Page 26 of The Highlander’s Dangerous Desire

Ewan grimaced. “’Tis nae a comforting story.”

“I did not ask for a comforting story.” Her eyes regarded him quietly, solemnly.

“Aye. ‘Tis true enough.” He paused, considering his words. “I took that two years ago. Me braither was betrothed tae a local lass. She was visiting her family but we were at feud with a neighboring clan, an’ me braither was the war leader, so me faither decided tae escort her home. But they were ambushed on the road, by members o’ the clan we were in feud with. Scouts raced tae warn us, an’ Alistair and I went tae their rescue, but ‘twas too late. ‘Twas a hard fight, an’ all o’ us came away with wounds, but neither faither nor me braither’s betrothed survived. We scarcely arrived in time fer him tae say farewell.”

“That sounds terrible.” There was sympathy in her voice.

“’Twas. Fer Alistair even more than me.” Ewan grimaced. “He took the deaths hard.”

“But he married Niamh, only a year later?” Now there was curiosity in her voice.

“The clan wanted him tae have a wife an’ heir. Niamh’s maither was from a cadet line o’ our clan, and they offered tae assist her clan an’ ours, if we ensured she made a proper Highland marriage.” Ewan huffed. “Never saw a man an’ a woman less inclined tae marry.”

“But they did get married.” There was a note of hurt in her voice.

“Aye. For the sake o’ their kinfolk. Lovin’ came later, though I could tell they were a bit fond o’ each other when they arrived.”

“What was it like, when you first met her?”

“Och, ‘twas nae much o’ a first meeting. She rode in with me braither, but me cousin carried her off near as soon as her feet touched the ground.” Ewan chuckled, remembering the slight young woman who’d slid off the horse into his brother’s arms. “I heard later from Alistair that they had had quite the journey.”

“Rather like ours. However, I don’t believe I shall be falling in love with you.”

The words stung more than he’d expected them to, but he did his best to keep the sharpness from his voice. “Dinnae expect ye tae.”

She sighed. “I confess, I am surprised. Though I suppose I should not be. Niamh is a kind and caring soul, full of laughter, even though she had no mother to raise her. I have often envied that about her. That, and her willingness to overlook all differences that others might find divisive.”

“How dae ye mean?”

“She was kind to me, after my parents died. But there was a time, when I was old enough to understand the divide between Scottish and English, and to comprehend that the Scottish had been the cause of my parents deaths, and I thought I would hate her for that. And a time when I thought she would hate me, as so many of her kinfolk did.”

“Cannae see that happening. She’s a loyal lass.” Ewan kept his voice soft, but he had to admit, he was curious. This was a side of Niamh he didn’t know. And a story from Grace’s past that he hadn’t heard before. He wondered if Alistair knew the story.

“That is what I discovered. I met her that year, and I asked her how she could consider us friends, since she is Scottish and I am English. She said to me that it would only ever matter to her, if she could use it in her lists of sins to convince a suitor to go away. We laughed together about that for most of the day. How to introduce ‘my improper friend from across the Lowland border’.” There was rueful laughter in her voice.

Ewan chuckled. “Did ye ever use that excuse?”

“No. Neither one of us ever had cause. Though I admit, I was fair tempted after my uncle introduced me to the last few.” Grace shook her head.

They’d both finished their food, and Grace was gradually relaxing against him, her words going softer and slower. She didn’t even shift uneasily when the fire crackled. Ewan let the silence fall and deepen for a few moments, then tipped his head to look over her shoulder.

Grace was asleep. Ewan smiled and gently eased her to the blankets. The ground beneath them was rough and lumpy, but Grace never stirred.

Ewan arranged his cloak over both of them, and closed his eyes to get what rest he could.

He fell asleep with Grace in his arms, and a warmth in his heart that he couldn’t remember ever feeling before.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Grace woke the next morning to find the fire blazing merrily, and Ewan on the other side of it, his hands busy as he butchered a rabbit. For a moment, she wondered when and where he’d caught it, then she remembered the snare he’d said he’d set. She sat up, grimacing slightly. She could feel sore spots from sleeping on the rough ground, and her body felt stiff.

She had learned, however, that the best way to ease the stiffness was to rise and begin moving. With difficulty, she pushed herself to her feet and stretched, glad that her braid was still intact and her hair hadn’t become an unruly nest again. Her eyes felt heavy with sleep, and she rubbed them.

“There’s a stream, nae more than a hundred or so paces in that direction, if ye want tae wash up and clear the sleep from yer head. ‘Tis frigid enough tae wake the dead though, so fair warnin’ tae ye.” Ewan’s quiet voice startled her. He usually didn’t speak much in the mornings.

She walked in the direction he had pointed, and found the stream easily enough. There was a small path of broken branches to mark his passing, and that made it easier. The water was cold enough to make her shiver and gasp, but it was refreshing and woke her completely. She washed her face and hands, dried them on her skirt, and returned to camp.

She found Ewan wrapping meat in fresh green leaves and setting it close to the edge of the fire. “What are ye doing?”