“Grant!” Ross protested at once, but Grant held his palm up to his friend.
Eve whirled toward the door, and he let her get all the way to it and start to open it before he spoke. “Ye’ll want to keep to the woods. I’m certain Aros will be sending men to wait along the border of my land for any sight of ye. And watch for the wolves at night.” The door stilled in mid-opening, and she stopped but did not turn toward him. “I dunnae ken where exactly ye’re going, but if Aros found ye and recognized ye, other men will, as well. Do ye have a weapon? Oh, that’s right, ye dunnae.”
Her shoulders rose, her tenseness clearly increasing.
“Grant, I gave my vow to protect Eve,” Thomas said, to which Grant waved him silent.
“I imagine,” Grant continued, sensing that Eve might now truly be understanding and accepting the peril she was in, “that ye are headed to retrieve yer sister.”
She swiveled toward him, the heavy lashes that framed her glorious eyes flying wide open. “My sister?” She frowned. “Mary is dead.”
It was Grant’s turn to be surprised. “Dead? Did she die in hiding, then? I presume someone took the two of ye to safety after yer father’s castle was attacked and thought to keep ye hidden until ye could claim yer inheritance, aye?”
Eve bit her lip. “Why would you think Mary died in hiding? She was killed the day of the attack. I saw her trampled by a horse.”
“Ah, I’m sorry, lass. I did nae ken. The bards all sing of the missing heir of Linlithian Castle and her missing sister.”
“My God,” Eve muttered, all the color draining from her face. She swayed and reached for the door, but then Grant was in front of her, gripping her by the arm, afraid she might fall.
“Bring Eve some wine,” he said, looking to Thomas, who scrambled to do so. “Come sit, lass,” Grant said gently. He thought she might argue, but she nodded and followed him to the chair, muttering to herself as they went.
Once she was sitting and Thomas had handed her the wine, Grant had to put the cup to her lips and urge her to drink after she simply stared at it, dazed. She looked toward Grant but through him, as if perhaps replaying the last day she’d seen her sister. “Could it be that my sister lived?”
“If ye did nae see her truly dead,” Grant said carefully, “then aye.”
When a single tear trickled out of Eve’s eye, a crushing tightness gripped his chest, surprising him. The tear had rolled almost to her chin before she wiped it away with the back of her hand, and her lavender eyes cleared and locked on him. “You must aid me.” Her voice was a desperate plea that made his gut clench.
Devil take it! He’d aid her, no matter if she wed him or not. He could not honorably do otherwise. But Eve did not need to know that yet.
“Find yer sister?” he asked, assuming that’s what she meant.
She wrung her hands in front of her and shook her head. “No. I’ve no notion where to even begin to look, but Clara—”
“Who’s Clara?”
Eve bit her lip, indecision clear upon her lovely face.
“I kinnae aid ye if I dunnae ken the truth, lass.”
“How do I know you won’t simply use whatever I tell you against me? That’s what I’m trying to prevent with Aros!”
“Ye dunnae ken that I will nae, but I give ye my word I’ll nae.” She snorted at that, which caused guilt to settle in his gut when he realized that he would feel the same way in her situation. “I ken yer feelings,” he said slowly, “but when we are wed, I will do all in my power to protect ye, and those ye love, who dunnae wish me and my clan harm,” he added, thinking it necessary considering her uncle was an English lord.
Looking forlorn, she rubbed her temples for a moment. “If we were closer to Linlithian, I’d risk trying to reach my uncle,” she said, her tone acerbic.
“Well ye’re nae close to the borderland here,” Grant said, matter-of-fact, “and if ye need aid immediately, the only way ye’ll get it is to wed me.”
The glare she shot him could have frozen Hell. “What do you want with my castle anyway?” she demanded.
“Peace,” he said. And then because honor would not allow him to lie to her, he added, “And revenge.”
She stood, the top of her head coming only to his chin, and she tilted her head back to look at him. Gold rimmed the lavender of her eyes, which seemed to burn with an inner fire. “Revenge and peace,” she said, her voice soft, her gaze speculative. “The very things I wish for, as well. I pray that we don’t destroy each other trying to achieve our hearts’ desires.”
