certainly hadn’t protected her from marriage to Graeme. And it wasn’t as if she’d ever be forced into marriage with Ian McHugh now that she was wed.

Any man would have been better than Ian. She’d marry the devil rather than to give herself to a man who’d made it clear how she would be treated under his “protection.”

But … There always seemed to be a “but.” It was the problem with creating a web of lies and deceit. It spiraled out of control until it took on a life of its own, and she was helpless to correct it. In too deep. She’d been trapped by her own solution.

What if Graeme was furious that she wasn’t daft? Not so much that he would be angry she wasn’t addled—he’d likely be relieved over that—but he’d been kind and gentle with her. If he didn’t believe her to be “off,” would he still afford her that same respect and understanding? Or would he allow himself to hate her because of who she was? And would he be furious over her deception?

She braced herself as they stepped into the hall. Not as many women were within as had been before. There was no sign of Kierstan, to Eveline’s relief. But the few who were present halted their activities to turn and stare.

This time Eveline made no effort to see what they would say. She forced her gaze on Rorie’s back and followed her into the narrow hallway on the other side of the room. They ducked into a small chamber that was filled with a musty odor.

Ledgers were stacked on a desk and only a small beam of light shone through the furs covering the window. Rorie pushed away the covering, allowing a wash of sunlight in to illuminate the room.

Then she plunked herself in the chair and glanced up at Eveline, looking quite pleased with herself.

Eveline cocked an eyebrow in question and then let her gaze wander around the room. It was tiny, more a cubbyhole than a true room. There was barely room to fit the desk and all the stacks of scrolls and ledgers made the room seem even smaller than it already was.

When she looked back at Rorie, Rorie was talking a steady stream. Eveline frowned and tried to focus so she could follow what the other girl was saying.

“… Da’s room. But I intend it to be mine. Graeme has promised to send for Father Drummond so he can teach me to read and write. Then I can do the accounting for Graeme and he won’t need to worry over the task himself.”

Eveline’s brow furrowed even more. It seemed an odd thing for a woman to want to do, but then she thought of what being able to read and write would mean for her. It would mean a way to communicate, provided the person she wanted to converse with could also read and write. Would such a thing be possible for her to learn, given her inability to hear?

She took another step toward the desk, her stance eager as she stared back at Rorie. Then she pointed to herself and then at the ledgers and scrolls. She cocked her head in clear question.