by Maya Banks
He pushed himself to his feet and held down a hand for her. She glanced curiously up at him, but didn’t put her hand into his.
“Walk with me, Eveline.”
She hesitated a long moment and then slowly extended her hand so he could help her up. Relief overwhelmed him. She wasn’t turning away from him. At least not yet.
He assisted her to her feet, glanced back to see where his horse was grazing, and then set off in the opposite direction, so the horse’s presence wouldn’t be unsettling to her.
Tucking her arm underneath his, he guided her through the meadow and up the incline where a bluff overlooked the boundary of Montgomery and Armstrong land. He didn’t miss the wistful way in which she stared at the river that snaked through the small valley, marking the line between the two clans’ holdings.
Then he turned so they were facing each other, but he kept her hands in his, not wanting separation between them.
Gently he turned her hands so they were palm up, the backs against his palms, exposing the raw and angry flesh. He lifted one and pressed his mouth to the abused skin and kissed every inch of flesh, soothed over every blistered and torn area.
Then he lifted her other hand and did the same.
When he was done, he rested her hands over his chest, cupped in his hold, his fingers circling her wrists. He made certain she was looking at him before he spoke.
“I understand why you want to go home. I don’t even blame you. You’ve not been treated kindly by my clan.”
Hurt flashed in her eyes and her bottom lip quivered, as if she was trying hard not to cry again.
“I allowed them to make a fool of me,” she said, finally breaking her silence.
“Nay,” he refuted forcefully. “You came to this clan willing to set aside your hatred or fear. You embraced a marriage that was forced on you and you’ve determined that you’ll make the best of a very difficult situation. You were torn from the bosom of your family and everything that was familiar and dear to you. And yet you didn’t allow that to cloud your judgment of your new clan. ’Tis more than I can say for any member of my clan and even myself. We were wrong, Eveline. We are wrong, and I want very much to have the opportunity to right this wrong against you.”
“You cannot make them accept me,” she said in a low voice that he had to strain to hear. “You cannot change what’s in their hearts. I thought …” She sighed. “I thought I could if I just tried hard enough, if I made the effort. I was wrong.”
The defeat in her words tore at him. He’d never felt so helpless and it wasn’t a pleasant feeling. He was used to issuing an order and for that order to be followed, no question, no argument. He had been faulty in thinking it was as simple as ordering his people to accept his wife. He was used to being heeded, his word not being challenged. Now he faced the seemingly insurmountable task of changing the thinking of an entire clan and ridding them of hatred that had existed for countless years.
“Eveline,” he began, his voice breaking as he tried to gain control of his emotions. “I was wrong in thinking that this would be a simple matter. I am to blame for not handling the situation with more thought and regard.”
He took a deep breath and plunged forward, his heart beating against his chest like a drum.
“I want this marriage. I … value … this marriage. I value you. I was wrong to think the mindsets that are so deeply rooted could be changed in a matter of days. But I don’t want you to give up, because I’m not giving up. We will make this work and I want you to believe in me if nothing else. Your place is here. With me, at my side. I need you to believe that in your heart, for it is what is in mine.”
Eveline stared back at Graeme, her pulse racing. His gaze was completely earnest and in his eyes she saw something more, something she’d never imagined seeing in a warrior such as Graeme.
She saw pleading and vulnerability.
“I want to be here with you, too,” she whispered, the words catching and scratching against her throat. “But they don’t want me. They hate me. They’ll always hate me for who I am and I cannot change the circumstances of my birth. I wouldn’t even if I could. I love my family. I’m proud of my heritage. ’Tis nothing for me to feel shame over.”
Graeme started to speak, but she extricated her hand from his hold and gently pressed a finger to his lips to silence him.
“I looked to this marriage with a mixture of emotions. I felt relief that I would be forever safe from an arrangement with Ian McHugh. I looked at you and saw someone I felt safe with, even though you were my clan’s most hated enemy.
“But I was also fearful because I knew such a match was impossible. And I was right. Your clan will never accept me. You’ll forever be at odds with them over me. A clan divided will fall on the battlefield. If you do not have their full support, how can you depend on them to do their duty when the time comes to protect your people?”
She sucked in a deep breath and plunged ahead while she still had the courage to say all that was in her heart.
“And yet I also was hopeful because I saw an opportunity to stop cowering behind a falsehood that had captured me in its grasp. One lie had led to another until it was impossible to escape the deception I had begun. Here, I’d hoped that I could be a normal lass with a husband who was kind and that eventually I could have children and forge a life beyond what was my reality in my own clan.
“But like you, I thought it would be a simple matter. I truly thought that once your clan saw that I was willing to set aside differences and that I was willing to work to gain their acceptance and regard, that past hatreds would be forgotten. It was a foolish thought. It’s not possible any more than it would have been possible for my clan to accept a Montgomery in their midst.”
Graeme framed her face in his hands, his expression fierce, his eyes blazing with determination.
“ ’Tis not impossible. Give me time, Eveline. I cannot let you go, and yet I do not want you to be unhappy. I vow that you will always have the unwavering support of me and my brothers. In time, the clan will move beyond their current mindset. ’Tis too soon to judge. We’ve both admitted that it takes time to change the minds and hearts of others. All I ask is that you trust me to protect you.”
