Page 51 of The Highlander’s Dangerous Desire

His shirt was soaked through, and he pulled it off over his head, letting the cool morning air wash over him, tossing his damp hair back from his face as he did so. A flicker of gold caught his attention from the corner of his vision. He blinked, and risked a quick glance.

Grace was standing at the edge of the courtyard, in the shadow of the stables. She was watching him, though she looked away and appeared to be interested in the nearby kitchen garden when he turned to look at her directly. Ewan looked away, and noticed a shift of her weight as she turned to watch him again.

Well, if she wanted to watch him, then he was happy to let her watch. Ewan stretched his shoulders, then went through a series of sword exercises, first slow, then faster, then faster still, until he was dancing with the blade, his movement smooth and loose. He went through three, perhaps four, repetitions, until his newly healed wounds began to ache - the deeper ache that indicated he was close to tearing the newly healed skin, or straining the muscles to the point of potential injury.

Then he slowed, stopped, and went to splash water from the horse trough onto his face. Grace retreated, and Ewan bit the inside of his lip to hide a smile.

She might be ashamed of having slept in his bed, but she wasn’t indifferent to him. Her obvious interest was a balm to his pride, and soothed the uneasy unhappiness that he’d been feeling since that day.

He finished his exercise, then tossed the shirt across his shoulder and began to stroll toward the bathing room. To his surprise, Grace followed along behind him. She didn’t speak, so neither did he, until he was outside the room that led to the bathing chamber. Then he stopped. “An’ how long are ye plannin’ on following me?”

He turned, in time to see Grace’s cheeks darken to a rosy hue. “How long did you know I was there?”

“When I removed me shirt, I kent ye were watching.” Ewan grinned at her, and to his delight, Grace smiled shyly back. “But why follow me?”

“Because I… everything is so different here, and I… well, I wanted to talk to you. We have not been able to talk much, it seems.” Her eyes darted away from his. “Between your wounds, and the preparations for travel, and everything else…”

After ye came tae me bed and decided ye’d made a poor choice the next morning.

But he didn’t say the words. “Aye. ‘Tis difficult. Between the attack, an’ travel, an’ Gael MacTavish…”

Grace looked up at the last words, her eyes warm and serene in a way that made him fall silent. “I do not know this Gael MacTavish. I cannot say that I care to. However…” She paused delicately, then continued, her words quiet but full of sincerity. “I believe I know the difference between a poor lord, a good lord, and an excellent lord. I have seen many examples. And this much I am certain of: you, Ewan MacDuff, are a very good lord, who I do not doubt will become a great lord in time.”

Ewan swallowed hard. “Ye think…”

“I think you are a good lord, and a good man. The clan you are overseeing is most fortunate to have you as their caretaker, and I pray you succeed in your quest to claim the title you have earned.”

“Thank ye.” Ewan took a deep breath. “Ye ken… the ruse we agreed tae…”

“I shall uphold it, and most willingly, for as long as I am in the Highlands.” She offered him a warm smile that made his chest ache. “Or for as long as you wish me to, whichever term expires first.”

“Then I am glad tae have ye by me side, fer however long ye remain.” It felt like rocks had dissolved from inside his chest at the admission. Ewan took a deep breath. “I am glad tae be speakin’ tae ye again. These last days havenae felt the same, with the silence between us.”

“I know. That is why I wished to speak to you. Though I will admit, if pressed, that I did not mind the view I was afforded.” Grace’s smile brightened with gentle laughter, and Ewan chuckled. “However, I shall not continue to be immodest, and shall leave you to your bath.”

Ewan raised an eyebrow. “Ye could join me, if ye wished.”

He meant the words to be teasing, and was delighted to see Grace’s cheeks turn rose-colored crimson. For a moment, he thought she would scold him, but then she huffed and swatted lightly at his arm. “I shall be doing no such thing. Besides, I intend to have my bath after we return from our visit later today.”

Their visit. Sorcha. Ewan grimaced. Grace cocked her head at his expression. “Is there something wrong?”

Ewan shook his head. “’Tis naething. Only that I’ve nae gotten along well with Sorcha fer a long time. Her sister was me braither’s first fiancée, and when Constance died, she cursed me braither. ‘Twas meant tae teach Alistair tae protect what he loved, an’ it ended well, but we exchanged many a sharp word on the matter.”

Grace blinked. “Surely… she did not curse you, I hope?”

“Nae even with a fishwife’s meaningless snarlin’. But that daesnae make our relationship a comfortable one.” Ewan sighed. “Dinnae fret though, she’ll nae hold it again’ ye. She’s nae that sort.”

Grace nodded, though there was a shadow of unease in her eyes. “I do hope you are correct. Although… she might hate my parentage.”

“She’ll nae care about that.” Ewan shook his head. “Sorcha told Niamh once that she hates nay one who hasnae given her cause. So long as ye dinnae harm her or those she cares fer, she’ll wish ye nae ill.” He smiled wryly. “Mind, those she cares fer are mostly Niamh an’ Catriona, so I suspect ye’re well safe from her wrath.”

Grace relaxed. “If her care is given to Niamh, then we are allies, rather than enemies.” She smiled, reassured by his words, then her cheeks pinked again. “However, I should leave you to your bath. I’m certain the morning meal shall begin soon.”

With one last smile, she turned and was gone, through the halls, leaving Ewan with the warmth of her smile, and the ache in his gut - and his manhood.

The journey to Sorcha MacBeth’s dwelling was a unique experience for Grace. Niamh was too far advanced to ride a horse, so a modified farmer’s cart was brought, lined with soft blankets and pillows, and a set of steps were placed so Niamh could awkwardly climb into the resulting nest. Catriona took the reins of the two horses that would draw the little cart, and Grace was given the choice of riding with Niamh, or on the narrow front bench where Catriona sat.

Despite the roughness of the road, Grace chose the seat. She had never been permitted to ride on the driver’s seat of any coach or cart, and she was eager to add another new experience to her growing collection of Highland memories. Within two candle-marks of breaking her fast, she, Catriona, and Niamh were traipsing along the western road from the keep, the morning sun behind them and warming their backs.