She hurried from the warmth of his body and the furs and pulled on one of her simple day dresses. She took a brush to her hair to work the tangles and would have retreated to the far corner of the room, but she looked up and saw Bowen and Teague, accompanied by Father Drummond, enter the chamber. The priest had a scroll and quill and ink, and Eveline realized that Graeme meant to dictate the message to her father.
She went to Graeme’s side and touched his arm. “I would like to go below stairs and breathe a bit of fresh air. My muscles need stretching.”
Graeme regarded her a long moment, and then his shoulders heaved in a sigh. Then he nodded. “Do not be gone overlong. I’ll send a summons down when I’ve finished with my brothers and Father Drummond.”
She nodded, her heart heavier with each breath. She didn’t want to be about when he transcribed the message that might well send the two clans she called her own into battle against one another.
Graeme squeezed her hand, and then she eased away, setting the brush down before exiting the chamber.
It wasn’t a total untruth she’d told Graeme. She was desperate to leave the suffocation of the chamber if only for a little while.
She stretched her arms and worked her shoulders as she descended the stairs to the hall. Despite having eaten a bit earlier, she went to the kitchens in search of a piece of bread or bit of cheese to nibble on. She was still hungry.
Mary was only too happy to accommodate her after demanding to know if her laird knew she was below stairs. Eveline gratefully took bread and cheese, and after conversing with Mary for several minutes, she exited the kitchens and stepped into the courtyard.
Dusk was rapidly falling, ushering in cooler breezes as the sun slid completely out of sight over the horizon. The entire land was bathed in purple and gray hues, and the air was still. Most of the clansmen had retired to their cottages and were preparing for the evening meal.
The torches that lit the guard tower threw shadows on the wall of the keep. Eveline closed her eyes and breathed deeply of the spring-scented air.
’Twas so peaceful. A time for gathering in the evening to tell stories, speak of the day’s events, and share a good meal.
But she knew that the calm was deceptive because even now, the Montgomery soldiers were preparing for war.
The ground vibrated under her feet and she turned rapidly in time to see a Montgomery herald on horseback ride at a fast pace toward the gate. He wore a cloak bearing the Montgomery colors, but a white banner of truce was attached to the horse’s mane.
A chill scuttled up her spine until she shivered. Dread centered in her belly, making her wish she hadn’t eaten the bread and cheese Mary had offered.
A touch to her shoulder had her jumping in fright. She whirled around to see Kierstan standing in the fading light.
“My pardon for startling you, my lady.”
Eveline took a step back, but focused on Kierstan’s lips, not wanting to miss anything the other woman would say.
“I came in search of you when I heard you’d awakened. The hot soaking soothed your aches before and I thought to offer you my services to prepare another soak for you in the bathhouse.”
Eveline’s eyes widened at what seemed to be an offering of an olive branch from the woman who’d caused her no end of grief. Kierstan looked sincere. Moreover, she looked … contrite.
“ ’Tis the least I can do,” Kierstan said, her expression sad. “I’ve wronged you badly and I’d like to make amends.”
Knowing this was yet another opportunity to mend some bridges, Eveline nodded and Kierstan smiled, seeming relieved by Eveline’s agreement.
“Come this way. We’ll walk around the keep. It will be shorter than navigating the hall. ’Tis filling up with those seeking the evening meal. I’ll send someone to the laird’s chamber to give him word of your whereabouts so he does not worry.”
“Thank you,” Eveline said with a smile. “A hot soak would be heavenly right now. I’ve been abed for far too long and my body aches.”
Kierstan tucked Eveline’s hand in hers and guided her through the now empty courtyard and around the side of the keep in the direction of the bathhouse. They were in the narrow passage between the stone skirt and the keep walls when someone stepped from the shadows.
Eveline started to scream a warning to Kierstan when a fist met with Eveline’s jaw, sending her tumbling to the ground. So stunned was she that all she could do was lie there, holding her face in her palm.
The man bent down over her, his hand twisting in her hair. He yanked upward, forcing her to her feet, and before she could react, his fist flew at her temple. Pain exploded in her head, and then the world went black.
CHAPTER 41
Graeme frowned when several long minutes elapsed after he sent Bowen down to fetch Eveline. Growing restless, he pushed himself from his bed and stood, gingerly working his injured shoulder in a tight roll.
It still pained him greatly, but he could move it, and more important, the wound had sealed itself. The stitches could be taken out in a few more days.
His head still hurt if he moved too quickly, but the great knot that had risen had gradually gone down, and there was just a small scab over the wound to denote the injury.
He could use a bath himself. It was a wonder Eveline had been able to rest beside him. He probably smelled worse than a rotting carcass.
It was likely what Eveline was doing at any rate. She did enjoy a hot soak a few days ago, and she was likely still sore from all the bruising.
Deciding to give her a little more time before he started demanding to know her whereabouts, he set about washing himself with cloths and water from the basin. He even used a bit of Eveline’s soap, deciding it certainly couldn’t hurt to alleviate the stench of sweat and blood and illness.
Feeling refreshed after cleaning himself, he put on clean clothing and decided he’d go after his wife himself. All the better if he just happened to find her soaking naked in a tub of water.
Though he certainly wasn’t up to loving and neither was his wee bruised wife, he certainly wasn’t above enjoying the view.
With a grin, he started down the stairs, purposely putting the matter of the message he’d sent to Armstrong out of his mind. It did no good to dwell on it for now. Armstrong would either send a message back or he wouldn’t. All Graeme could do was wait to see if Tavis Armstrong would be truthful or deceitful.