His grip tightened and he lowered his face until they were eye to eye and his gaze burned over her skin.
“Give me a chance, Eveline. ’Tis all I ask. Give me more time and if you still feel as you do come winter, then I’ll return you to your family and ask no more of you. I’ll take you to your father myself and I’ll vow before God to uphold our treaty. I’ll hold our marriage vows firm, but will allow you to live apart from me.”
She swallowed, the ache in her heart growing. She wanted nothing more than to remain with Graeme. She thought she’d even grown to love him in the short time they’d been together, but was it enough? Could she ever hope to gain his love and would that love be enough to overshadow the rest of the clan’s treatment of her?
But what then awaited her at home? She would be forced to explain all to her parents, to her brothers, and to her kin. They would be happy that she wasn’t as affected by the accident as she’d led them to believe, but then would come the disappointment over her deception.
What was left for her in her own clan? She wanted a husband and children. She wanted to break free of the life she’d been forced to live due to her own fears and lies. If those were the things she most wanted, then she’d be forever denying herself the possibility of love, children, and having her own status in a clan were she to go back to the Armstrongs.
She broke free of Graeme’s grasp and turned sideways to him, staring over the rolling terrain. For so long fear had ruled her existence. Fear, deception, lies. It was no way to live.
At least here, everything was honest. Nay, they didn’t like her. They didn’t accept her. But could she change that? Was she willing to travel a very difficult path if in the end her reward was the eventual acceptance of her new clan?
She wanted
her mother, but she was no longer a young lass attached to her mother’s skirts. Her mother was a very wise woman, and Eveline wanted her counsel now more than ever.
But it was time for her to stand on her own two feet, to stop hiding behind her clan and the protection they’d always offered. Nay, things wouldn’t be easy here, but she wasn’t willing to give up so easily just because she’d been made a fool of.
She was tired of running. Tired of hiding and of seeking the protection of others. Perhaps it was high time she took a stand, and not behind her husband, forcing him to go against his own kin in defense of her.
She turned, fully intending to tell Graeme of her decision when a flash of movement caught her eye. She frowned and stared beyond Graeme to see a man on horseback coming just over the rise. He wore a helmet that made seeing his face impossible.
To her utter horror, he raised a crossbow and urged his horse forward.
She screamed a warning to Graeme, but he’d already heard the hoofbeats and turned rapidly, drawing his sword.
He yelled something. She could not see his lips, but the vibrations buzzed through her ears. Then he shoved her so she fell forward to the ground.
Eveline scrambled up, fearing the worst, her heart in her throat. The horseman pulled up a distance away and sent an arrow flying in Graeme’s direction.
“Nay!” she screamed.
Graeme flung himself to the side, sword still in hand, but the arrow caught him in the shoulder. He hit the ground with a thud and his head cracked against one of the jagged outcroppings that were scattered over the meadow.
She stood, terrified, staring at the horseman, knowing she could do nothing to prevent her own death. But her first instinct was to protect Graeme from further harm.
Screaming for help the entire way, she flew to Graeme, yanking at his heavy sword that now lay beside him. His eyes were closed and blood was smeared on the rock. The arrow protruded from his left shoulder and she knew it had nearly gone through because only a small part of the arrow remained outside his flesh.
Terror lending her strength, she pulled at the sword, managing to lift it high as she scrambled over his body to place herself between him and the intruder. The screams tore from her throat, painful and raw. One word over and over. “Help! Help!”
The horseman seemed spooked by her screams and he rapidly reined in his horse, turning him in the opposite direction, but not before Eveline saw the ornately decorated scabbard at his side.
It was unmistakable, the design that her father had commissioned for every senior Armstrong warrior. She went numb as realization barreled through her panicked senses. It was an Armstrong warrior who’d just attacked her husband, and he was even now riding as fast as his horse could run back toward Armstrong land.
CHAPTER 35
Eveline dropped the sword and turned to Graeme, who was still unconscious on the ground. She fell to her knees, hunched over him, unsure of what to do, whether she should touch him.
She put her hand to his head and gently turned it. All the breath left her body when she saw the gash where he’d hit the rock. Blood coated her fingers and she drew them away, staring in horror.
Oh God. Don’t die.
She wasn’t sure if she said the words or just thought them, but inside her head she was still screaming over and over.
What could she do? It was obvious no one had heard her cries for help. She looked back in the direction of the keep, but saw no one arriving to aid her. What if the archer came back? She couldn’t leave Graeme and yet she couldn’t lift him to get him back to the keep.
Her gaze lit on his horse, who’d evidently been spooked by what had occurred. He had run a short distance, but even now was making his way to his fallen master. His gait was agitated and he seemed nervous and wild-eyed.
The mere thought of trying to ride Graeme’s horse sent cold terror streaking through her veins, and yet she knew she had no other choice. It would take too long to run back to the keep. She couldn’t leave Graeme unprotected for that long. She had to bring help or he’d die here in the meadow.
