by Maya Banks
“I like your spirit. Bold move. But a good idea. Show them early on that they can’t bully you. The women of our clan can be quite headstrong. They’re loyal, mind you, but they’re rather fierce in their opinions. ’Tis often said that Graeme is laird, but the women run the keep.”
Eveline’s eyebrows arched upward. Surely Rorie was jesting.
“Not that Graeme would ever admit such a thing,” Rorie added, still grinning. “But they’re an intimidating lot. Some like me, and some don’t.”
Eveline studied Rorie for a long moment. Here, too, was a lass who was likely underestimated. She had a frail, almost boyish appearance and yet she was impudent and struck Eveline as someone who was extremely quick-witted and intelligent.
Then she glanced over Rorie’s shoulder because she could see the women conversing. One holding a broom was only making a pretense of sweeping as she spoke with one of the women who’d been clearing a table.
It was hard for Eveline to follow, but she caught enough of the words to know she was the topic of conversation. The usual words were thrown about. Daft. Addled. Touched. She winced when she saw “stupid,” “arrogant,” and “Armstrong trash” added to the mix.
Anger tightened her jaw. Her first instinct was to defend herself, which was absurd given the fact that she’d spent the last three years allowing people to think of her what they liked, and she’d done nothing at all to correct their assumptions. Beliefs that she’d purposely fed.
But it hurt more coming from these people. They didn’t know her. They judged her solely on the fact that she was an Armstrong. Her clan was worth ten of them and the women of her keep weren’t as lazy.
The woman who’d sniped at Eveline about eating sooner stalked toward the table and rudely plunked down Eveline’s serving of bread and cheese. She shot Eveline a disgruntled look and then turned and walked away. The woman hadn’t brought anything for Eveline to drink, and Eveline wasn’t going to risk a confrontation over it. She could make do without.
Eveline nibbled at the bread. It was quite good and someone had taken the effort to warm it a bit or perhaps it had been stored close to a heat source in the kitchen. At any rate, it was soft and tasted wonderful.
“Would you like a tour of the keep after you’ve eaten?” Rorie asked.
Eveline pursed her lips in thought, suddenly nervous about taking that direct an approach. It had consumed most of her courage just to come down to the hall to eat.
“Not scared, are you?” Rorie said with that gleam in her eye.
Eveline frowned and curled her lip, letting Rorie know what she thought of her baiting. But it had the effect Rorie obviously wanted because there was no way Eveline would refuse now. She wasn’t going to let a bunch of Montgomerys back her down and force her into hiding.
She was a chieftain’s daughter and now a chieftain’s wife. That counted for something, didn’t it? She may not be a mighty warrior, but one thing she’d learned after observing her mother, was that if anything could fell a warrior, it was a determined woman.
Rorie sent her a satisfied smile and then sat back to wait as Eveline finished eating.
When Eveline was done she sent a pointed glance at Rorie and then rose, taking the initiative and stepping around the table, past Rorie, so she was in the lead and not cowering behind her sister-in-law.
Chin up, she walked down the middle of the hall, boldly meeting the stares of the other women as she passed. At the end, a dark-haired woman stepped into her path, and Eveline had to pull up short to keep from plowing into her.
The woman was pretty enough. Younger perhaps than the other women who’d been working in the hall. Her green eyes would be pretty if they weren’t full of cold malice. She eyed Eveline with open hostility, her nostrils flaring almost as if she were challenging Eveline.
“Armstrong bitch.”
The words were formed on the woman’s lips with such clarity that there was no possibility of Eveline mistaking them. The woman’s daring took Eveline aback and she stared agape.
Rorie pushed in front of Eveline before Eveline could react. She was turned just enough that Eveline could see what she said.
“The only bitch here is you, Kierstan,” Rorie said, her features drawn tight with anger. “Back off or I’ll tell Graeme that you’re maligning his wife.”
Kierstan’s face twisted in disgust, but she turned and walked away, leaving Rorie and Eveline standing there. Rorie turned to Eveline and smiled.
“There now. That’s out of the way. Shall we proceed with the tour?”
CHAPTER 15
Graeme was aware that Rorie was taking Eveline around the keep because he’d been told by no fewer than a dozen clansmen. They acted as though he should lock Eveline in his chamber and keep her there at all times.
He understood their hatred for the Armstrongs because it was a hatred he shared. But he didn’t understand their willingness to extend that hatred to an innocent woman. He couldn’t say he was surprised by it, but he didn’t understand it.
By the time the next person happened along to inform Graeme that his Armstrong wife was walking around Montgomery land as if she belonged, Graeme’s patience was wearing thin.
“She does belong,” he roared, startling the older man with the force of his bellow.
He turned in a half circle so that everyone within hearing would know of his displeasure.
“ ’Tis enough! The king has decreed this marriage and there is naught to be done about it. Stop acting as sulky children and cease making an innocent woman suffer for something she has no knowledge of. You should all be shamed by your actions.”
Bowen frowned from a short distance away where he was instructing a group of young lads in the use of bows and arrows. He shoved the fistful of arrows at one of the boys and then turned to walk in Graeme’s direction.
“You can’t ignore what this does to them,” Bowen clipped out as he drew near. “You expect them to just accept it and forget all that has happened in the past, as you have done. You expect too much, Graeme.”
Graeme faced his brother down, anger crawling up his neck. “You dare tell me that I’ve forgotten the past? You dare speak to me of what I should expect?”
