She savored the warmth of him as dreams of her fictitious courtier evaporated. Gone was the image of her blond minstrel and in his place, she saw only the face of a man who held tormented blue eyes.
A man who could make beautiful music with his hands.
Ewan clenched his teeth as he fought the urge to bury his face into the crook of her neck. He lost all track of time as he sat there with her practically in his lap as he ran her hands through a series of chords to teach her an easy song.
“Do you know the words to the song?” she asked.
“I do.”
“Will you teach me that too?”
“Nay, Nora. You’ve no wish to hear me sing, I assure you. I’ve been told a frog’s hoarse croak is infinitely superior to my bellowing.”
“I don’t believe it. I wish to hear you sing.”
Ewan cringed at the idea. He’d spent far too many years with his brothers’ brutal mockery to have any delusions about his talent.
But as he stared at her and the expectant look she had, he couldn’t resist her plea. “Only if you swear not to laugh at me.”
Nora looked up over her shoulder to see the sincerity in his eyes. Who would have thought a man like him would be afraid of someone mocking him?
Who would even dare? Better to mock the devil than a man like Ewan MacAllister.
“I promise not to laugh.”
He sang a few words and quickly proved that he was right. He sounded dreadful. But she didn’t laugh.
She only smiled at him until she’d learned enough of the song to sing it herself.
“You have a lovely voice, my lady,” he said.
She couldn’t remember the last time a compliment had warmed her so much. “Thank you.”
Ewan listened to her and let the sound of her voice wash over him. To soothe him. Before he realized it, he was lacing his fingers through her hair.
She didn’t protest.
“Who are you really, Nora?” he asked quietly.
“I can’t tell you that. You’ll summon my father if I do.”
Ewan traced his fingers from her hair, down her soft, delicate cheek. He’d never felt skin so soft and smooth.
He’d been so long without a woman. So long without the peaceful release of a tender body close to his that it ached to be close to her now.
And yet he couldn’t bring himself to move away. She compelled him in a way he’d never experienced before.
It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her if she would let him make love to her. But he knew better. Bold though she might be, she was a gentle born lady.
A maiden whose innocence reached deep inside him.
She’d never known a man’s touch. Never known the beauty that came from that one moment when two people were naked and entwined, both taking comfort in each other as they reached the ultimate in human pleasure.
Isobail had been the one who had shown him that for the first time. There for a little while, he had felt as if he were something other than the forgotten MacAllister.
Braden was the handsome one. Lochlan the smartest. Kieran had been the charmer and he...
He’d been the quiet one.