“Does this mean ye willingly agree to wed me?”
She frowned. “Willing is a funny word, wouldn’t you say?”
He was fascinated by the way her emotions showed so vividly in her eyes. He’d never seen the likes of it, or the likes of her. Her sharp gaze assessed him, taking his measure, likely plotting how to rid herself of him at the first available moment. He was well aware a marriage could easily be dissolved by her king if it was not sealed by a bedding, so he’d see to that immediately.
“Thomas, go fetch Father Tavish,” he said.
Thomas nodded but surprised Grant when he walked to Eve instead of to the door. He surprised Grant again when he hugged Eve. “I’m glad ye’ll be part of our family, Eve.”
She bit her lip again, revealing her distress, but managed a tremulous smile and patted him on the shoulder. With a nod, Thomas, with Allisdair falling in behind him, left the great hall.
“Father Tavish is old and slow, so it could be a bit. Would ye care to wash before the wedding?” It seemed strange to be speaking of his impending marriage, one that he had no notion of this morning.
She nodded. “We cannot tarry, though. We must set out today.”
“Who are we setting out for and where?”
“Hawick-upon-Tweed. It’s the convent I was hiding in with my old lady’s maid, Clara. She is the one we are going to retrieve. I’m afraid Aros will search for her once he and his father have time to consider how to force me to wed him. They will use her.”
“Ye’re likely correct. We’ll ride once the wedding is over.” He did not tell her that by we he meant himself and some of his men. Eve would slow him down and give him one more thing to be concerned about. He picked up a bell and rang it, expecting the great hall servant, Lydia, to appear, but his sister breezed through the door and plunked her hand on her hips. She scowled at him before sweeping her gaze over Eve.
“Is this the lass that slapped ye?” Esme demanded.
Grant rolled his eyes heavenward with exasperation. It seemed some of the servant women had been standing with their ears pressed to the door. He’d have to talk to them. But now was not the time. He needed a private moment with Ross, Kade, and Bryden.
“Aye,” he answered Esme. “Meet my soon-to-be wife, Eve.”
Esme tilted her head and stared at Eve for a long, silent moment. Most women squirmed under Esme’s scrutiny, but Eve stared back, making Grant want to grin. Finally, Esme shook her head. “I dunnae ken why ye’d wish to wed my brother. He’ll give ye precious little freedom.”
“Esme,” Grant said in warning.
His sister scowled at him again.
“I don’t wish to wed him,” Eve said, also scowling at him. “But he’ll not aid me unless I do, and I need help immediately.”
Esme snorted. “Well that explains it. Men!”
“Yes,” Eve agreed too wholeheartedly for Grant’s liking. “Men.”
“Come on, then,” Esme said, linking her arm through Eve’s. “I’ll get ye cleaned up before ye stand as the sacrificial lamb.”
Eve shot a petulant look over her shoulder at him as she turned to exit the great hall. The minute the women disappeared from sight, Bryden turned to him. “Grant, ye would sacrifice yerself by wedding that English lass?”
Anger stirred in Grant’s chest. “What do ye mean by ‘that English lass’? Are ye implying that Eve is nae bonny?”
“Of course nae. He kinnae be,
” Kade answered, cuffing Bryden on the shoulder. “Lady Eve is surely one of the loveliest lasses I’ve ever seen.”
“Aye,” Ross agreed.
“I want to bury my face in her hair,” Kade said, to which he and Ross chuckled while Bryden stood scowling.
Grant felt his brows pull forward in his own scowl. He recognized jealousy, but it was ridiculous to feel it for a woman he didn’t even know, had no feelings for. Yet jealousy was burning inside him now.
“I can think of better places to bury my face in a lass as luscious as the Decres wench,” Ross said.
“Dunnae,” Grant said as his jaw tensing, “ever speak so of Eve again, even in jest.” He stared at Ross until the man gave a quick nod, and when he turned his focus on Kade, Kade threw up his hands.
