Home > Never Seduce a Scot (The Montgomerys and Armstrongs #1)(17)

Never Seduce a Scot (The Montgomerys and Armstrongs #1)(17)
Author: Maya Banks

Her brow furrowed deeper and she gave him a fierce glare. Then she shook her head and raised her hands as if to say, Who is to know?

She put her finger back to his lips, but by now he knew what it was she wanted. With a sigh, he led her to a chair by the fire and motioned for her to sit. He dragged the bench by the window across the floor so he could sit near her.

They were side by side and before he could think of anything further to say, she stood and turned her chair, positioning it so she was facing him. Then she settled back down and leaned forward, her eyes focused intently on him.

He’d never felt so unsettled. His tongue felt tied and he had no idea what to say to the lass. It would be so much easier if she spoke, because then she could ask questions. Aye, he could answer questions easily enough, but to just come up with a topic?

He wasn’t someone who spoke overly much and was never one for casual conversations. He was more to the point. His brothers often teasingly said that dragging more than a few words from him was like trying to push a rope through the eye of a needle.

So … he’d talk about marriage. Since the wedding would take place tomorrow, he could only assume that was why she was here in his chamber. Perhaps to allay her fears? Find out if he was some horrible abuser of women? Who knew?

He cleared his throat, hating how unsure of this entire situation he was. Give him a sword and someone to kill. He could handle that nicely. But a woman sitting in front of him, staring avidly while waiting for him to speak? Not exactly the subject of any training he and his men had ever endured.

“You understand that tomorrow we will wed,” he began gruffly.

She smiled and nodded.

Smiling was good. At least she hadn’t run from his chamber like the hounds of hell were nipping at her heals. But that still didn’t tell him she fully understood the ramifications of their marriage.

“Do you also understand that as soon as the ceremony has been completed, we will leave your … this keep … and travel back to Montgomery lands?”

Her expression sobered, but she nodded again.

“ ’Tis the truth I have no idea what to do with you, Eveline Armstrong,” he admitted. “I had no plans for a wife yet. And when I did, I would of course have chosen a lass from my own clan. Someone who was well accustomed to life as a Montgomery and someone well versed in the running of a keep. My men …”

He broke off for a moment because she was cocking her head back and forth all the while her gaze was riveted … on his mouth. But there was such an expression of—pleasure?—on her face that it took him aback.

He cleared his throat again to continue, choosing to ignore her odd behavior. “My men and I train daily. I have other matters to attend to as chieftain. My clansmen come to me to settle disputes, to air grievances, to ask for guidance.”

Her look turned to one of impatience and she shook her head. She made a motion, a wide circling motion as if to encompass the entire keep and then gave him another impatient look as if to remind him that she was a chieftain’s daughter and well knew the duties of the laird.

Graeme sighed. So she didn’t want a rundown of his duties as laird. Not that he blamed her. It wasn’t scintillating conversation at best, but then he didn’t like lengthy conversations.

“What would you like to discuss, Eveline?”

Which sounded ridiculous, given that she couldn’t speak, but it was obvious she had no liking for the topics he’d broached.

Her smile returned and she leaned forward and directed one finger at him and then pressed it into his shoulder.

“Me?” he asked incredulously. “You want to talk about me?”

He couldn’t quite keep the horror from his tone or expression. What was he supposed to say? He felt as though he were on trial. Set before the king and court and a bevy of accusers, forced to give an accounting of himself before God.

How could she make him feel so bloody insecure?

She smiled hugely then, her entire face lighting up, and she nodded vigorously.

God’s teeth, he needed to have the lass gone from his bedchamber. This was madness. All of it.

But he couldn’t look at the sparkle in her eyes or her imploring gaze and keep the hardness that usually surrounded his heart and mind. What man in all of Scotland could sit before this beguiling beauty and possibly tell her no?

“What do you want to know?” he asked gruffly. Then realizing how stupid it was to question a woman who had no way of responding, he shook his head. “Never mind that. It was senseless on my part.”

Still, she stared at him expectantly, waiting for what he’d volunteer. And he had no idea what to tell her about himself. He didn’t sit around evaluating himself, his choices or his life. He just … was. He was chieftain to his people and with that came great responsibility. He didn’t have time to immerse himself in his thoughts or to ponder what manner of man he was.

Perhaps all she needed was reassuring. It occurred to Graeme that he’d assured her father and even her mother that his intentions toward Eveline were not dishonorable, but Eveline herself hadn’t been made aware of those same vows.

Aye, that was probably what she wanted to hear and it was something he could comfortably discuss.

“Eveline,” he began carefully, wanting to make sure he had her full attention. But he needn’t have worried because she was still staring avidly at his face. Indeed, her gaze had never left him. He’d never felt so scrutinized. “I want you to know that I do not hold you accountable for the sins of your family.”

She frowned—nay, she scowled—her face drawing into a ferocious expression that amused him for its cuteness.

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