“You can barely stand to speak to each other and yet when the lady walks off, you look as if you can already taste her. Smacks of marriage to me.”
“Aye,” Viktor agreed as he brought the cups.
Ewan scratched his head at their logic. “Nay, not married.”
For him there would never be such a thing and oddly enough, he began to wonder who Nora would be married to. If this Ryan she was running from would be kind to her.
Would this unknown man see in her all the things Ewan saw or would he lose patience with her and her incessant prattling?
She deserved a husband who could appreciate her unique charms. She was actually quite pleasing once a man got used to her ways...
Nora paused in the woods as she gathered a few flowers to make a garland and a sweet-smelling bouquet. She’d always had a fondness for fresh flowers. The colors and the smell of them...
It was so beautiful out here.
She lost track of time as she frolicked in the woods daydreaming and pretending to be a fairy queen who could banish Ryan out of existence and get her safely to Eleanor.
She was completely lost in her own thoughts.
Until she heard a loud bellow.
“Nora!”
She jumped at the fierce sound of Ewan’s voice. It was loud enough to shake the earth. She had been wrong earlier. Even though his voice was deep and low, he was capable of quite a loud noise when the urge took him.
She could even hear him tromping through the woods like some big, lumbering bear.
“I’m over here,” she said as she caught sight of his white shirt.
He turned and glared at her.
“What did I do now?” she asked.
“Have you any idea how long you’ve been gone?”
She smiled. “You were worried?”
His scowl deepened. “There are all sorts of wild animals and bandits in the woods. Any of them could have found you and done you any kind of harm.”
“You were worried?” she repeated.
He looked about uncomfortably. “You shouldn’t wander off,” he snapped gruffly.
“You were worried.”
He growled at her.
She smiled wider. “You know, my lord, you’re not nearly so fearsome when you’re worried.”
He scoffed at her. “Why is it so important to you that I admit that I’m worried?”
“It’s not. I just like to nettle you with it because the idea of it seems so distasteful to you. Perhaps I should be offended?”
To her surprise, he reached out with his large hand and brushed a strand of stray blond hair from her face. The gentle touch was so out of character for him that it raised chills on her body and made her heart ache in tenderness.
He was a decent man when he wanted to be.
“I was worried,” he admitted finally.
