Never Seduce a Scot: The Montgomerys and Armstrongs Page 4

  Such a thing had never been accomplished in the history of their clans. Never had they stood so close without swords drawn and much blood shed. Graeme’s hand itched for wanting to grip his sword, and his throat ached from wanting to bellow a war cry.

  “I do not like this,” Tavis said quietly, his voice steady with a thread of steel. “As God is my witness, there is no part of me that agrees to this madness.”

  Graeme nodded, appreciating the older man’s candor. When he spoke, he was just as blunt. “I don’t like it any more than you.”

  “You sacrifice nothing,” Tavis bit out. “There is nothing for you to dislike. You walk away with my daughter and you give up nothing in return.”

  Graeme lifted an eyebrow as anger crept up his nape, seizing the back of his skull. He had to work to keep from losing his temper. It took all he had not to lunge for the other man. All he could see was his da’s face and stare at the man whose father was responsible for murdering his da.

  “Think you I do not? I am saddled with a defective wife, one who will never bear me heirs. I give up much. I give up everything.”

  “She’s not defective!” one of the Armstrong sons roared as he leapt forward.

  Teague and Bowen drew their swords in a split second and stepped in front of Graeme to ward off attack. Their arms shook, and Graeme knew what it cost them not to just run the Armstrongs through on the spot.

  The entire situation had the potential to explode at a moment’s notice. The two sides were too eager to have any excuse to shed the other’s blood.

  “That’s enough,” the Earl of Dunbar barked. “The king would be most displeased. He wants peace and it’s peace he shall have. When this wedding is done, an oath will be sworn between the two clans and a treaty will be signed in blood. Any breach of the treaty will be viewed as an act of treason against the crown. Your lands will be forfeit and you’ll be branded outlaws and hunted as such.”

  “Brodie, stand down,” Tavis said to the son who’d roared in anger. “Aiden, put your sword away.”

  Brodie glared at Graeme as if he wanted nothing more than to spit Graeme on his sword right here and now. Graeme gave him a slow smirk that clearly said, “Try it.”

  “She’s worth ten of you,” Brodie bit out as he backed away.

  He and Teague slowly resheathed their swords, but both kept their hands on the hilts.

  Tavis held up his hand, and he looked suddenly weary, lines of age creasing his forehead. He looked like a man who’d waged war with the very devil. Graeme couldn’t feel any sympathy. Not when the man’s father had murdered Graeme’s own father. Not when his clan had lost so much over the years to the Armstrongs.

  “Come inside,” Tavis said in a tone that conveyed just how much he loathed having to issue the invitation. “My lady wife will have drink and refreshment after your journey.”

  “Indeed, and I should like to meet my prospective bride,” Graeme said in a mocking voice.

  Brodie’s lips turned into a snarl again, but Tavis silenced him with a quick look. He motioned to Graeme and his brothers, and they walked inside the keep, the earl standing between the two groups as they filed into the great hall.

  A petite woman rose from her chair by the hearth and laid aside her sewing. It was obvious that she must be Tavis’s wife, though she didn’t look to be a woman of any significant age.

  Fear engulfed her face even though she tried valiantly to hide it, and it left Graeme disgusted, for he’d never raise arms against a woman. No matter that she was the wife of his enemy, she should be accorded the respect and courtesy due her station.

  He walked forward, hoping she didn’t turn and run screaming from the room, but she held her ground and returned his stare without flinching.

  “My lady,” he said, making a deep bow.

  When he lifted his head, he reached for her hand and she allowed him to take it. He raised the back to his lips and brushed them barely over the top in a gesture of respect.

  “You are Graeme Montgomery,” she said in a strained voice.

  “I am,” he said solemnly. “And you are Lady Armstrong.”

  “Robina,” she amended. “After all we are to be … f-family,” she stammered out and looked ill for saying the words.

  To be honest, they made him just as ill. Family? Never. “Robina, then.”

