“I don’t know that she can ever make you a proper wife,” Tavis said in a low voice that sounded precariously close to pleading. “Don’t force the issue. I wouldn’t have her hurt or ill-treated for anything in the world. She is dear to all of us. You are receiving a gift, Laird. Whether you choose to believe so or not, you are receiving something more precious than gold.”
CHAPTER 8
Graeme climbed the steps to the chamber he’d been assigned. As the apparent guest of honor, he’d been afforded a room in the upper wing while his brothers had been consigned to the common sleeping hall where many of the warriors slept on cots lining the walls.
Since his room was next to the Earl of Dunbar’s, he wondered if the earl had been the one to insist this respect be given Graeme. Armstrong would have likely wanted them all to camp outside the walls of the keep with the rest of his men. Or better yet, never have set foot on Armstrong land to begin with.
Graeme pushed open his door, only wanting to bed down for the night. Tomorrow he’d wed and then leave for home to face the inevitability of his future. Or lack thereof. He wasn’t one to focus on the negative, but for the first time he felt a certain bleakness, because any dream he had of heirs and passing his legacy on to his own bloodline was gone. As was any thought of revenge against the clan who’d murdered his da.
When he stepped inside, he was surprised to see candles already burning and a fire laid in the hearth. But he was even more surprised to see Eveline perched on the edge of his bed, her expression guarded as she stared up at him.
She wore the same dress she’d had on earlier in the day. While Lady Armstrong had dressed for the occasion to greet her guests—albeit unwanted ones—Eveline had first greeted him in a simple frock that was similar to a work dress worn by the other women in the clan. And perhaps because it was so simple, it had only drawn a more stark comparison between Eveline’s beauty and the plainness of her apparel.
But then Graeme wasn’t certain there was a single item she could wear that would diminish what was clearly a beautiful lass.
Eveline looked to be worried that he would be angry over the intrusion. And he should be. It was a breech of his privacy, but it was also improper for her to be alone with him in his chamber on the eve of their wedding. Her family would be outraged if they knew of her whereabouts, and it could call into question his own honor that he so jealously guarded.
And yet he couldn’t bring himself to show any temper toward the lass.
Unsure of what he should do, he continued into the room, closing the door behind him. After a moment he turned to look at her, and he could see a hint of color rise in her cheeks, reflected in the soft candlelight.
She looked angelic. Impossibly beautiful. He’d never seen anything her equal. It wasn’t that she was the most beautifully fashioned woman he’d ever seen, but she was easily the most …
He frowned. The most what?
There was something quite irresistible about her and he couldn’t even put his finger on it. She lacked the practiced graces of older, more mature women. But neither did she look like a maiden too young for a man to even look at.
She was … just right.
God’s teeth, was he lusting over his bride? Self-loathing filled him. He should be treating her gently and kindly. It was obvious there was something off about the lass, even if he didn’t know the extent, and here he was looking at her as a prospective wife with all the benefits entailed.
No matter that she was an Armstrong. It was clear she couldn’t be punished for or defined by the actions of her family when it was likely she was unaware of most things around her.
As much as he didn’t want to label any Armstrong a victim, he had enough intelligence to know she didn’t deserve this union any more than he deserved to be forced into it.
She would be taken from her home—the only safe haven she had. From everyone who protected and loved her—and it was obvious she was well loved by her family. She would be thrust into a hostile environment. Could any Armstrong ever find a place in the Montgomery clan? It was going to be a difficult matter, no matter how it was handled, and it was she who stood to lose the most, while all he gained was an unwanted wife and grudging truce with the Armstrongs.
As if she had grown impatient with him just standing and staring at her, she stood with a slight frown and then crossed the room to stand just before him. She reached for his face and his automatic reaction was to flinch away.
Hurt shadowed her eyes and she snatched her hand back, a frown turning her lips down.
Aggrieved that he’d somehow hurt her, he carefully reached down, took her hand and then raised it back to his chin where she’d nearly touched him before. He had no idea of her intention, but he would see how it played out.
She smiled and again he was struck by how such a smile transformed her entire face into a ray of sunshine. Her fingers slid delicately over his rough jaw and to his lips. His eyes widened when she touched his mouth and then pushed up and down at his lips.
When he didn’t immediately react, she frowned and pushed more forcefully. Then she removed her fingers and pressed her finger and thumb into his cheeks, squeezing so his lips puckered outward.
Frowning harder, she stared up at him as if to say, Do you not understand? It seemed clear the lass wanted him to speak.
He nearly laughed. Everyone treated her as somewhat of a simpleton, but here she was acting as if he were the dolt with no sense.
She wanted him to speak. Of what, he had no idea, but it was clear she wanted him to say something.
“You shouldn’t be here, Eveline,” he said kindly. “It’s not proper and if your father should find out, he’d almost certainly declare war, which would most assuredly displease our king.”