Page 46 of The Highlander’s Dangerous Desire

Ewan shoved the thought away before it could turn bitter instead of wistful. He refused to envy his brother. Alistair deserved his happiness, and deserved to savor it unmarred by Ewan’s futile feelings about Grace.

“Ye look troubled.” Alistair’s soft observation made Ewan blink. There was a time when his brother wouldn’t have been so aware of him either.

“Aye. Ye’ve heard about the matter o’ Gael MacTavish?” It was better to seek his brother’s advice on the dangers represented by the would-be MacTavish laird, than to try and discuss what truly troubled him the most. At least, in the matter of Gael, his brother might be able to offer some advice to help him defend the lands and people he’d claimed as his own.

“Aye. Just what ye’ve sent in yer letters, and a few whispers an’ rumors, but I’ve heard o’ him, and the claim against yer holding the clan. Though why he didnae come forward in the harvest and winter…”

“’Tis one o’ many questions I have about the man.” Ewan agreed.

“Aye. An’ as the current overlaird, o’ course I ken a bit about the man’s claim.” Alistair clapped him carefully on his uninjured shoulder. “Come inside an’ up tae the study, an’ we’ll discuss what we both ken, an’ how tae best handle the matter.”

Ewan smiled, relieved at his brother’s offer of assistance - assistance they both knew he was too proud to have asked for, but could greatly use - and followed Alistair inside.

If Grace had harbored any doubts about Niamh’s happiness after seeing the way her friend glowed with warmth and joy, they would have been laid to rest at the first sight of Niamh’s rooms. They were elegantly appointed, warm and comfortable and furnished with anything and everything that a woman might need. There were even an abundance of footstools, for her to prop her swollen ankles on, and a tray of sweet biscuits close at hand.

Niamh motioned for her to sit, and took a seat by the fire for herself. “How are ye faring? How was the journey north?”

“’Twas well enough.” A maid poured tea for both, and Grace sipped it gratefully.

“And yer uncle? What did ye tell him?”

Grace blushed. “I didn’t tell him much of anything, I am afraid. I left him a letter, telling him I was leaving to visit a friend.” Her cheeks grew hotter at Niamh’s enquiring glance. “And then I snuck out the back door with Ewan MacDuff.”

“Ye snuck out!” Niamh laughed, a bright, clear sound of delight. “With Ewan? He must have made quite an impression on ye.”

“Oh, he did.” Grace joined her friend in laughter. “Though in truth, ‘twas not the most favorable impression. I’d not have come with him save for your letter.”

Niamh considered his words. “I had hoped, but what dae ye mean, Ewan… what happened? He didnae manhandle ye like Alistair did?”

“Not precisely. I ran into him - quite literally - the day before he turned up at our estate. I had no idea who he was at the time. It was during another one of my uncle’s awful introductions.”

Niamh groaned. “Och, nae another one.”

“Indeed. He was quite awful.” Grace shuddered.

“Worse than William the Overweight?” Niamh suggested, naming one of the more memorable suitors that Grace’s uncle had tried to force upon her. Grace grimaced in sympathy with her friend. She remembered William - a man so terribly oversized that he needed a cart to travel even the length of a hall, and four men to haul in and out of his seat. It was one of the few suitors that even Uncle William had been happy to see leaving.

“Lord Ambrose was… not physically worse. But…” Grace scowled. “It was a poor meeting from the start - Uncle William did not tell me we were meeting the man in a tavern. And the first thing he did was gift me with this truly awful hat - it had long painted feathers!”

Niamh snickered. “It sounds hideous.”

“It was. And the man was an absolute bore - he could not talk of anything save hunting. Every single thing I could think of to say, it reminded him of a hunt. It was entirely tedious.” Grace sighed. “I was ready to run away or toss the hat in the midden. Then I bumped into Ewan and accidentally had his beer dumped all over me.” She smiled. “At least it ruined the hat.”

“A small mercy, it sounds like.” Niamh nodded.

“It was. I confess I did not leave with the best impression of Ewan, but the accident convinced Lord Ambrose that I was not the wife he desired. I received your letter and made my escape the next night.”

“Och, it sounds like ye had a fair adventurous time o’ it afore ye even left Lancastershire. I hope the rest o’ yer journey was less eventful.”

“It had its moments…” Grace smiled, and settled in to tell the tale of how she and Ewan had fared in traveling across the Highlands.

Niamh listened attentively as Grace spun her tale, smiling, nodding, exclaiming and laughing at each turn of the story. By the time Grace brought the story to a close, they’d drunk two pots of tea, and Grace was more relaxed than she’d been since the last festival they’d both attended.

“Och, it sounds like ye’ve had a fair wild time o’ it - an’ ye tell a tale as well as any bard.” Niamh shook her head. “But it sounds like ye and Ewan have grown close.”

Grace swallowed. Thinking of Ewan still stung. She’d hardly been able to look at him since the night they’d spent together - not that she’d told Niamh that part of the tale. “We… I…”

“Ye have some feeling fer him?”