  He turned to his brothers. “These are my brothers, Bowen and Teague.”

  “You have a sister as well, do you not?” Robina questioned.

  Graeme’s expression hardened. “I would never bring her here. She is home and well guarded. She is young yet, and I would not have her exposed to a potentially … hostile … situation.”

  “And yet I am forced to send my daughter into the bosom of our enemy,” Robina said in a near whisper.

  “My lady, I do not wage war against women. Your daughter will not die by my hand nor the hand of any of my clansmen. As the wife of the laird, she will be afforded every courtesy due her position.”

  Robina didn’t look heartened by his vow. She looked like she wanted to weep.

  Graeme turned, surveying the nearly empty hall. It was as if every Armstrong had vacated in anticipation of the Montgomerys’ arrival. Only he and his brothers, the earl and Tavis, and the laird’s wife and sons were present.

  He then focused on Tavis because he truly didn’t want to upset the laird’s wife more than she already was. She bore no blame for the sins of her husband and his kin.

  “I would like to see the woman I’m supposed to marry. I would make her acquaintance before we are wed.”

  “Laird Montgomery,” Robina interjected, turning his attention back to her. Her expression was pleading. “Please, may I speak to you plainly of my daughter before you seek to have her in your presence?”

  “Speak your mind, my lady. I will take no offense if none is intended.”

  “Has no one told you of her?”

  “He called her defective,” Brodie snarled from across the room.

  Robina whitened, though Graeme couldn’t tell if it was in anger or upset.

  “I have heard she is … unwell,” Graeme said in an effort to be kind.

  “Speak the truth,” Teague snapped. “ ’Tis widely known the lass is daft and cannot bear you heirs. ’Tis madness for this marriage to take place. It can solve nothing.”

  In that moment, Graeme truly believed that if Robina had been armed, she would have tried to kill his younger brother. He stepped automatically into the pathway between her and Teague to ward off any confrontation.

  Brodie began to argue loudly while Tavis turned on Teague. The hall erupted in a fury of yelling, and insults flew. Only the presence of the earl prevented bloodshed.

  “Enough!” the earl roared. “Clear the hall!” He pointed at Armstrong’s sons and then Graeme’s own brothers. “Out. Leave them to discuss the matter before them.”

  “I’ll not leave my brother to be murdered in this viper’s nest,” Bowen snarled.

  Graeme held up his hand. “I am well protected, Bowen. Take your leave. Go check on the men and make sure all is as it should be. The sooner this is done with, the sooner we can be back on our own lands.”

  Reluctantly, his brothers and the Armstrong whelps took their leave. Then Graeme turned back to Robina. “Now, my lady, speak your mind. I grow impatient.”

  Tavis came to stand beside his wife, almost as if daring Graeme to show her any disrespect in speech or look.

  “Eveline is … different. She’s not daft. ’Tis God’s truth, I do not fully understand the depth of what has afflicted her. When she was younger, three years past, she took a fall from her horse into a ravine and remained there three days before we were able to find her.”

  Graeme frowned. “Are you saying she wasn’t born this way? That whatever affliction she has was because of an injury?”

  “Aye. Well, nay. She wasn’t born this way. There has never been a sweeter child. Intelligent. Sharp witted. Full of life and laughter. She would ha
ve made any man a wife he’d fight for. But she was ill for a length of time after her fall. And she was never the same afterward. She doesn’t speak. Hasn’t spoken since she awakened from a deep slumber of over a fortnight.”

  “ ’Tis all? She doesn’t speak?” Some husbands would be grateful for such a gift.

  Robina shook her head. “I’m trying to tell you that she won’t make you a fit wife. You can’t treat her as you would another woman. Please, if you have any mercy at all, you’ll treat her kindly and leave her alone. She does not deserve to be punished for what has been wrought by her kin.”

  Anger was starting to prickle over his flesh and up his nape until his jaw was tight.

  “I don’t make war against women and the innocent,” he growled. “I won’t repeat myself again.”