The hall was curiously devoid of people at a time when the evening meal should most certainly be served. He frowned when he realized that food was set out on the table and in some cases, even looked to be half eaten. It was as if the hall had emptied all of a sudden, right in the midst of the meal.
“Bowen! Teague!”
Receiving no answer, Graeme turned in the direction of the back entrance, his desire to ensure that Eveline was all right suddenly overwhelming him. He hurried out and broke into a run toward the bathhouse. He nearly ran into Teague as Teague came barreling out.
Graeme caught him by the shoulders, ignoring the pain in his shoulder at the sudden, forceful movement.
“What is amiss?” he demanded. “Where is Eveline?”
“I do not know,” Teague said grimly. “We’re searching for her now.”
“What?” Graeme roared. “Why has no one summoned me? Why has no one told me of this?”
“We only just discovered that she was missing,” Teague said. “I was on my way to summon you. Bowen and the others have spread out over the keep and the area surrounding the keep and are searching for her now.”
“Tell me everything,” Graeme ground out. “When was she last seen? Who saw her? And how long has she been missing?”
“She went into the kitchen and spoke with Mary a few moments. Mary gave her bread and cheese, and then Eveline left the kitchen. No one saw her after that. Rorie is searching the upstairs now. The women are looking close to the keep and the soldiers are searching the entire outer perimeter. We’ve sent word to the men patrolling the borders, asking if they’ve seen anything. We’ll find her, Graeme. She can’t have gone far.”
“People don’t just disappear,” Graeme snarled. “I want to speak to every single member of this clan. Someone had to have seen her. Moreover, someone has to know what has happened to her.”
Eveline came to gasping awareness in a nightmare she couldn’t sort out. She was bouncing painfully up and down and the ground was weaving in and out of her line of vision.
It took several moments before she realized she was facedown over a horse, or at least the person she was draped across was astride a horse and she was flung over his lap like a sack of barley.
Nausea assailed her and she had to swallow back the bile working its way from her stomach and into her throat. The constant jostling was causing the reaction and there was little she could do about it.
Blessed darkness reclaimed her.
When she awakened a second time, she was in complete darkness. She had no understanding of how much time had passed or where she was. There was an overwhelming smell of dankness, of moldy, musty dampness. She could smell earth and dirt, but she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face.
As she tried to raise her arm, she made the horrifying discovery that her hands were manacled to a damp, stone wall. Panicked, she tried to sit up only to find that like her wrists, her ankles were encased by thick, metal shackles.
Sweet Jesu, she was in a dungeon.
What could anyone want with her in a dungeon?
She thought hard on the events leading up to her capture. It was all a blur. She’d spoken to Mary and then stepped outside to eat her bread and cheese and enjoy a breath of fresh air. And then Kierstan …
Realization was sick and overwhelming. Kierstan had led her around the keep to the bathhouse. Kierstan was with her when the intruder had struck Eveline’s jaw. Kierstan, who hadn’t made a move to aid Eveline or to call for help.
Eveline drew up her arms as far as the chains would allow and tried to warm her cold fingertips. Then she yelled with all her might. She screamed as loudly as her throat would allow and she continued screaming until she was no longer certain she even had a voice.
In the distance she saw a flash of light. She leaned up, uncertain as to whether she imagined it. But nay, it was coming closer, and as it did, she could make out the silhouette of a man carrying the torch.
Her pulse thudded painfully against her chest and temples, making her head ache viciously from the two blows she’d taken earlier.
She drew her legs protectively against her body, determined to do whatever necessary to ensure she didn’t incur further injury.
And then the torch was thrust forward, nearly blinding her. She flinched away from the sudden light, shielding her eyes with one hand.
The man yanked her hand down, twisting cruelly until she cried out in pain. Then he wrapped his hand in her hair, hauling upward so her face was forced closer to his. It was then she saw his features and knew who her captor was.
Fear rendered her immobile. Ian McHugh was a man she thought capable of all manner of evil. Over time his power had grown enormously in her mind until she imagined him some demon from hell.
But oddly, as he stood holding her at his mercy, he seemed much smaller than she’d remembered. He had a slight build, much smaller than the average warrior. How had he seemed so much larger than life just a few years before?
Had she made him more than he was because he talked so big and she feared him so deeply? Or maybe her panic was producing stupid thoughts, telling her that she could fight back, that she wouldn’t let this evil idiot make her cower as he had when she was younger.
Perhaps the time with Graeme and his clan had given her a strength she lacked while in the protective bosom of her own clan. She’d had to fight for any respect she earned in the Montgomery clan. She was fiercely proud that no one had given her a thing.
“I’ve heard of your grand deception,” Ian said, spittle rimming his lips. His face was red with rage that was only made more prominent by the flames from the torch.
He reached up to insert the torch into one of the sconces over Eveline’s head, and then he yanked her upright until she was straining on tiptoe, his face just a breath from hers.
It was then she saw Ian’s father, Patrick McHugh, standing off in the shadows. He looked uneasy, as if he wanted no part in the entire thing, and when he saw that Eveline was staring at him, he faded back so he was no longer in her line of sight.
Her heart sank. If Ian’s father was an accomplice, what hope did she have? And he seemed frightened of Ian, which made no sense to her. Patrick was larger and stronger than Ian. He was a warrior. What warrior would allow his son to threaten him?
Her glance darted back to Ian when he shook her to gain her attention. Hatred shone like a beacon in his eyes. He was the mad one. He looked crazed.
“Played me for a fool. You act the simpleton to escape marriage and instead marry Montgomery. I cannot allow it. ’Twas supposed to be an alliance the McHughs forged with the Armstrongs. We would have been invincible! You’ll pay for your deception, Eveline Armstrong. No one makes me look the fool and escapes retribution.”