With each word, his fury grew until he was a seething cauldron of rage. He took a step toward Bowen and met his brother’s gaze unflinchingly.
“If you disagree with my handling of the situation, then perhaps you should challenge me for the title of chieftain.”
Bowen’s eyes widened. “ ’Tis not what I’m saying or doing at all!”
“You are either loyal to me and support me or you challenge me. ’Tis your choice,” Graeme bit out.
“You know I support you,” Bowen said in a quieter voice.
“Nay, I do not know. If you supported me, you would cede to my wishes regarding Eveline. You would not sit idly by while your clansmen disparage her. What would Da think, Bowen? Think you that he would condone the treatment of an innocent this way? He was a fair and just man. He’d never allow a Montgomery to be discourteous to Eveline regardless of her parentage.”
Bowen had the grace to look abashed. “Aye, you’re right, Graeme. I’m sorry. Da would have taken her under his wing and spit in the eye of anyone who had a single cross word for her.”
He turned away and then gripped the back of his neck with his hand. When he looked again at Graeme, there was clear frustration in his eyes.
“I’m just angry. We all are. We’ve no desire for peace with the Armstrongs. It would be just as well if we could rid the earth of their presence entirely. The king has turned us into women, effectively tying our hands, and he’s saddled us with a constant reminder of all that we hate and all that we cannot do now.”
Graeme let go of the tight irritation that bound his chest. “I know it well, Bowen. Think you I have any more liking for the situation than you do? Than any other member of my clan? The king has robbed me of vengeance for my father’s death. ’Tis not something I let go of lightly. But
I cannot bring myself to make a wee lass suffer when none of this was her doing. I must be fair and just because it’s my duty as chieftain to be fair and just. How can I expect to be a leader to my clan when I mete out injustice on the innocent?”
“ ’Tis why you are the laird and I am not, nor do I ever wish to challenge your right to be laird,” Bowen said in a somber voice. “You’re much like Da. He would be proud. I don’t have your sense of justice, because all that runs through my veins is hatred for those who brought suffering to our clan. And to me.”
Before Graeme could respond, Bowen turned and walked away. He went past the group of lads who were awaiting instruction and continued until he was out of sight. He’d go riding as he was often wont to do. Of all the Montgomery sons, Bowen had been the closest to their father.
Graeme’s relationship with Robert Montgomery had always been different. It had to be. He was Robert’s heir and he had to learn his duties to his clan at a very young age. With Bowen, however, his father relaxed more. He was more patient with Bowen and they both loved horses. Graeme didn’t resent their relationship. He accepted it as he accepted all else in his life. It simply was.
Bowen was more passionate. About everything. Every emotion was keenly felt. He’d been grief-stricken when their father had been killed, and it had taken Graeme and Teague forcibly restraining him to prevent him from attacking the Armstrongs on his own.
He’d vowed vengeance, and now that it had been taken from him, his instinct was to lash out. Unfortunately, Eveline was an easy target. She was an Armstrong. She stood for everything that Bowen most hated.
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.
Rorie frowned a moment as she studied Eveline. Eveline repeated the motion this time, including Rorie so she’d understand what Eveline was asking.
“You want to learn to read and write as well?” Rorie looked astounded by the thought.
Eveline nodded vigorously.
Rorie’s eyes narrowed suspiciously and she rose, planting her palms down on the aged wood. She leaned forward, her features drawn into a near scowl. Her eyes met Eveline’s.
“Just how daft are you, Eveline Armstrong?”
CHAPTER 16
Eveline’s lips tightened into a firm line. She wanted to look away, pretend she didn’t understand, but if she did that, she risked Rorie seeing more than she already had.
And hadn’t she decided that there was no more need for deception? Perhaps she could ease her way into this new life. Take a step at a time.
Eveline swallowed and then slowly shook her head.
“What? No, you aren’t daft? No, you aren’t normal? What are you shaking your head for?” Rorie demanded.
“You aren’t daft.”
Eveline shook her head again.
“Do you even know what I’m asking?”
Eveline nodded.
Rorie blew out her breath and then sank back into the chair, staring at Eveline with clear incredulity.
“Then why on God’s green earth do you go around allowing people to think you’re touched?”
Eveline held her hands wide apart and then spread them even farther.
Rorie arched up her eyebrows. “Long story?”
Eveline nodded vigorously.
“It’s certainly one I’d like to hear.”
Eveline frowned unhappily and folded her hands over her arms, leaving them crossed protectively over her chest.
“You’re scared,” Rorie said.
Eveline hesitated a moment and then gave one quick nod. She hated to admit to such a weakness, but how could she not be frightened? Everyone hated her here.
Rorie still studied her intently as if trying to reach into Eveline’s mind and pluck out her thoughts, or at least see how sound it was.
“Not just here, though. At your home as well. You were afraid.”
For a long moment Eveline stood there, not wanting to admit that yes, she’d been afraid in the one place she should have felt safest in.
“Eveline?” Rorie prompted.
Her gaze dropped momentarily, but she nodded one more time.
“Tell me this much,” Rorie said as she leaned forward. “Have you pretended all this time? Ever since your accident? Wasn’t it some years ago?”
Eveline shrugged. Who was to say. In those early days, she truly may have been mad. She didn’t remember much. Her world had been in chaos as she’d tried to come to terms with all that had happened. She could understand why her clan had reached the assumption they had. She’d certainly acted like someone not in her right mind.
