Page 33 of The Highlander’s Dangerous Desire

It wasn’t a glowing endorsement, but she hadn’t expected to find anyone who was willing to even consider her presence as acceptable. So Grace smiled. “In that case, I think we shall suit each other very well.”

A little time later, Grace was nursing a third cup of tea when another knock sounded, and Anne opened the door for Ewan. Grace studied him.

There were shadows under his eyes, but he’d clearly taken time to bathe, and gotten some rest. He was neatly attired in a kilt in the clan tartan, and his hair had been washed, trimmed and tied back in a neat warrior’s tail. Grace swallowed.

Ewan raised an eyebrow. “Ye clean up well. And the color looks well on ye.”

“Thank you.” She saw Anne curtsy to Ewan, and gestured. “Before we meet the Council, I would like to request that Anne be assigned as my personal maid.”

“I’ll inform Malcolm.” He offered her his arm, and she took it. She smiled, adopting the pleasant expression that she had used so often when meeting new suitors.

Together, they traversed the corridors to a set of double doors, leading into what she recognized as the Council Room. Grace felt her stomach clench at the sight of almost a dozen Scotsmen, all of whom appeared to be nearly the same age as her uncle. She felt a moment of trepidation, then Ewan gave her an encouraging look. Grace stiffened her spine and raised her chin, reminding herself that she had faced many men, and she had always managed before. And none of them could possibly be as intimidating as her uncle.

Ewan led her inside, and Malcolm shut the doors. One man rose, his gray beard falling over a broad chest. “Laird Ewan. Who is this?”

“This is the woman I hope tae claim as me bride. Her name is Grace Lancaster.”

“Lancaster! Tha’s an English name. Dae ye mean tae tell us ye’ve brought an English lass intae this keep as yer possible bride?”

“I have. An I intend tae pursue the possibility o’ making her me wife.”

“Ye consider her…”

“Grace Lancaster may be from English stock, but she is also a laird’s daughter, raised as a lady. And she is a sensible, kind, and intelligent woman whom I formed a relationship with while travelin’ from the Laird Cameron’s lands. She is also a close friend tae Lady Niamh MacDuff, so though she might have been born on English soil, she also has strong ties tae Scotland and the Highlands.”

“Even so…”

“Even so, she is me choice, an’ she is here under me protection, as the lady I have chosen tae pursue a potential courtship with. An’ I will ask ye tae honor that, as well as our alliance with the clan o’ whom me lady is a close friend.”

The steel in his voice made Grace shiver, and not with apprehension. She couldn’t remember the last time any man had chosen to protect her. She’d never thought a Scotsman might be the person who did so, though she’d long given up hope that her uncle or any man he chose for her would help her.

Ewan, however, was protecting her. And though the Council might not know it, he knew as well she did that he might gain nothing from it. The knowledge made her feel… warm. Happy, in a way she had trouble defining. And far safer than she could remember feeling since she was a very young child.

She sat a little straighter in the chair Ewan had pulled out for her. “Good sirs, I assure you, I understand your suspicion. However, if you fear that I shall betray you to my English heritage, please rest assured that I have no intentions of the sort.”

“An’ how are we tae trust that?”

“I have traveled for more than a sevennight, far from my home, in the company of your laird, to be here. Surely if I had intentions of betraying you, I would not take such risks. Nor would I dare to present myself as the betrothed of a Scottish laird, a position for which my kin would surely reproach me, if not disown me.”

“An’ ye have me word o’ honor as well. Tae the lady, and tae ye.”

None of the assembled men made any response. Ewan waited for several moments, then offered Grace his hand. “Me lady, would ye want tae remain fer the rest o’ the business o’ the keep, or would ye like tae write yer friend an’ let her ken that ye’ve arrived safely, an’ ye’ll see her within the next day or two?”

She knew the offer for the graceful dismissal that it was. She smiled and stood. “I thank you for the offer, my laird, but I would prefer to write to Niamh. She has doubtless been waiting impatiently for my arrival, and I should like to let her know that I will see her soon.”

“O’ course. Malcolm will see that ye get the necessary supplies.” Ewan smiled and handed her off to the steward.

Grace smiled once more at all of the men, then left, composing her letter to Niamh as she went.

Ewan sighed as he paced his room. Night had long since fallen and he was weary, but sleep eluded him. The day had been a trying one, and some finely honed instinct - a warrior’s instinct - continued to hum in the back of his mind. Unfortunately, he had no idea what direction the attack would come from, nor what form it would take.

The Council of Elders had, at least tentatively, accepted Grace as the woman he was courting, with the goal of strengthening ties to Lowland countries, and to Clan MacDuff through her friendship with Niamh. Gael MacTavish was quiet, though he was expected to appear and present himself as a candidate for lairdship within the next few days, along with his wife and son. The planting was going well, and the families who had lost their homes in the fires were safe, and had been promised the necessary compensation to rebuild their homes and continue their livelihood - a gesture that had earned him further goodwill among the ordinary folk of Clan MacTavish.

And still, the uneasiness remained, driving away sleep, or even restful repose until he found himself pacing his rooms, weary to his bones and unable to even consider lying down.

Perhaps a patrol along the wall would help, and then… he’d never been much of a scholar, and neither had the late Laird MacTavish, but there were some books he could read. Or no, he still hadn’t finished reviewing all the records left behind. He’d done much over the winter, but it wouldn’t hurt to review them again, so he could be certain that he was truly helping improve the fortunes of the clan. After all, that would be part of what the Highland Gathering would consider, when he and Gael made their separate claims for the lairdship.

Grace Lancaster, for all that she was willing to support the ruse for now, had no intention of becoming his wife. In the end, he would stand alone, with only the quality of his stewardship to support his position.