"Problem?"Ewan's voice was lazy, unconcerned. His eyes remained firmly closed, his posture relaxed.
"Nay,"Maia squeaked, then cleared her throat and tried again. "Nay problem."
She practically dovefor the bed, her bare feet making soft thumping sounds on the wooden floor. The bed frame creaked as she scrambled onto it, less gracefully than she would have liked, and she yanked the thin blanket up to her chin with more force than necessary.
Her heart was racing,her cheeks burning with embarrassment. She felt ridiculous, childish, like a girl instead of a woman of two-and-twenty.
"Ye can look now,"she said, her voice muffled by the blanket she'd pulled up over her mouth. "I'm under the covers."
Ewan openedhis eyes and turned his head to look at her. His gaze swept over the bed, over her, and something flickered in those dark eyes. Something that made Maia's breath catch and her stomach do a strange little flip.
It was gone as quicklyas it appeared, replaced by that familiar unreadable expression.
Then his mouthcurved into a smirk that was entirely too knowing. "It's nothin' I havenae seen before, ye ken."
Maia's face,which had just started to cool, flamed hot again. "Ye, ye shouldnae have been lookin'!"
"Hard nae to look after ridin'with ye for hours. Ye're nae exactly someone ye daenae notice, are ye?" The smirk widened slightly, and there was something almost teasing in his tone. Something that reminded her he wasn't just a dangerous warrior, but also a man. "All those soft curves. A man would have to be dead nae to notice."
The words snappedher to alertness like a bucket of cold water in midwinter.Nae someone ye daenae notice.Just another way of saying she was too fat, too large, too much.
Maia flinched,her arms automatically wrapping around her middle beneath the blanket. "I ken I'm fat," she murmured, turning onto her side so her back was to Ewan. "Ye daenae need ye to remind me."
She heardthe chair creak behind her, and she thought she heard what might have been a sharp intake of breath.
"That's nae what I meant."
"It's fine,"Maia interrupted, not wanting to hear whatever excuse or justification he was about to offer. "I'm used to it. Me uncle reminds me every chance he gets. Too plump. Too undesirable. Nae enough grace." She pulled the blanket higher, cocooning herself. "I daenae need ye to tell me what I already ken."
Silence filled the room,thick and uncomfortable.
Maia squeezed her eyes shut,willing away the burning sensation behind her eyelids. She would not cry. Not in front of him. Not about this. She'd cried enough tears over her uncle's cruel words; she wouldn't waste any more on a stranger's careless comment.
"Lass."Ewan's voice had lost its teasing edge, taking on a tone she couldn't quite identify.
"Canwe just nae talk about this? Please?" Maia's voice came out smaller than she intended. "Ye said I needed rest. So let me rest."
Another stretch of silence.The chair creaked again as Ewan shifted his weight.
"Aye,"he said finally, quietly. "Get some sleep."
Maia lay perfectly still,acutely aware of Ewan's presence across the room. She could feel his gaze on her back, or thought she could, anyway. Her skin prickled with awareness, every nerve ending suddenly hypersensitive.
She forcedherself to notice that the bed was comfortable. More comfortable than her narrow cot in the tower had been. The mattress was thick and well-stuffed, filled with what felt like goose feathers rather than straw. The blanket, though thin, was soft against her skin, woven from good wool that had been washed until it lost its scratchy texture.
This was a decent inn,she realized. Not some run-down establishment for travelers with more desperation than coin.
Ewan had chosen well,or perhaps he always stayed in places like this. Perhaps he was used to a certain level of comfort, being a Laird.
She triedto focus on these mundane observations, cataloging every detail of the room, the bed, and anything else to keep her mind from spinning in darker directions.
But it was impossible.
Her thoughts werea chaotic tangle she couldn't unknot. Every time she tried to grab hold of one thread, two more unraveled, leaving her more confused than before.
The unfairnessof the entire situation made her want to scream. Why should she be lying here in a comfortable bed while Mollie and the other servants were dead? What made her life more valuable than theirs? Nothing. Nothing at all.
Ye should have died instead.Ye're useless anyway. At least Mollie had people who loved her.
