Page 10 of The Highlander’s Dangerous Desire

Such thoughts had chased themselves through her head all night, and left what little rest she managed to get uneasy. She was almost glad when Ewan roused shortly after dawn and announced that it was time to get on the road.

They departed the inn after a brief meal of porridge, some form of sharp cheese and bread, accompanied by weak tea. Grace huddled in her cloak on the back of her horse, chilled by the early morning air, and feeling thoroughly miserable.

Ewan said little to her as they rode, a fact for which Grace was grateful. It seemed as if every conversation they attempted to have ended in argument, and she was as weary of that as she was of the ache in her muscles. She would have sought some way to remedy the situation, but she was too tired and sore to think of anything, so she settled for following Ewan as he rode northward, deeper into the Scottish territories.

They’d been riding for perhaps two or three candle-marks - long enough for the sun to rise high enough to burn off the morning mists, and for the air to begin to warm to a comfortable temperature - when they came to a river. It didn’t appear to be especially deep, nor was it particularly wide; a stone’s throw would have cleared it easily. Nevertheless, Grace’s horse balked at the river bank. Grace eyed the clear, cold-looking water. “Is there no bridge we might cross over?”

Ewan snorted, his amusement plain. “Fer a small river like this? We dinnae build bridges everywhere the water runs, lass. Otherwise, we’d have room fer little else.” He studied the river before them. “We can ford here with nae trouble. ‘Twould be a different thing if the first spring floods were passing through, but we’re past that, I’m thinkin.”

He made a soft noise and tapped his horse with one heel, and the animal started across, seemingly unconcerned with the water splashing about its knees and occasionally within inches of its belly.

Grace’s horse didn’t move. Frustrated, she flicked the reins and tapped the horse with one heel as she’d seen Ewan do. The mare shook her head with a snort, but didn’t move forward. Grace repeated the motion with a little more force. The mare took a few steps forward, but went no further.

“She can sense that yer nae sure o’ yerself, or the crossing. And she kens yer seat is nae the steadiest fer such uncertain terrain.” Ewan dismounted and tethered the other horses together, before dropping a lead line. “Wait there, and I’ll come tae guide ye across.”

“I have no need of your assistance.” Stubbornness, pride, and a lack of sleep made Grace suddenly determined to manage the crossing alone. “And I have ridden side-saddle all my life. I can manage.”

She flicked the reins again, this time using her back hand to deliver a firm slap to the horse’s flank. The mare started and took several steps forward before shying and going still once more. Frustrated, Grace repeated the maneuver with a little more force.

Either she had struck harder than she meant to, or the horse decided that it was enough. The mare plunged forward, hopping slightly in the stream and bouncing her forelegs against the river bottom. The sudden motion, combined with the jolt of the bouncing, flung Grace neatly from her seat, as if she’d been a novice who’d never sat one day in the saddle. She tumbled forward into the water as Stormcloud pranced away from her.

The water was frigid, but Grace scarcely felt it through the heat of her own embarrassment. She floundered to the surface, cheeks burning.

The first thing she saw was her horse, watching her from a few feet away. The second thing she saw was Ewan MacDuff standing on the far shore, a wide smirk adorning his rugged features.

Fury filled her, and she staggered to her feet, clumsy with her water-logged dress. “How dare you! What sort of mannerless lout are you, to once again take amusement in a lady’s predicament, rather than offering your assistance?”

Ewan raised an eyebrow. “Ye said ye didnae need me assistance. Besides, I warned ye, more than once, that yer way o’ ridin’ wasn’t suitable fer the terrain we traveled. And I warned ye afore ye started that yer horse wasnae willin’ tae try the crossing with ye in the saddle like that. Ye tried tae force the matter, like a child throwin’ a tantrum tae get her way.”

Grace flushed under the matter-of-fact statement. She wanted to argue, but they both knew the truth. He had warned her.

Ewan waded out into the stream while she was still struggling to find a response. He took the horse’s reins in one hand, then offered her his other. Grace eyed him. “I can walk.” Even to her own ears, she sounded childish.

Ewan’s mouth quirked upward, his green eyes sparkling with amusement at her expense. “Like ye could ride? The river bed isnae the most stable and even o’ surfaces. But if ye want tae risk another dunkin’...” He shrugged and started to turn away.

She was beginning to shiver, and the fall had been painful enough that she’d no wish for another one. “Wait. I… some assistance would be appreciated.”

Ewan held out his hand again, and she took it, momentarily startled by the warmth and the easy, gentle strength of it. His grip was firm and strong, but not so tight that it hurt, and he guided her through the water with a skill she rather envied. And a courtesy she found herself reluctantly appreciating. He tested every step before leading her onward, and never with more than a light tug one way or the other, and an occasional suggestion of ‘a little tae the left’ or ‘mind yer footing, the rock is moss covered’.

They made it safely to the other bank without further mishap. Grace felt herself blushing anew at the knowledge that she might not be wet and shivering now if she’d only listened to him sooner. Courtesy prompted her to look up at him. “Thank you.”

Ewan’s smile softened just a fraction. “Ye’re welcome.” He dug into one of his packs and produced a blanket, which he offered her. “Dry off and change yer clothing. I’ll teach ye tae ride properly when we go.”

Grace stared at him, too startled to do more than take the blanket. “I beg your pardon?”

Ewan frowned. “Ye’re nae still plannin’ tae try and ride side-saddle all the way tae MacDuff Castle, are ye?”

“I… I had not thought…” Grace looked around at the open country surrounding them, and blood rushed to her cheeks until she felt as if she stood next to a roaring fire. “But you cannot expect me to… to just change clothing! Out here, in the open!”

Ewan blinked, then turned to look at the scenery, then turned to her with a raised eyebrow and a slight frown. “Dinnae see aught wrong, and there’s nay village or inn fer miles. Ye’ll catch yer death o’ cold if you dinnae change. Besides, ridin’ in wet clothin’ is a wee bit uncomfortable.”

“But… you… I cannot… it would be highly improper to change out here, where anyone might see!”

A small smile twitched Ewan’s mouth. “There’s nay one tae see ye lass, save me and the horses. The horses willnae care.”

Grace blushed. “I care more about you watching than the horses!”

She’s a fair modest little lass, shyer than most I’ve kent. Ewan stared at Grace for several moments, both amused by and reluctantly appreciative of her modesty.