She took in a deep breath and then focused on both of the brothers, praying they wouldn’t hate her for what she must confess.
“The man who shot Graeme was wearing a scabbard that my father had fashioned for his men. It’s ornately designed and unmistakably a symbol of the Armstrong name.”
Bowen reared back and she flinched, almost as if she expected him to lash out at her. Maybe she’d expected it. She turned her face away, determined to protect the one part of her that wasn’t severely bruised.
She sat there shaking, eyes closed as she waited. Then a warm hand cupped her chin and turned her in a not-so-gentle fashion so she faced Bowen. Teague was clearly appalled and her gaze skittered quickly away from him to settle on Bowen as she awaited his reaction.
When she saw the fury on his face, she started to shut her eyes again, but he gave her a quick shake, forcing her to continue looking at him.
“My God, did you think I’d strike you?” Bowen asked, his face drawn in utter incredulity. “Did you think I would seek revenge upon you for what was done by your kin?”
Tears gathered in her eyes. They leaked down her cheeks and she raised a shaking hand to wipe them away, but Bowen was there first, moving his hand from her chin to gently wipe at the trail of dampness. She glanced back to Teague, realizing that he was appalled, not because of what she’d confessed, but because she’d feared reprisal. “I’m sorry,” she said, the words difficult to say with her throat so raw.
Bowen’s shoulders heaved as he took a deep breath. Then he glanced back at his brother and returned his gaze to Eveline.
“Are you certain it was one of your father’s men?”
She nodded. “I could not see his face. He wore a battle helmet. But he came from the direction of the Armstrong border and he returned the same way when he fled. I do not know what he intended. He stopped when I began screaming and when I picked up Graeme’s sword. Then he turned his horse and rode fast toward Armstrong land. But I saw the scabbard. ’Tis a mixture of metal and leather and only the more senior of his soldiers are given the honor of wearing them. They are reserved for those who’ve proven themselves in battle. ’Tis a costly thing to have fashioned, so they are coveted by our clan.”
Teague swore, turning his face in midstream so Eveline could not see all of what he said.
“What will happen?” she choked out. “ ’Tis an act of war they’ve performed. If you retaliate, it will break the treaty and both clans will be branded outlaws by the king.”
Bowen cupped her cheek and then dropped his hand down to collect hers. He squeezed her fingers in a comforting gesture before he spoke.
“The most important matter here is for you not to fear me or Teague. We will not hurt you, Eveline. It took great courage for you to tell us the truth in this matter. Most would have pretended ignorance or simply said they saw naught. We’ve seen the loyalty you’ve given Graeme and to our clan. No one will blame you for what has been wrought by your father.”
She pressed her lips together, anguish welling from deep within her chest.
“I do not understand why they have done this thing. I would never have believed that my father could act with such dishonor.”
Teague frowned again and pursed his lips in thought. “ ’Tis confusing to me why, if your father sought to murder Graeme, did he send a man who wore something that so clearly designated him as an Armstrong soldier. The manner in which the man attacked would lead one to believe that he wanted it done so no blame could be placed on the Armstrong clan, and yet the man wore the scabbard you described. If he cared not who knew of his intention, why not lead his entire army against our keep? Why launch such a cowardly attack? The warrior must have had to have lain in wait for days for the right opportunity to present itself.”
Bowen’s brow crinkled and he sat back, taking his hand from Eveline’s. “Do you think it was only made to look as though the attack came from an Armstrong soldier?”
Eveline’s eyes widened. “Who would do such a thing?”
“Anyone who is wary of the two most powerful clans in the highlands uniting,” Teague said.
Hope flickered in Eveline’s heart. “So you think it could have been someone posing as an Armstrong soldier?”
“ ’Tis possible,” Bowen conceded. “But how would he lay claim to a scabbard you say is only given to the most worthy Armstrong warriors?”
Eveline nibbled at her bottom lip, her face drawn into a tight frown. “I know not.”
“It would appear that your father has some questions to answer,” Teague said, his expression grim.
Eveline glanced nervously at Graeme, whose eyes were still closed. “What do we do, then?”
“We wait until Graeme has regained his senses and is well enough to decide the matter,” Bowen said. “In the meantime, we’ll add to our border patrol and send out a contingent of our best warriors to scour the countryside for a lone soldier wearing an Armstrong scabbard.”
“Aye,” Teague agreed. “When Graeme is well enough to hear an accounting, he will decide our course of action. A blood treaty is not to be taken lightly, and if your father did violate our peace agreement, it will mean war, no matter that the king forbids it. We’ll not tolerate such an act of treachery against our laird.”
Eveline lowered her gaze, but Bowen reached forward to touch her arm, directing her attention back to him.
“I know it hurts you, Eveline. ’Tis your clan, your beloved ones. ’Tis only because we have doubts that we do not ride even now on the Armstrong clan. But we’ll further investigate the matter and await Graeme’s word. He’ll want to confront your father, regardless, to hear his word on the matter.”