But this lass—thisinfuriating, chattering, impossibly enthusiastic lass—seemed determined to shatter that armor with her endless observations about every bloody thing they passed.
Ewan had givenup trying to get her to stop after the first hour. She'd honor their bargain for only two minutes, and then she'd launch into another breathless monologue about butterflies or streams or the particular shade of grey in the stones scattered across the hillside.
It should have drivenhim mad.
But somewhere aroundthe third hour of riding, when she'd gasped with genuine wonder at a hawk circling overhead and spent ten full minutes speculating about what it might be hunting, Ewan had realized something unsettling.
He liked listening to her.
Not the contentof her words, necessarily, he didn't give a damn about whether the moss on the north side of trees was really greener, or if that was just a myth.
But the wayher voice lifted with excitement, the breathless quality it took on when she spotted something new, the pure, unfiltered joy that radiated from her with every observation.
It was intoxicating.
Most womenin her position would be weeping hysterically, or plotting escape, or bargaining for their freedom.
Maia Ferguson was providing runningcommentary on the local wildlife.
And she wasn'tafraid of him.
That wasthe part that confused Ewan most. She should be terrified. He was easily twice her size, armed, and had made it abundantly clear that she was his prisoner.
Any sensible womanwould be cowering in fear.
But when he'dfelt her body against his during that endless ride, it hadn't been trembling with terror. Oh, she'd shivered plenty, but those shivers had felt like something else entirely. Something that had made his own body respond in ways he was still trying to ignore.
And the wayshe'd looked at him when he'd told her his name, those grey eyes wide and curious in the dawn light, her lips slightly parted.
Stop it.Stop it right now.
Ewan shifted in the saddle,trying to ease the discomfort that thinking about her mouth caused. He needed to focus. They'd been riding for hours, and both he and the horse needed rest. More importantly, he needed to put some distance between himself and the lass before he did something profoundly stupid.
Like kiss her.
"Oh!"Maia sat up straighter, pulling him from his increasingly dangerous thoughts. "Is that a village? Are we stoppin'?"
"Aye.”
Ewan guidedthe horse toward the cluster of buildings that marked the edge of a small settlement. It was barely more than a few cottages and an inn, but it would serve his purposes. They'd rest here for a few hours, get some food, and then press on.
The less timehe spent in close quarters with her, the better.
"An inn!"Maia twisted in the saddle, trying to see better. "I've never been to an inn before. Well, I mean, I have, but I was so young I barely remember it. What's it like? Are the beds comfortable? Is the food good? Do ye think they'll have anythin' interestin'?"
"Eight minutes,"Ewan interrupted, his voice gruff.
Maia's mouth snapped shut,but he could see the effort it cost her. Her lips pressed together firmly, and she vibrated with barely contained enthusiasm as they approached the stable yard.
Ewan reinedin the horse and dismounted in one fluid motion, his boots hitting the packed earth with a solid thud. He reached up for Maia, gripping her waist and lifting her down.
She was heavierthan most lasses he'd handled, all those curves he'd been trying not to think about, but he liked the weight of her. Liked the substantial feel of her in his hands.
The momenther feet touched the ground, she stumbled slightly, her legs unsteady after hours in the saddle. Ewan's handstightened on her waist, steadying her, and she looked up at him with those wide grey eyes.
"Thank ye,"she murmured.
He should let go.Should step back, put a proper distance between them.