  “By all that is holy, Montgomery, if any harm comes to my daughter when she is in your care, there is no rock you will be able to hide under,” Tavis bit out. “I will come for you with the full force of me and mine and all that ally with me.”

  “I would think less of you than I already do if you did not do so,” Graeme snapped. “Now enough with the endless prattle. I have no more desire to wed a child who isn’t in full control of her faculties than you have to see your daughter wedded to me. But neither of us has a choice. ’Tis better to have it done with before things are said and done that cannot be retracted.”

  “In that we are agreed,” the earl said from a few feet away. “You’ve stated your position, Tavis. There is naught else to be said. Fetch your daughter so that Graeme may meet his bride.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Eveline felt the earth tremble below her and she automatically picked up her head, wondering who had gone riding on the hill where she was sprawled. She saw Brodie astride his horse, his head turning to survey the terrain. When his gaze fell on her, she saw the instant relief in his eyes.

  He slid from his horse, dropped the reins to allow the horse to graze, and strode in her direction. As he grew near, she could see what it was he said.

  “… everywhere for you, Eveline. You had me—us—worried. Mother is distraught for thinking you ran away in fear.”

  She frowned, because where she may have once done something so selfish and cowardly, it was not something she’d ever do again. She might be terrified of her impending marriage, but she would face her future head-on and not give her family any hint of her inner turmoil. She owed them that much.

  Brodie reached for her hand to pull her to her feet, and then to her surprise he hugged her fiercely, holding her against his chest for the longest time.

  She allowed it, enjoying the show of affection. It wasn’t that Brodie wasn’t affectionate with her. Of all her relatives, he was the most demonstrative. He also treated her less like a half person than the rest. To him she was his baby sister and that was all.

  But this felt different. Almost as if it were he who needed comforting and not her. She wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him back with all her strength. Which, considering she couldn’t even circle his muscled girth and make her hands touch on the other side, wasn’t much.

  She knew he was talking to her because she could feel the vibrations rumbling from his chest, but she didn’t want to give up the hug to push away so she could see what it was he said.

  When he finally pulled away, he took her hand and started to tug her toward the keep. She stopped and frowned, then looked back at his horse.

  “I’ll send someone back for it. I’d thought to have to go much farther to find you. You know I wouldn’t make you ride with me.”

  For a moment, her gaze left her brother once more to find the horse who was grazing contentedly a few feet away. She didn’t hate horses. They’d once been something she loved more than anything else. She hated that when she got close, when she could smell them, could feel their power, that she broke into a cold sweat and terror gripped her.

  She hadn’t ridden since her accident. She missed it. Missed the freedom of riding across open land, hair flying behind her, not a care in the world. Now the mere idea of being astride something so strong paralyzed her. She weighed nothing in comparison. It was so easy for a horse to unseat her.

  Brodie tugged again, and this time he led her away more forcefully. She had a thousand questions she wanted to put to her brother, but she had no idea how to formulate them. No way to make him understand that she craved information.

  What was the Montgomery chieftain like? Was he grotesque? Was he menacing?

  She halted again, withdrew her hand from Brodie’s, then touched his arm and tilted her head toward the keep. Then she lifted her eyebrows in clear question.

  Brodie pursed his lips and blew out air, his cheeks puffing slightly. He glanced away, ran a hand through his hair and then finally directed his gaze back to her. There was deep sorrow in his eyes. Worry. Love. Concern.

  “Graeme Montgomery is here. He wants to meet you. He doesn’t want to stay any longer than necessary, and the earl of Dunbar will grant that request because he fears what will happen if the Montgomerys and Armstrongs are forced to remain in each others’ presence for too long.”

  She put a finger to his lips and then shook her head in a negative motion. Then she smiled because she wanted him not to look so sad. If there was ever a time she wished she had the courage to try to speak, it was now. She opened her mouth, willing to try, not even knowing what would come out, but before she could issue those guttural sounds that she hoped formed words, her brother turned sharply and then held up a fist in the air.

