Never Seduce a Scot (The Montgomerys and Armstrongs #1)(48)

Her shoulders sagged in relief. Then she glanced up at him, her eyes wide and hopeful.

“And will our marriage be real, Graeme? Will I be a real wife to you or do we merely play roles made necessary by a king’s decree?”

A low growl sounded in his throat, a noise he knew she couldn’t hear, but he damn well hoped she could feel the vibration rumble from his chest.

He tilted her chin upward and then slid his mouth over hers in a long, leisurely kiss.

When he pulled away, she was breathless and her lips were swollen.

“You’ll be my wife, Eveline. Make no mistake about that. Our marriage will most certainly be consummated.”

CHAPTER 22

Eveline’s heart was about to hammer out of her chest. She was nervous, excited, elated. So many things all balled up into one huge knot. She felt near to exploding. She wanted to ask when? And where? And how? Or what about now? But none of those things were proper or very ladylike. The very last thing she wanted to do was appall her husband.

Wanting to keep the connection to him, to be able to still touch him, she slid her hands over his palms, twining her fingers with his.

“I do not regret having to marry you,” she said gravely.

It was very odd to find herself speaking again, to know she was talking, but not be able to hear the words coming from her mouth. The vibrations tickled her throat, and already it was sore from the sudden explosion of words.

Her tongue was dry and she slipped one of her hands from his to rub at her throat.

“Would you like water?” Graeme asked. “Your throat must ache. You aren’t used to using your voice.”

She nodded, and he rose and went to the small table by the window where a jug of water was kept.

He poured a goblet full and returned to the bed, retaking his position just in front of her, and held the cup out to her.

She took it and sipped, grateful for the cool water against the rawness of her throat. When she’d yelled earlier, it had hurt. Now she would pay for her temper.

He touched her arm to gain her attention and she looked up to see him staring intently at her.

“I do not regret our marriage either, Eveline.”

Her eyes widened. She hadn’t expected such an admission. She’d made her confession for no other reason than that she’d wanted him to know. She hadn’t done it so he would reciprocate. But she couldn’t help the intense relief or the warm glow that arose from within her at his statement. Maybe … maybe they could have a marriage more like her parents’.

“I don’t anticipate that our marriage will be easy. ’Tis obvious our families are in opposition. My views on your kin are unchanged and I do not say so to hurt you. I say it because I won’t lie to you.”

She swallowed, but held his gaze so she’d catch every word even if they did hurt.

“But I do not regret the union that was forced upon us.”

He touched her cheek in a gentle caress.

“I’ll protect you, Eveline. I’ll not let my kin do harm to you, nor will I allow them to disparage you in any way. We must decide now what we tell them. There is no reason for you to live in secrecy, hiding in the shadows any longer. Ian McHugh cannot hurt you here.”

The hand holding the goblet shook, and he carefully pried it from her hand, setting it on the floor beside the bed. Then he took both her hands in his and squeezed gently as if to offer her support.

“They’ll likely still think me daft,” she blurted. “ ’Tis true I do have a defect.”

Graeme scowled. “ ’Tis not of your doing. You suffered an accident and subsequent illness. You can speak and make known your thoughts, your needs. You can understand what others say to you. You can do everything a normal lass can do. The only difference is that you cannot hear. That does not make you daft or any less intelligent, and anyone who says differently will have me to answer to.”

Her heart lightened and warmth traveled through her chest until she was smiling. Relief was overwhelming. After living so long with the fear of discovery, with guilt over her deception, she was seeing an end to it all.

He was offering her freedom of the sweetest kind. Freedom from the stigma of being less than a person, even though she’d brought it on herself. Freedom to have a normal life, one devoid of fear. Never would she have to worry over Ian McHugh again.

“If you wish to tell your clan the truth, I’ll not argue the point,” she said. “Perhaps then they’ll know that when I do not respond, it’s not because I’m slighting them. It’s because I have not heard their address.”

The cadence of Eveline’s speech was oddly mesmerizing. It was certainly different. But to Graeme it was pleasing. Others would still likely disparage her when she spoke just because she sounded different. She still struggled over some words and she hadn’t learned to monitor the loudness of her tone—how could she have when she hadn’t practiced?

It was a task he’d set Rorie to immediately. His sister had developed an affinity for Eveline from the first day. Rorie was a solid ally for Eveline, and Graeme didn’t have to worry that Rorie would be disloyal to her. Rorie could help her find the right volume so Eveline would better know how loudly she was speaking by the way the words felt coming out of her throat.

“I think it best they know the truth,” Graeme said. “I don’t want to give them any reason to continue with their insults and disrespect. Not that you wouldn’t be due that respect if you were ‘touched.’ There’s no reason for others to levy such hatred toward that which they do not understand. But this way they’ll know what a capable, intelligent young lass you are, even more so because you have no hearing and yet you’ve managed to teach yourself the very difficult task of reading words from people’s mouths.”