“Ye dunnae have to repeat yerself, laird. I hear ye and will nae ever be such a clot-heid again. I did nae think ye’d care, nae kenning the lass and all.”
Grant clenched his teeth. True, Eve was a stranger to him, but she would be his wife. Though the wedding had nothing to do with love. He was not a man inclined to soft feelings. He ruled his emotions with iron control, just as he’d been taught, thankfully. He’d made too many near-fatal errors allowing emotions to cloud his mind in the past. This was a tactical marriage, but that did not mean he would not be a good husband, and that included ensuring Eve had the respect of his men and family, as well as his protection. And in turn, she would bring him her castle and, one day, hopefully sons and daughters. That was all he needed.
“I dunnae think ye should wed her without speaking to King Robert,” Bryden said, his words drawing Grant from his thoughts. “What if he has someone else to whom he wishes to wed the wen—lass. Ye may incur his disfavor.”
“Did ye get hit on the head, Bryden?” Ross demanded.
“Nay,” Bryden bit out.
“Well, ye certainly seem to have lost yer sense. How could Bruce have anyone in mind to wed Lady Eve when he dunnae even ken she’s alive?” Ross glanced at Grant. “I agree ye should wed her. It will gain us the border castle and may help sway other Scots on that border to switch their allegiance to Bruce. And if she remains unwed and nae bedded, someone else—Aros and his father for two—will try to take her and wed her.”
Grant nodded. “I thought of that, as well. She must be wed.” And bedded. “And then when we go to her castle, I will have the right to claim it, as the English king himself declared.”
“What makes ye think he’ll nae simply be untrue to his word?” Kade asked.
“He might,” Grant replied, “but Decres’s warriors have always been kenned as honorable. I think they’d pledge their loyalty to Eve as the rightful heir, and then to me, her rightful husband, especially once they see I have her loyalty.”
“How do ye intend to get the lass’s loyalty?” Ross asked. “She appears to hate ye.”
“She seems to hate all of us,” Kade added. “Except the lads.”
Could they blame her? She thought Highlanders had killed her parents, and she knew for sure that she’d recently been kidnapped by Highlanders, then rescued by him, another devilish Highlander, only to be informed he’d not aid her without her wedding him. Guilt niggled at him again.
“I’ll do what I must,” he said.
“Ah, seduction!” Ross chortled, to which all the men except Grant began to laugh. His mind immediately went to the lavender-eyed, creamy-skinned lovely lass. It would not be a hardship to seduce her, and he’d not feel bad about the eagerness that fired his blood when he thought of it. She’d soon be his wife, and he’d give her not only his protection and care but all of his desire.
Chapter Eight
With her emotions careening between anger and lingering shock over learning Mary could possibly be alive, Eve stomped up the stairs after Grant’s sister, Esme, who kept shooting her sympathetic looks over her shoulder. Eve forced a smile for Esme’s benefit. Eve may not like her brother, or any Highlander men for that matter, but Esme seemed quite nice. She also appeared to be as equally appalled by the conversation they had just eavesdropped on among Grant and his men as Eve was. Plus, she liked that Esme had offered the idea and chance for Eve to listen at the door of the great hall. Eve had no notion why the woman would wish to aid her, but she’d take the woman’s sympathy and help. Eve was going to need it if she was going to succeed with the plan that had formed in her mind before she’d ever verbally agreed to be Grant Fraser’s wife.
Seduction, indeed! She ground her teeth as she recalled the most inappropriate part of his conversation with his men. The devil thought to wed her, take her castle, and apparently claim her loyalty, all through seduction! The Highlander surely thought highly of himself and his appeal to women. An image of the man’s blue eyes and thick, wavy, shoulder-length brown hair appeared in her mind. Oh, he was handsome. There was no point denying it. He was compelling, too, with his dimples and half smile. And a bit intimidating being so tall and, well, solid. She’d never seen shoulders so broad or a chest and stomach so riddled with muscles. There was not a bit of fat on Grant Fraser. He had the look of a man who’d honed his body through constant rigorous training and battle, and—
With a sharp intake of breath, she stopped herself. What was she doing, dwelling on the Highland devil’s pleasing looks? He may be a feast for the eyes, but he was manipulative, unbending, and greedy. She paused on the steps, and Esme immediately turned to look at her.
