Page 7 of The Highlander’s Dangerous Desire

You have never met Niamh, for she was a friend of my childhood, before the passing of my father - the daughter of a lord whose lands bordered my father’s. He is a lord who married his daughter to another lord in the neighboring region opposite. However, we have kept in touch since I came into your care.

I would normally await your permission and escort, but her messenger informs me that her time is near, and thus hurrying is of the essence. Therefore, I must beg your forgiveness for my abrupt departure. I shall send word when I have arrived, and when Niamh is safely delivered. In the meantime, I pray you stay well and prosperous.

Respectfully,

Grace of Lancaster

It wouldn’t keep her uncle from being furious. However, it might keep him from pursuing her, particularly if he thought that her friendship with Niamh would serve his interests. She had crafted the letter to suggest that her friend was the wife of a lord, someone that he might claim as an ally.

She wouldn’t have even mentioned Niamh, save that Ewan had mentioned her when he delivered his message. Fortunately, Ewan had made an effort to disguise his accent, and would likely be mistaken for a border messenger - exactly as she had tried to convey in her letter.

With a sigh, Grace left the letter where it was, positioned in the center of her small writing desk, where Uncle William was sure to see it. Then she gathered her cloak, and a small bag of personal items, and turned to leave her room.

For all that she feared how Uncle William would respond, she couldn’t deny she would be glad to escape, at least for a little while. Uncle William’s estate was cluttered with symbols of his wealth and position. Even her room was crowded with heavy, forbidding furniture, thick dark drapes and austere stone walls. It felt stifling, like so much of her life since her parents had died.

She might not wish to go wandering into the Highlands with a strange Scotsman, but it would be a momentary respite from her uncle’s cold and demanding presence. And the chance to see Niamh again was worth the risk.

With a deep breath and no small amount of trepidation, Grace wrapped her cloak about her and left the room, carefully avoiding the notice of her uncle’s servants. Any one of them might report her movements to Uncle William, and she had no desire for that to happen. It would be best if he didn’t know she was leaving until she was already gone. She went to the stable, to which she had sent word to prepare her favorite horse, and mounted her ride.

The Scotsman was waiting in the forest, by the road. “Ye’re ready?”

She thought of freedom and Niamh, and nodded. “I am.”

The Scotsman eyed her outfit, then mounted his own horse, that was already carrying her travelling bag. “All right. Come with me lass, and try tae stay quiet.”

Grace bit her lip at the gruff tone, then nodded and followed .

The lass had some sense at least. Ewan had expected the daughter of an English lord to take offense at his tone, but she hadn’t. She’d simply nodded and followed him.

“’Tis good ye had the stable boy prepare a standard saddle fer ye. Ye cannae ride side-saddle over the moors.”

Grace colored, her eyes sparking defiantly. “I assumed as much, as it will be a long trip, although it is far from proper or ladylike and I have not done it since I was a child,” she said with distaste.

“Careful, lass, what ye say and what ye mean by it.” Ewan stepped closer. “Remember that when I say that lasses in Scotland ride properly, I mean yer friend and my brother’s wife, Niamh, as well.”

There were grown men, strong proven warriors who would have turned aside from his glare. But Grace Lancaster, it seemed, was made of sterner things. Her blush deepened, but she neither looked down nor backed away. “Yer point is made. However, I will ride side-saddle as long as we are in England or the roads allow it.”

Ewan shook his head at her foolishness. In truth, the saddle was wide enough that a dainty girl like Grace Lancaster could manage to ride side-saddle if she chose. And if he’d been inclined, he might have found a way to make it comfortable. However, he knew the condition of the roads and paths they’d need to travel to Castle MacDuff, and riding sideways was a foolhardy notion. She’d not be able to keep her seat for long.

On the other hand, he wasn’t of a mind to stand there arguing with a stubborn English lass. She’d learn soon enough. Until then, let her try to maintain her prim little English manners if it suited her. They needed to be gone before her kinfolk realized she was gone, otherwise, they risked being caught, no matter what diversion she had devised to divert their attention.

“I believe I can manage. I have before.” Grace soothed her mare with easy words and a light touch.

At least she can ride. I was afeared I’d have tae deal with a lass who’d nae more seat in the saddle than a sack o’ grain, but she’s decent with a horse, fer all her strange way o’ ridin’.

“This way.” He gestured to the narrow track that would eventually come out to the main road across the Lowland border. “And mind the trees. The trail’s thin in places. We dinnae want ye getting knocked from yer seat afore we’ve been half a candle-mark on the road.”

“You need not concern yourself with that, Master Ewan.”

Ewan snorted. “’Tis just Ewan. In Scotland, the only master a clansman has is his laird, and I’m nae one o’ those yet. Ewan MacDuff is me name, and I’ll thank ye tae call me by that, and naught else, lass.”

“Only if you will call me Miss Lancaster, or Grace, instead of lass, as if I was a child or a servant.”

“If ye were a child I’d call ye a wee lass or a bairn. And if ye were a servant, I’d call ye a wench.” Ewan smirked, then turned and nudged his horse into motion, pleased at having gotten the last word in.

It might be a long difficult journey back to his clan’s lands, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t seek some form of mirth wherever he could find it.

CHAPTER FOUR