Page 62 of The Highlander’s Dangerous Desire

Ewan chuckled. “I should be thankin’ ye. The way ye handled the Council was impressive.”

Grace sipped her wine. “’Tis what I was raised to do. And in truth, I… I enjoyed it. More than I expected to. It was an interesting change, to pretend to be your betrothed, rather than seek to avoid that fate.”

Ewan blinked, and his smile softened. Grace wondered if she was imagining the faint expression of wistfulness that she thought she saw in his eyes for a moment. Then he took a drink from his tankard of mead, and the expression faded. “Och, then I’m glad tae have been o’ service tae ye. An’ I’ll own that ‘twas fun tae see how ye act when ye’re in yer element.”

“I could say the same. I already did say you make an excellent laird.” Grace blushed, pleased to have managed the Highland pronunciation without stumbling.

Ewan’s eyes brightened with pleased recognition. “Och, we’ll have ye talkin’ like a Highland lass born yet.”

Grace’s heart twisted with a stab of regret. “’Tis possible, I suppose, but I do not think we shall have enough time. After all, I will eventually return to England. And you will choose another lady to serve as your wife.”

“Will I?” Ewan’s voice was soft. “Ye’ll nae leave fer months yet… plenty o’ time fer the world tae change.”

“But once Niamh’s babe is born, then there will be no reason for me to remain - unless perhaps a short period to help her become accustomed to motherhood.” Grace swallowed as her feelings of regret intensified. “And then…”

“Stay.” The word fell between them like a stone into a clear pond. Grace’s words disappeared into silence. Ewan blinked, as if he was as surprised as Grace that he’d spoken the words. Then he took a breath and spoke again. “Stay with me.”

“Stay with… you cannot mean…”

“Stay by me side.” Ewan set his cup down, then reached out and took hers before stepping closer. “Stay as me betrothed, until ye become me wife.”

Grace blinked, too stunned to do anything more. “But… but I… I thought this was a ruse…”

“It daesnae have tae be. I dinnae want it tae be. I havenae wanted that fer some time.”

Grace took one shaky breath, then another. Her heart was pounding, a harsh drumbeat that sounded in her ears so loudly she could scarcely think. “You… is this because of what you said in the council? Because of my connections, my friendship with Niamh, and…”

“It has naething tae dae with that, although I willnae deny it could be useful. I dinnae care about connections, or the fact that ye’re English, or what alliances ye may or may nae bring. I only ken that I dinnae want tae try and find another woman. ‘Tis ye I want by me side. ‘Tis ye I care fer, ye I wish tae keep close.”

Ewan took a deep breath. “I’ve been thinkin’ o’er it, and… I dinnae want it tae be a ruse. Grace Lancaster, I’m askin’ ye tae be me betrothed in truth, and tae wed me. Before or after Niamh gives birth, it makes nay difference tae me, but I wish tae have ye by me side in truth.”

Grace felt as if she’d been struck by lightning, or fallen from a great height. She had never thought, in all her musings, that Ewan might want her. Not when she was English, with no connection to the Highlands he so loved, save the friendship she shared with his brother’s wife. Not after everything. For several moments, she could find no words at all, no answer, too stunned for any coherent thought.

Ewan’s eyes darkened, and dejection filled them. “O’ course, I understand if ye wish tae return tae yer home and yer kin…”

“No.” Grace shook her head, to rid herself of the paralysis that seemed to have mired her thoughts like a bog. “No. I want…”

She took a deep breath, aware of the sense of preparing to step off a cliff, but also aware of a sense of rightness to the words she was about to speak, as if she stepped while already knowing she had wings that would bear her aloft. “I want to stay. With you. With… with ye.”

Ewan blinked as if she’d whacked him on the skull. “Ye…”

“I want to stay with you. I never thought I would wish it, when I started my journey with you, but I wish to remain by your side. ‘Tis only… I never thought you felt the same way.” She flushed. “I thought you were only calling me your betrothed because you needed the pretense, and to protect me…”

“It hasnae been that fer a long time.” Ewan laughed, and caressed her cheek with one hand. “Nae since I kissed ye after the attack, I dinnae think, though I was fool enough that I couldnae admit it at the time.”

“As I was, not to realize I wanted more than pretense, the night I came to your bed.” Grace swallowed, suddenly shy. “I… I can only say, I have never felt this way before…”

“Nae more have I. But if ye’re stayin’ by me side, then we can figure it all out together.”

Warmth spread through her at the word ‘together’, better than the finest wine. Ewan bent to kiss her, and Grace leaned up into his kiss, into his arms. She felt filled with light, with brilliance, as if the joy of being Ewan’s betrothed in truth was like a gentle, warming flame that filled her until it should be visible to all.

They kissed, breath mingling, until Grace felt almost light-headed, as if she might faint. When they broke apart, her cheeks felt flushed, her breath heavy, and her whole body felt sensitive.

Ewan groaned, then stepped back. “Och, we need tae stop. Otherwise, neither o’ us will be makin’ the feast, and ‘twill nae look good tae the Council.”

His kilt was visibly tented. Grace’s cheeks heated until she felt as if she’d sat almost on top of the hearth flame. She wanted Ewan, very badly.

Ewan’s eyes looked into hers, and he laughed again. “Aye, ‘tis tempting, but supper will be served within the candle-mark, if nae sooner, an’ I’ve nae desire tae rush.” He brushed back a tendril of hair that had escaped Anne’s ministrations. “There will be time enough, after the feast.”