Graeme would be furious and the last thing she wanted was for the other members of her clan to see that she couldn’t even handle the task of bringing in wood without it tearing up her tender, dainty hands.
Her overtunic had sleeves long enough that they’d hide her hands. She hadn’t worn one over her underdress this morn, but she’d be certain to don it so that no one would see the damage she’d done to her palms and fingers.
For now, she had to find a place to wash in private. A glance outside told her the sun was already peeking over the horizon, which meant her husband would be making an appearance shortly.
She ducked out of the hall after thanking the young man who’d taken over the task of lighting the fires and then she headed toward the guard tower.
’Twas an inconvenience to have to go through a guard every time she wanted to walk down to the river, but she supposed she could appreciate Graeme’s dedication to the safety of his people.
She called up to the guard, sure she was bellowing since she put all her strength behind the call. He stuck his head out, frowned as though she were completely daft, and then shook his head.
A moment later, a rider appeared, looking none too pleased that he was to accompany Eveline outside the gate. He likely had to miss breaking his fast.
“I’m only going to the river to wash my hands,” she said to the rider. “There’s no reason for you to accompany me. The guard can see clear to the path I’m taking.”
The rider didn’t look impressed with her speech and he ignored her, riding forward and then looking at her expectantly.
Disgruntled with his rudeness, she took out, walking at a sedate pace across the dew dampened ground toward the river. There was a distinct chill to the air, but she enjoyed it, invigorated after the exhausting chore of wrestling with the logs for the fire.
Once she reached the bank where she’d taken her impromptu swim just days before, she knelt and stuck her hands into the chilly water.
Blood had already started to dry over the places where the skin was abraded and had broken. The water was a shock to the tender areas and she winced as she set about picking the splinters from the wounds.
It was then she noticed the blisters from the day before. Two had broken and weeped clear liquid, but there were still several tight pockets that hadn’t yet burst. She sighed, knowing that she’d likely added several more this morning.
As she rose, her stomach growled and then clenched into a knot that had her wavering unsteadily. She hadn’t supped the evening before and now she was late to break her fast. If she hurried, she might still be in time.
“Where the hell is my wife?” Graeme demanded, his voice booming over the hall.
One of his soldiers who was tending the fires looked uneasily in Graeme’s direction and Graeme latched onto that expression and strode forward.
“Have you seen your mistress this morning?”
Anton swallowed nervously. “Aye, Laird. She was …” He winced and then continued on in a rush. “She was bringing in logs for the fires in the hall. I stopped her, of course, and told her it was my duty to attend the fires. She seemed relieved, but then she hurried out and I haven’t seen her since.”
“She was doing what?” Graeme roared.
Anton flinched. “I could not believe it either. The lass had no business trying to lug in the wood, but she had five logs lined up for the first fire before I came into the hall.”
Graeme closed his eyes and shook his head. This was nonsense. Complete and utter nonsense and no matter what Rorie said or how valid her argument was, there was no way he was allowing this to continue.
He was prevented from demanding an accounting from every single woman in the keep when Eveline hurried in, her cheeks pale from the cold. Several tendrils of her hair had come loose from her braid and they framed her face. Despite her harried expression, she still managed to take Graeme’s breath away.
“Oh, good morn, Graeme,” she said breathlessly. She dipped a curtsy and then hurried on past him toward the table where food was already being served.
He blinked and swiveled so he could follow her progress across the room. She sat next to his chair and smiled at his brothers, who’d already taken their seats. Only Rorie was missing, but then the lass didn’t always come to break her fast with the others.
Before he left to go sit with her and his brothers, he turned back to Anton with a quick frown. “Do not allow this to happen again. You make certain she doesn’t try to carry wood inside this keep even if you have to stack it inside. She isn’t to light these fires.”
Anton nodded his agreement and Graeme left to go sit next to his wife.
She smiled brilliantly at him as he took his seat by her side. Despite her seeming cheer, he could see the dark smudges underneath her eyes and it made him angry all over again that she was working so hard to find acceptance and his clan was being ridiculously thickheaded in their resistance.
Who could possibly resist a smile such as hers? Furthermore, how could anyone spend even a moment in Eveline’s presence and think she was anything like her kin? The Armstrongs were a bloodthirsty, savage lot who thought nothing of killing others to suit their purposes. Eveline was a tenderhearted lass who didn’t have a mean bone in her body.
Except that she had taken a sword to the women of his clan and had run them all out of the keep.
He frowned over that matter. The lass had been under duress and she could hardly be blamed for taking a stand in the face of such mean-spirited insults.
He fully intended to take up the matter of all this work she was performing over the morning meal, but she kept up a lively conversation with his brothers, though he had no idea of what the discussion was about, exactly. He wasn’t sure his brothers had any more idea than he did, but they indulged her and responded in kind with a ready smile.