But that fantasy had quickly evaporated the moment Ian had made known his intentions toward her. Her dreams had been replaced by a nightmare she’d feared never escaping.
She hated hiding here, behind her father and mother and even her brothers. Allowing others to think she was less than she was. But what she most hated was having to give up that dream. And now? It seemed regardless of all she’d done to ensure that she’d always remain safely hidden away on her father’s land, the day had arrived when she’d be forced to venture beyond their borders to a new life.
This certainly wouldn’t have been the way she envisioned ever broadening her horizons, but she didn’t have a choice. Shouldn’t she try to make the best of a bad situation?
Her mother was distraught. Her father was grim and worried and in a mood so foul, no one dared disturb him unless it was of utmost importance. Even her brothers were short-tempered. It was as if a black cloud had descended on the keep, and ever since the message had been received that the Montgomerys would arrive before nightfall, the keep had been in a flurry of activity.
Eveline had escaped unnoticed, but they would be looking for her even now. Perhaps to hide her. Perhaps to present her to the man who would be her husband.
She’d watched enough lips to know that with the earl in residence, any act of disobedience regarding the royal decree would be considered an act of war against the king.
Finished with her perusal of the Montgomery clan, she reclined on the ground, closing her eyes briefly against the wash of sunshine. When she reopened them, she focused on the blue of the sky and the softly drifting clouds.
Here she could escape for just a little while, silence surrounding her, but in the deep recesses of her mind, she could conjure the memory of what music sounded like, and as she stared at the yawning blue canvas above her, she could swear that music danced through her ears.
“Look up the hill, to your right,” Teague said sharply.
Graeme yanked his head up and then focused in the distance where Teague directed as the drawbridge slowly began to grind its way down.
He almost missed the slight figure and then when his gaze swept back over it again, he frowned and turned back to his brother, wondering why on earth Teague would have called his attention to it.
“Is that a person?” Teague demanded. “What’s he doing up there alone on the hill?”
“Afraid she’s going to come down here and knock you off your horse?” Bowen drawled.
“She?” Teague said in disbelief.
“ ’Tis a lass,” Bowen said, nodding his head in the direction of the distant yellowish blob.
Graeme strained forward again. “How can you tell at this distance?”
Bowen gave them both mocking glances and then shook his head in dismay. “Think you any men run around in yellow dresses?”
Teague lifted his eyebrow. “Well, ’tis the Armstrongs, so I suppose anything could be possible.”
The men around them laughed, and then the drawbridge hit the ground with a thump, stirring up dust around the horses. When Graeme glanced up the hill again, he could no longer see the girl. How had she disappeared so quickly?
He urged his horse ahead, focusing his attention forward, ready for the impending confrontation. It was the truth he’d rather face battle outnumbered three to one than have to go meekly into the Armstrong keep and join himself to this clan in marriage.
It appalled him on every level. His da would be turning over in his grave. It was a dark day for Montgomerys everywhere and it would be a day long remembered in their history. If he had his way, the entire event would be stricken from any oral or written accounts henceforth.
But of course he couldn’t very well do something so permanent with a wife. As tempting as it may be.
He rode into the courtyard to see Tavis Armstrong standing beside the Earl of Dunbar. Graeme wasn’t startled to see the king’s man there, though he’d honestly expected the king himself to attend since this was of such importance to him.
Graeme reined in and sat astride his horse, staring down at the chieftain of the Armstrong clan. Tavis stared back, and then beside him appeared his two sons, though Graeme didn’t know which was which. The last time he’d encountered the Armstrong whelps, he’d sent them packing after a brief skirmish in the dead zone—the small plot of land that lay between the Montgomery and Armstrong borders. It belonged to the McAlpins, but they’d long since abandoned it due to the proximity to the warring clans. It was a tiny sliver of land, a mere fingerling of their holding, and it was no big thing to keep to the south and away from the feud.
Tavis flinched first, a fact that brought Graeme satisfaction. He’d take a victory no matter how insignificant. He might have been forced to venture meekly onto Armstrong land, but he damn sure wouldn’t allow any Armstrong to intimidate him.
Tavis took a step forward, cleared his throat, and said, “Welcome to our keep, Laird Montgomery. You and your brothers are welcome inside. Your men will find accommodations in the outer perimeter where tents have been erected for their use. Food and drink will be provided for all.”
For a moment, Graeme didn’t speak. Then he glanced to his brothers and gave the signal to dismount. Graeme swung himself over his horse and dropped down.
Tavis motioned several of his men to take the horses and lead them to shelter in the stables.
And there they stood. Montgomery warriors face-to-face with Armstrong warriors. They bristled with dislike. The Armstrongs looked as though they’d just welcomed the devil into their sanctuary and well, maybe they had.