  He bellowed something she couldn’t discern, but felt the vibration from his body. When she looked in the direction he was staring, she saw that Aiden was in the distance, motioning them toward the keep.

  Brodie put a hand to the middle of her back and nudged her forward. She was sure he spoke, but she was too focused on the keep as they drew near to try to discern what it was he said. It was at these times that she knew others thought her daft because she simply didn’t respond, didn’t react. He could be saying anything at all and she’d never know.

  When they approached Aiden, he was frowning, and she knew a reprimand was forthcoming so she purposely didn’t look at him, because if she didn’t see what he was saying, then it didn’t really happen.

  Perfectly logical in her mind.

  Not that Aiden was ever mean. He was just less patient than Brodie. And he worried for her. If he had his way, she’d stay in the keep and never wander far. She’d never forget that it was he who’d found her in the ravine and that he’d feared the worst. That she had died.

  She walked into the keep, flanked by her brothers, and she had to admit, it bolstered her courage because being between them, she knew she’d never come to harm.

  As soon as she entered the hall, she came to an abrupt halt, her gaze automatically finding the man who commanded the most authority. It was obvious—at least to her—who the chieftain of the Montgomery clan was.

  Power clung to him. It was an almost visible aura surrounding him.

  She swallowed nervously and her palms grew damp. He was big. Really big. Taller than even her brothers. He was broad-shouldered, with an equally broad chest, more narrow at the waist, and his legs were solid masses of muscle, as big around as she was. Maybe her first impression was a wee bit exaggerated, but he looked like a mountain to her.

  His medium brown hair was unruly. It hung to just below the base of his neck and curled at the ends, flipping this way and that. It was obvious he hadn’t a care when he had it shorn. Unlike his brothers—or at least she assumed the two men with him were his brothers—he wore his hair shorter.

  One of the men with him was beautiful. It seemed odd to describe a man with such a feminine term—and there was nothing remotely feminine about him. But he hadn’t a single flaw that Eveline could see. His hair was as dark as a raven’s wing and his eyes were a vivid blue. It was a certainty that Eveline had never seen his equal when it came to fairness of face. It was hard to look aw
ay from him.

  The man who stood on Graeme’s other side was nearly as large as his two brothers, and he had a lot of similarities to the really handsome brother. In fact, of the three, Graeme was probably the least blessed with a face that women would fawn over or that poets and bards would compose lyrics about, but still she was drawn over and over to Graeme’s features. The lines of his face. The strength in his deceptively casual pose.

  Nay, he wasn’t beautiful like his brothers, but there was something even more arresting about his appearance. Something that intrigued her and drew her to look at him again and again.

  To the unguarded eye he seemed relaxed, but to her he seemed tense and ready to strike at a moment’s notice

  And then the most amazing thing happened. As she stood there gaping, nearly hidden behind her brothers, an odd vibration echoed through her ears.

  It was faint—so faint that she thought perhaps she’d imagined it. But no, there it was again. A deep timbre—a voice! Low-pitched like some of the other rare sounds she was able to hear, though until now she’d never been certain that they were real. She’d thought they were only memories of sounds she’d heard before her world had gone silent.

  She pushed around her brothers so she could more squarely see the room, and she searched for the source of that sound. That beautiful sound.

  As soon as she made her presence known, the others looked her way, and it was then she saw that Graeme’s lips were moving. It was him she was hearing!

  Uncaring of how forward or discourteous she might appear, she rushed forward, eager to be closer, wanting more of this delicious sensation in her ears.

  But his lips stopped moving the moment she halted in front of him. They turned down into a frown as he stared back at her, almost as if he found her lacking.

  Color suffused her cheeks and she lowered her gaze, suddenly shamed. Of course he’d find her lacking. He would have heard the stories and here she came boldly rushing forward, not even refreshed or appropriately dressed to greet her prospective husband. He must think her extremely disrespectful.