Chapter Seventeen

He should be concentrating on the men around him who were talking of clan business, but all Graeme’s focus was on the door to the great hall. He could practically feel himself willing it to open. Where was Maisie? The supper horn had sounded long ago, calling everyone into the great hall, but she had not come. He’d eaten his fill from his trencher, drank his cup of wine, and listened as best he could to clan needs and grievances, but his mind was on the dark-haired, emerald-eyed temptress, exactly as it had been since he’d awoken to find her gone in the woods.

His fierce reaction to her abduction had shocked him, and the black jealousy that had coursed through him when he found her kissing Buchannan had unnerved him. Desiring the sister of his enemy could bring nothing but trouble, yet getting her out of his head was proving nearly impossible. He had to try harder to put distance between them and not do stupid things like bring her soft, delicate palm to his lips and suck out her splinter. It had been oddly intoxicating.

It was taking a force of will he had learned being captive for so many years not to get up, stalk out of the great hall, and go find her. What if she was hurt? What if she was lost? He drummed his fingers on the table as a member of the clan council spoke to him, but Graeme did not hear a word the man said. When the great hall door opened and Finlay strolled in, Graeme found himself clenching his teeth as well as his fists.

“Still angry, aye?” came Eppie’s voice from his left.

He glanced at her. “Nay,” he lied, but in truth, his blood boiled remembering how Finlay had talked of Maisie. But if Graeme made too much of it, it was likely to make matters worse, and she had held her own very nicely. Though, as Finlay made his way to a table, Graeme cheerfully imagined giving his cousin the beating he deserved for speaking so disrespectfully.

“Do ye want me to go see where she is?” Eppie asked in his ear.

Graeme pardoned himself from the conversation he’d not been listening to and focused on Eppie. “I dunnae ken what ye mean,” he lied, to which Eppie snorted.

“Ye have been staring at that door since the moment we sat down. I ken ye, Graeme. Ye are looking for her.”

“I’m nae looking for her any more than I would any lass I’m responsible for.”

“Ye can lie to yerself all ye want, but that will nae extinguish what ye’re feeling.”

“I can control how I feel,” he said, getting irritated.

“Aye.” Eppie nodded. “Ye can. But then ye will spend yer life thinking upon ‘the great what might have been.’”

“What the devil is ‘the great what might have been’?”

“That’s when ye spend yer life wondering what it could have been like had ye made different choices.”

He opened his mouth to question her about this, but movement at the great hall door caught his attention. The door opened, and in strode Maisie in the same torn gown she’d had on earlier and the same fetching dirt smudges on her nose and cheek as well. She could have been wearing a grain sack and looked lovely, but she had said she was going to freshen herself, so it seemed odd she had not. Thinking upon finding her carrying her own wood, he looked to Eppie. “Are the servants refusing to see to Maisie’s needs?”

“Why do ye ask that?”

“Well, I found her carrying her own wood a bit ago.”

Eppie screwed her mouth into an odd shape, and he knew something was afoot. “Tell me,” he demanded.

“I vowed I would nae,” Eppie replied, “and I’m a woman of my word.”

“Eppie, if ye dunnae tell me now, I’ll stand up and make an announcement to the entire clan, threatening that if they dunnae aid her properly—”

“Shh!” Eppie hissed, her gaze darting toward Maisie and back to him. He could not help but look to Maisie once more, drawn by a bothersome need to ensure she was all right, given he now suspected his clan was aligning to make her miserable. She was standing and speaking to Father Ollie, who was sitting at the table nearest the dais.

“The women in the kitchen did nae wish her to be there and were cruel, but I dunnae ken if the upstairs chamber maid refused to aid her.”

Anger shot through him. He was certain that’s exactly what had occurred. He started to stand, to make a clan announcement, but Eppie grabbed his forearm. He looked down to find her scowling at him.

“Sit down!”

“Are ye commanding me?”

“Aye! As the only mama ye ever kenned, ’tis my right!” Slowly, he sat, and Eppie said, “I had the same reaction as ye are now when the women in the kitchen were so rude to her, but Maisie made a good point that saying something will only make matters worse. Ye ken how stubborn Stewarts are! If ye command them to treat her well, they will only do the opposite, just sneakily. They need to respect her and come to ken her, as they did Grace. Give Maisie a chance to earn respect, and if she still has problems, then intervene.”

He nodded. “They are judging her based on her father’s actions.”

“Aye, just as I did, and ye did. And dunnae think yer warriors and the women did nae take note that ye did nae introduce her in the courtyard. Ye ignored her.”

“I did nae have a choice.”

Eppie clucked her tongue. “Ye always have a choice, Graeme. If ye want to put a divide between the two of ye because ye dunnae like that ye want her, then fine.” He gaped at Eppie. It was astonishing the way the woman had the ability to read him even when he tried to hide his feelings for Maisie. “But the clan takes its lead from ye on how to treat her. If ye treat her with disrespect, so will they.”

He scrubbed a hand over his face as he looked to where Maisie still stood speaking with Father Ollie. The priest had stood as well because supper was over and the tables and benches were being pushed out of the way to make room for dancing. Eppie’s words struck true. If he ignored Maisie, then it would signal to his clan members that he did not respect her; therefore, they did not have to, either.

“What do ye suggest I do?” he asked, focusing on Eppie once more.

“Ask her to dance.”

“That is the opposite of putting space between us,” he growled.

Eppie pursed her lips at him. “Have ye so little control over yerself that ye kinnae keep yer hands off the lass since ye dunnae wish to keep her as a wife?”

“Nay, ye ken that’s nae true.”

“Aye, I do, but it seems ye need to be reminded of it. I’m nae suggesting ye spend yer every waking moment with her. I’m proposing ye show the clan with a gesture now, that though her brother is our enemy and her father was, she is nae. The clan dunnae need to ken whether ye will keep her for yer wife or nae. When the time comes for ye to send her away, that’s when they’ll ken it.”

He thought about what Eppie had said and agreed she had a point. “I’ll make the gesture, and ye keep me abreast of if she encounters more problems.”

“Aye,” Eppie said, patting him on the arm as he rose. “I’m proud of ye.”

As he looked down at Eppie, he noted her lips were trying to tug into a smile, but she seemed to be fighting it. She had the strangest look upon her face. What was that look? He studied her for a long moment as the notes of the lute filled the great hall.

Mischief! That was the look he was seeing on Eppie face.

And he had a sudden feeling he’d just been handily manipulated.