Never Seduce a Scot (The Montgomerys and Armstrongs #1)(73)

He lowered himself to the ground next to her, but her attention was focused on a faraway point. She was staring toward her father’s lands with a look of such longing that a lump formed in his throat.

“I know ’tis not possible,” she said in a voice strained with tears. “But I do not want to be here any longer.”

Tentatively he reached for her hand, but as soon as his fingers soothed over her palm, she yanked it away and clutched both hands together in her lap. She directed her gaze downward, refusing to look at Graeme, which effectively prevented him from speaking to her.

Impatience coupled with panic set in. He couldn’t fight this, fight for her, if she refused to communicate with him. If she’d given up, truly given up, then what was there left for him to do?

He could not—would not—let her go. No matter what he had to do, she would stay by his side.

And yet the thought of her being so unhappy ripped his heart out. He wasn’t selfless enough to grant her freedom. He wanted her wholly to himself. By his side. In his bed every night. In his arms. The very sight of her did odd things to his mood. Anyone who could look at Eveline and not smile was a harder man than he. She was … She was a ray of sunshine on the dreariest of days. She filled a hole he hadn’t even thought occupied his heart.

He couldn’t let her go.

He shifted closer to her and then reached to gently cup her chin so he could turn her face in his direction. Her eyes automatically lowered, but he waited, simply holding her there until finally, grudgingly, she looked up and met his gaze.

“Give me a chance to make you happy, Eveline.”

Her eyes widened, and then her brow furrowed, as if she was trying to discern whether she’d correctly interpreted his words.

He released her chin and then brushed the backs of his fingers down the soft skin of her cheek.

“I know it has not been an easy transition for you.”

She let out a snort, her lips twisting.

“Aye, I know, ’tis an understatement of the situation.”

She nodded and it worried him that she’d resorted to not speaking, almost as if she’d withdrawn into the protective world she’d formed before.

He pushed himself to his feet and held down a hand for her. She glanced curiously up at him, but didn’t put her hand into his.

“Walk with me, Eveline.”

She hesitated a long moment and then slowly extended her hand so he could help her up. Relief overwhelmed him. She wasn’t turning away from him. At least not yet.

He assisted her to her feet, glanced back to see where his horse was grazing, and then set off in the opposite direction, so the horse’s presence wouldn’t be unsettling to her.

Tucking her arm underneath his, he guided her through the meadow and up the incline where a bluff overlooked the boundary of Montgomery and Armstrong land. He didn’t miss the wistful way in which she stared at the river that snaked through the small valley, marking the line between the two clans’ holdings.

Then he turned so they were facing each other, but he kept her hands in his, not wanting separation between them.

Gently he turned her hands so they were palm up, the backs against his palms, exposing the raw and angry flesh. He lifted one and pressed his mouth to the abused skin and kissed every inch of flesh, soothed over every blistered and torn area.

Then he lifted her other hand and did the same.

When he was done, he rested her hands over his chest, cupped in his hold, his fingers circling her wrists. He made certain she was looking at him before he spoke.

“I understand why you want to go home. I don’t even blame you. You’ve not been treated kindly by my clan.”

Hurt flashed in her eyes and her bottom lip quivered, as if she was trying hard not to cry again.

“I allowed them to make a fool of me,” she said, finally breaking her silence.

“Nay,” he refuted forcefully. “You came to this clan willing to set aside your hatred or fear. You embraced a marriage that was forced on you and you’ve determined that you’ll make the best of a very difficult situation. You were torn from the bosom of your family and everything that was familiar and dear to you. And yet you didn’t allow that to cloud your judgment of your new clan. ’Tis more than I can say for any member of my clan and even myself. We were wrong, Eveline. We are wrong, and I want very much to have the opportunity to right this wrong against you.”

“You cannot make them accept me,” she said in a low voice that he had to strain to hear. “You cannot change what’s in their hearts. I thought …” She sighed. “I thought I could if I just tried hard enough, if I made the effort. I was wrong.”

The defeat in her words tore at him. He’d never felt so helpless and it wasn’t a pleasant feeling. He was used to issuing an order and for that order to be followed, no question, no argument. He had been faulty in thinking it was as simple as ordering his people to accept his wife. He was used to being heeded, his word not being challenged. Now he faced the seemingly insurmountable task of changing the thinking of an entire clan and ridding them of hatred that had existed for countless years.

“Eveline,” he began, his voice breaking as he tried to gain control of his emotions. “I was wrong in thinking that this would be a simple matter. I am to blame for not handling the situation with more thought and regard.”