Never Seduce a Scot (The Montgomerys and Armstrongs #1)(70)

She’d been a trusting idiot, so eager to please, so determined to win a place in the hearts of her new clan when such a thing was never going to be possible.

Bowen reached over the table to lay his hand on hers, and she turned her gaze to him, battling tears with everything she had inside her. Damned if she’d let them know how much they’d hurt her. Damn them all.

“Eveline, he is not angry with you,” Bowen said, his expression gentle.

“They hate me,” she whispered. “They all hate me and there is naught to do about it. Graeme can’t make them accept me. I want to go home.”

Teague abruptly stood and also turned and stalked from the table. Eveline closed her eyes at the rapidly forming nightmare that was her life. Her future. It had never looked so bleak as it did now.

“I’m not hungry,” she announced. “I have a need for some fresh air.”

Before Bowen could say anything more, she turned away from him so he was effectively silenced to her. She, too, left the table, but she retreated to the back entrance, the one that led to the back of the keep.

There was a gateway that led to the back meadow where the children often played. No one would be about this early, and she could walk beyond the bend in the river where it meandered through Montgomery land and slashed through the sloping hillside behind the keep.

A long walk was what she needed. Away from the others. Away from their scorn and ridicule and their childish games they played to make her feel stupid. She was finished being the object of their amusement. They could all go rot for all she cared. For the first time she understood her clan’s hatred of the Montgomerys. A more horrid lot of people she’d never met.

CHAPTER 33

Graeme was so furious that he had to step into the courtyard to collect himself or he feared harming someone in his rage. Never had he been so angry with members of his own clan. Never had he been in the grip of such a helpless rage. He wanted to strangle the lot of them.

The devastation and shame in Eveline’s eyes had been his undoing. Seeing the damage wrought to her hands by the misdeeds of the women of his clan, not to mention the other abuses that had been heaped upon her, made him want to repay them in kind.

“Graeme, is ought amiss?”

He turned to see Father Drummond standing a few feet away, a concerned look on the young man’s face.

“Aye,” Graeme snapped, not volunteering more information.

“Is there something I can do?” the priest inquired softly. “I was on my way to the hall to break my fast and then to meet Rorie in the accounting room. The lass is determined to begin her lessons at once. I fear she’ll keep me prisoner until she’s mastered the art of reading and writing.”

Father Drummond’s attempt at levity fell flat as Graeme continued to seethe. He tempered his words, though, because Father Drummond was a good man. A man of God and he deserved none of Graeme’s ire.

“Go to Rorie,” Graeme said. “ ’Tis best she is not present for what is to come.”

Father Drummond cast him a worried look, but turned and went into the keep as Graeme had directed. Graeme then went in search of his most senior man. Douglas Montgomery had been a good and loyal man even before Graeme’s father’s death. He’d served faithfully under Robert Montgomery and had transferred that loyalty to Graeme when Graeme became laird.

He went to Douglas’s cottage, one of the many that lined the hillside adjacent to the keep.

He knocked sharply, impatient as he waited for Douglas to appear. A moment later, the older man opened the door, his eyes darkening in concern when he saw Graeme standing there.

Without giving the other man the opportunity to speak, Graeme issued a terse order.

“Summon every last clansman and have them assemble in the courtyard. I want every man, woman, and child, and I want them there in five minutes. Anyone not present will be in defiance of my word and will be dealt with accordingly.”

Douglas’s eyebrows shot up, but he didn’t question his laird’s directive.

“I’ll have them there at once, Laird.”

Graeme nodded, then turned on his heel and stalked back to the courtyard to await the gathering. Bowen and Teague had both just stepped out of the keep when Graeme returned to the courtyard.

Soon the call could be heard, and it echoed over the keep and was relayed with urgency not used since the Montgomerys were last under siege.

“What do you plan?” Bowen asked with a frown as he approached Graeme.

“I know you are angry, brother, but think on your words before you act,” Teague warned.

“Think?” Graeme snarled. “What I think is that I’ve never been more shamed by my clan as I am now. Never before have they given me cause to be shamed. But what they have done to an innocent woman brings disgrace to our entire clan.”

Bowen sighed. “I know it, but do not react in anger. Give yourself a moment to calm before speaking to our kin.”

“Did you see her hands?” Graeme demanded. “Did you see the humiliation and sadness in her eyes? As God is my witness, it sickens me that this has gone on behind the walls of this keep and it sickens me that I’ve allowed it. I am just as guilty as they are, for I stood by and let them treat her as they did.”

“You did not sanction this,” Teague bit out.

“Nay, but neither did I prevent it, and now I must live with the knowledge that I allowed my wife to be sorely abused by my kinsmen.”