Never Seduce a Scot (The Montgomerys and Armstrongs #1)(37)

She glanced up in alarm, and he purposely made his grasp gentle, but he shook his head.

“You’re not to act the serving wench with me, Eveline. I’ll be happy to add the wood to the fire. Are you chilled?”

She blushed, shook her head, and pointed to him. Something went soft inside him when he realized that she was tending to his needs. She thought since he was retiring that he’d like the chamber to be warm.

“ ’Twas thoughtful of you,” he said, offering her a smile. “ ’Tis not necessary, though.”

He took the wood from her arms and then tossed it into the fire so the flames roared high once more.

When he moved from the hearth, he saw that she’d perched on the edge of the bed and was staring intently at him. She seemed to want to ask him something. He wasn’t sure how he knew it, but there was a hesitant air about her, almost as if she wanted to communicate with him, but feared doing so.

He settled back onto the bench so he faced her. He was determined not to crowd her, to give her plenty of space, and he wanted to appear as nonthreatening as possible.

“Eveline, is there something you want to discuss?”

She twisted her hands in her lap and then glanced toward the pillows on the bed. Then she looked back to Graeme and pointed at the pillow she’d slept on the night before.

She pointed back to herself, then gestured at his pillow and pointed to him.

He frowned, uncertain of what she was asking. She frowned as well and her expression became pensive. Then she pulled back the furs on the bed and crawled beneath them, taking her place on the far side, her head resting on her pillow. She gazed over at him and then patted the space beside her.

His eyes widened as he finally understood her intent. She wanted him to come to bed with her.

Blowing out his breath, he rose, uncertain as to what he should say or do. He didn’t know what her expectations were, and he damn sure didn’t want to frighten her.

She rolled over, tugging the furs up over her shoulder, and she faced the wall, giving him the same privacy he’d offered to her earlier by turning his back. He smiled, amused by the idea that she’d think him modest enough to worry over undressing in front of her.

Still, it was sweet of her to consider his desires on the matter.

Though he wasn’t sure if this was the right thing to do, he decided it couldn’t hurt to sleep with her once more. Somehow, he thought that if he were to refuse, that she’d not take the rejection well. She was a sweet lass, and he wanted to spare her feelings at all cost.

Deciding it would be better to simply wear his clothing to bed, he carefully pulled back the furs and slid into the bed beside her.

He could feel her warmth even across the empty space between them, and her scent whispered intoxicatingly through his nostrils. Her soap was delicately scented. A flower in spring.

He reached for the candle at his bedside and blew out the flame, dousing the room in semidarkness. Only the light from the fire in the hearth illuminated the room.

Beside him, Eveline rolled back over and before he could wonder what her intentions were, she snuggled up to his side, laying her head over his shoulder.

He lay there completely still as she melted against him, going limp as she relaxed more and more. She emitted a sleepy sounding sigh and burrowed her head deeper into the crook of his arm. In a moment, her soft, even breathing filled his ears, and he realized that she was already asleep.

As content as a kitten on a fur, she was wedged tightly against him, her legs flush against the side of his.

Sleep was a long time coming.

CHAPTER 18

When Eveline rose the next morning, she went to the window and rolled up one corner of the furs and tied them back with a leather strip. Then she tested the chill in the air, allowing the breeze to blow over her face. Already the sun was high enough to bathe the earth in a warm glow and chase away the morning crispness.

In the distance, the river beckoned. There was a spot in the bend, where the water snaked in its path around one side of the keep. Several trees and a natural boundary of rock outcroppings provided privacy, and it would be hard for someone not well above ground level to see her if she was bathing.

The light clean up she’d done the night before hadn’t been enough. She could still feel residual stickiness from the ale. Some had splashed into her hair and it would need a good washing. But she didn’t want to visit the bathhouse, where she’d be forced into the company of other Montgomery women.

If Rorie could be found, perhaps she could be persuaded to accompany Eveline and at least stand guard so that no one else would venture down to that particular spot in the river.

Satisfied with her plan and looking forward to a good swim, she collected a change of clothing, chose one of the warm blankets to dry on, and then dug out the sweet-smelling soaps she’d used to wash up with the night before.

Arms full, she left the chamber. She passed Rorie’s open door in the hall, and then she realized that since Rorie had already left her chamber that Eveline had no idea where to find her. Dread filled her stomach and she paused at the top of the stairs. Then anger tightened her lips. She wasn’t going to allow the Montgomery women the satisfaction of making her so afraid that she feared leaving her chamber.

She marched down the stairs and entered the great hall, head held high like she owned the place. She never paused even though many, as they’d done the day before, stopped in their duties to stare at her.