Summoning every ounce of her courage, she ran toward the horse. But he shied and scrambled back a few paces as she approached, forcing her to slow to a walk. She held out her hand, murmuring soothing nonsense in an attempt to calm him.
After a moment she was able to draw close enough to take the reins, but he immediately shied again, and she nearly lost her grip as the reins sawed across her torn hands. Sheer determination enabled her to hold on when every instinct screamed at her to drop the reins and move as far away from the horse as possible.
“I need your help,” she said in a desperate voice. “Please, please let me mount.”
She knew her obvious fear wasn’t helping calm the horse any. Before he could bolt or she lost her courage, she grasped the saddle and swung herself up, her skirts tangling as she sought to right herself.
Grasping tight hold of the reins, she dug her heels into the horse’s flanks and urged him forward. He rocketed forward, nearly unseating her, but she was determined to remain astride. Faster and faster she urged him, until they were streaking dangerously over the terrain and she was clinging to his back in a desperate bid not to fall off.
“Faster, please,” she whispered, her heart nearly bursting from her chest.
Never before had she been so terrified. Flashes of her last ride blew through her memory. The reckless fall she’d taken in the storm. Her terror at the idea of dying and never being found or of her kin coming across her broken body at the bottom of the ravine.
But she swallowed back her fear and focused on her goal of summoning aid for Graeme.
As soon as she neared the keep, she began yelling for Bowen and Teague. They’d help her. They’d not turn a deaf ear to her screams.
The gate, which had remained open because Graeme had been out riding, loomed, and she lowered her head until she was hugging the horse’s neck and urged him on faster, desperate cries tearing from her throat until each one sent agony through her vocal cords.
She thundered across the bridge and into the courtyard where Bowen, Teague, and dozens of other warriors had rushed upon hearing her cries for help. She knew not if the horse would even stop, and she realized that though she’d made it back to the keep, she could still die if the horse threw her.
The horse skidded to a sudden stop when Bowen and Teague ran forward. She closed her eyes and held on for dear life, but the sudden stop propelled her right over the horse’s head.
She landed with a thump that shook her very bones. Pain screamed through her body, and she couldn’t breathe. The air had been knocked solidly from her and she lay there, gasping and wheezing.
Bowen appeared over her followed by Teague. They were all talking at once and she couldn’t even manage to focus on their lips to know what they said. The one thought that consumed her was that she had to go back to Graeme. She must bring help for him.
“Graeme!” she shouted, hoping to make herself heard above the din.
Bowen reached down, grasped her face, and forced her to look directly at him. His expression was terrible, his eyes so dark that it made her shiver.
“Eveline, tell me what has happened! Are you hurt? Where is Graeme?”
“Archer,” she gasped out, still unable to draw a full breath. “Graeme was shot in the meadow. Hit his head when he fell. I had to leave him. I couldn’t lift him. I had to leave him to summon aid!”
“Shhh,” Bowen soothed. “You did right. Can you stand? Are you hurt anywhere?”
Ignoring the pain that wracked her bruised body, she struggled upward, already reaching for the reins of Graeme’s horse, who stood to the side, his nostrils flaring as he huffed and snorted.
Teague made a grab for her. “Nay, Eveline! You’ll stay here. Tell us where to find Graeme. We’ll go for him.”
Bowen was already shouting orders to the men and they scrambled to mount their horses. Eveline ignored Teague’s order and shook off his restraining h
and.
“I’ll show you,” she croaked out. “Please, you have to help him!”
She tried to remount the horse, but lacked the strength. Bowen caught her, and when she thought he’d physically restrain her and prevent her from mounting, he pushed upward, helping her gain her seat instead.
Without waiting, she urged the horse back through the gate and over the bridge. She raced across the meadow, uncaring of the pain or fear it caused her. Graeme needed her. He could be dying even now.
This time when she approached she was able to better control the horse and was able to slow him. Still, she was out of the saddle and stumbling to the ground before he’d come to a complete stop. She ran to Graeme’s still body and hovered anxiously over him as she waited for the others to dismount.
Teague and Bowen pushed in, their expressions grim and worried as they examined Graeme. They looked at the wound on his head and then inspected the arrow deeply embedded in his flesh.
“He’s not dead,” Eveline said fiercely. She shook her head vigorously. “He’s not dead!”
Teague lifted her and put his arm around her to support her. “Of course not, Eveline,” he said. “We’ll take him back to the keep. The healer has already been summoned and will be waiting to tend to his wounds when we return.”
“But how?” she asked, peering anxiously around Teague to where the others gathered around Graeme.
Teague pulled her back and stared firmly into her eyes. “We’ll fashion a litter and carry him back. You’re not to worry. I don’t want you riding his horse again. You could have killed yourself. You’ll ride back with me because you’re not fit to walk the distance.”
She shook her head in vehement refusal. “I won’t leave him.”
Teague started to argue with her, but she looked away and then pushed around him so she wouldn’t see what it was he said.
She hurried back to Graeme, who was being rolled onto a makeshift litter that the men would carry back to the keep. As soon as they hoisted him up, she fell into place beside him, reaching for his hand.