“Why’d ye stop?” Esme huffed.
“Sorry,” Eve muttered and kept going. She supposed Grant might not be greedy. He had said he wanted her castle for peace, after all. She did not know much about the political mechanisms between England and Scotland, but she did know that whoever ruled her home had control over who passed through the Valley of Blood with ease and who risked their lives to get through. Grant, naturally, would want her castle so he could aid his king in getting his soldiers into England. She scrunched her nose in thought. Perhaps Grant wanted her castle so he could simply stop more English soldiers from invading his homeland. She’d have to ask him.
No, she would not do that. She may have agreed to wed the Highlander, but it would be a temporary union. She grinned to herself at her cleverness but then bit her lip with worry. Her plan for her marriage to be temporary hinged upon Grant treating her with honor and not forcing her to join with him until she was ready, which, if her plan went correctly, would be never. Clara had long ago told her that if anyone ever succeeded in kidnapping her to wed her, the king could dissolve the marriage if she managed to stay chaste until she was rescued or freed. She had every intention of employing that tactic now. She may not have any choice but to wed Grant in order to rescue Clara, but she had no intention of staying married to the man.
She would choose her true husband wisely. He’d be a man whom she could love and who could love her, and he would be honorable and capable of helping her find her sister, if she lived, and gain and hold her inheritance, though she was certain her uncle would also aid her in that regard. Once she had her castle, she would decide which side in this war she was going to take.
When they reached Esme’s bedchamber, Esme opened the door, and they both entered. The chamber was lovely with feminine touches of tapestries hanging on the walls, a plush animal skin on the ground where one would step out of the bed, and bright-yellow flowers in a large vase. But beside the flowers was an enormous gleaming sword.
Eve immediately went to it. “Is this yours?” she asked, awed. Esme came up beside her, and Eve looked over at her.
She nodded and grinned. “Aye. This is Fate.”
“It’s beautiful,” Eve said, thinking of the weapon her own father had given to her that she had lost. “Did your father give it to you?”
“Nay,” Esme said with a bitter laugh. “My father would nae allow such a thing. He had verra strong notions that a woman was to be protected by the man always.”
“I see,” Eve said. “And what happens to the woman when the man is not around to protect
her?”
Sadness filled Esme’s eyes. “Exactly…”
For the first time since meeting Esme, Eve really assessed her. The woman was stunning with her golden hair, eyes the color of the ocean, and heart-shaped face. She looked delicate with her tiny stature, yet she stood ramrod straight and, Eve realized with shock, was wearing braies and a léine with a rope tied around the waist. Eve looked between the sword and the woman before her. Esme was staring at the sword with obvious pride.
“You wish to take up arms with the men?” Eve asked, though she was certain she knew the answer.
Esme’s gaze alighted on her. “Aye! Like ye!”
Eve shook her head. “I never dreamed of taking up arms and becoming like the famed shieldmaidens of old Viking legends. I was forced into this role when my father was betrayed and my family slaughtered.”
“My parents were killed, as well,” Esme said softly. “My mother trusted an enemy’s wife, who had come to her under the guise of needing a healer for her ailing bairn. My mother went to them to heal the bairn, and they took her captive in order to draw my father to them.”
Eve sucked in a sharp breath, fearing what was to come since Esme had just told her that her father had never taught her or her mother how to defend themselves.
“My mother had secretly had a sword made, this sword. Fate. She persuaded Grant to teach her how to wield it. She wanted to show my father her skill—I think to make him see that women could do such things—so she felt comfortable going to our enemies, though she’d only had a few lessons from Grant. Ye see, he was banished shortly after he started teaching Mother how to use Fate.”
“And your father found out?”
Esme shook her head. “Nay. Grant missed too many training sessions, spoke disrespectfully to our da, drank too much mead, and took too many women to his bed. Da, I think, was at his end with him, so he banished him and told him he could only return when he was a changed man.”
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