Page 19 of The Highlander’s Dangerous Desire

Grace lifted her chin to face him. “I am speaking of your apparent disregard for my thoughts - you did not even consult with me before introducing me as your woman! And then, when that man assumed I was your wife… you said nothing. Did it never occur to you to consider how I might feel about such a deception?”

“That’s what ye’re angered about?” Ewan frowned. “’Twas the easiest way tae avoid questions and keep ye safe. Announcing ye as such gives ye me protection.”

Grace bit her lip. “I know that. I’m scarcely as much of a fool as you seem to believe I am. However, I would have liked to be asked before being part of such a ruse.”

Ewan stared at Grace. He was tired, cold, and he had no idea what was upsetting her. He’d thought at first that it was the size of the cottage they’d taken shelter in. Then he’d thought it was the fact that he’d called her his lady - and allowed the farmer to consider her his wife. Now… now he had no idea.

He was also far too weary to try and guess, or dance around her temper.

“I dinnae understand. Are ye angered that I called ye me lady, or that I didnae ask ye first? Or is there something else on yer mind?”

Grace’s eyes flashed with irritation. “And why should I not be irritated? To be assumed to be married… and to have no choice but to play along. Have you not consideration for a moment how that would make me feel?”

Ewan grunted. “I didnae think o’ it. I was too busy thinking o’ how tae keep both o’ us safe and find some place tae wait out the storm. I said the first thing that came tae mind.”

“You might still have asked my opinion before beginning your ruse.”

Ewan sighed and gave up the conversation. He had no energy to do anything more.

Silence fell between them. Ewan got some dried meat and travel bread, and a water skin. He left some for Grace, despite the fact that she’d said she didn’t want any. After a few minutes, she took some of it and chewed on it quietly.

Ewan added some peat to the fire. It was a low, sullen blaze, but it was better than nothing. And the small space of the cottage would eventually warm up. At least, that was what he hoped.

Maybe, if it got warmer inside the messenger’s hut, he and Grace could stop huddling within arm’s length of each other, shoulder to shoulder next to the brazier. As it was, she was close enough that he could smell the soft, floral soap she’d used at the last inn, and the delicate, feminine scent that was uniquely Grace. It cut through even the hard, earthy scent of the peat fire, teasing him - just like the flickering light on her golden hair.

He rarely spent much time in the company of a woman - unless they were servants he was speaking to, or women he chose to take to his bed. Having Grace so close was… difficult. She was a beautiful woman, for all that she was English, and after being so close to her for the past few days, it was getting increasingly hard to ignore.

And now she was standing close enough for him to feel her breath on his arm, both of them in the small confines of the messenger’s hut. Every glint of light on the soft strands of her hair caught his eyes, and sent warmth through his chest and to his groin.

“I never plan to be married, you know. I have no desire to be anyone’s wife.”

The words startled Ewan from his thoughts, and he seized on the distraction gratefully. Even if it led to another argument, it was better to think about her past than about their current circumstances. “Is that why ye were angry about bein’ considered me wife?”

“I am still angry that you did not ask me before deciding upon that ruse. However… I suppose.” Grace shivered a little and huddled closer to the brazier. Ewan added more peat. They would owe the farmers a coin or two for the amount they were using. He resolved to make sure he left an appropriate amount when they left.

Grace looked at him. “You must think it strange, that a young woman does not wish for marriage.”

“I dinnae think anything o’ it.” Ewan shook his head. “The only thing I ever found strange was yer friendship with Niamh. How an English lass and the daughter o’ a Scottish laird ever became friends…” He shook his head.

“My family lived just across the border from Niamh’s clan. There was always trading across the border, especially on the Festival days. The first time my father took me to a festival, I wandered across to the Scottish side of the celebration by accident.” Grace smiled. “I met a girl my own age, and she helped me find my way home. We agreed to meet again, and so we did. Every year, at the festivals, when I could cross the border the easiest.”

“Sounds like a lot o’ risk and trouble.”

“It was, at times.” Grace pulled her cloak a little tighter, inching closer to the fire as she did so. “But we became friends, and I have few… besides, Niamh was kind when my parents died. And when we got older, we got into all sorts of mischief together.”

Ewan raised an eyebrow. He’d seen Niamh interact with his brother and there was no denying she was spirited, but she hadn’t seemed inclined to mischief. Not when he’d observed her, though he supposed Alistair might have a different opinion. “Mischief?”

“Yes. As children, it was harmless little jokes, but when we grew older, we created our list of sins.”

Ewan felt a surge of renewed interest. “Yer list o’ sins?”

Grace blinked. “Did Niamh not tell you about that?”

Ewan grunted. “Nae more than the basic message. I’ve nae idea what the words mean.”

“Oh.” Grace blushed. “I thought Niamh told you…”

“She didnae. But I’ll admit I’m curious.” Ewan moved closer and put some more peat on the fire. “Will ye tell me?”