Page 27 of The Highlander’s Dangerous Desire

“Roastin’ the meat. Some o’ it we’ll eat for breakfast. Some o’ it we’ll eat on the road later.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Usually, I’d make a stew with the rabbit an’ some oat cake tae thicken it, an’ whatever herbs I can find, but then we’d be half the day afore we began.” He paused. “O’ course, if ye’d prefer that…”

“No. I would far rather reach Niamh as soon as possible.” Grace shook her head. “Should we gather our things while the meat roasts?”

Ewan hesitated, then nodded. “Aye. An’ refill the water skins.”

Together, they shook out the blankets, brushed the horses, saddled and bridled the animals, loaded up the pack horses, and took care of the other tasks that needed doing. Grace did her best to help, but Ewan still did the larger portion of the work.

Several times, she thought she caught Ewan gazing at her, but as soon as she tried to meet his eyes, he would look away. It was a small thing, but it made her that much more aware of Ewan, and it confused her.

It felt as if he was also treating her differently. With more respect, perhaps, or more consideration. The differences were subtle, but she felt them keenly. They mirrored her own sense that Ewan was not the man she had thought he was.

Her first impression of Ewan had been of a man who was a gruff, sullen warrior, who cared only for fulfilling a duty - and an unwelcome one at that. But she’d come to see a different side of him - kind, gentle, patient. He might be taciturn, but he was not as cold and unfeeling, or even as rude as she had first assumed him to be.

Her mind went back to the story he’d told the night before. He’d told it quietly and calmly, but she’d heard the notes of pain in his voice, and the grief that he carefully controlled. He’d spoken of how the loss of his father and his brother’s betrothed had affected his brother, but she had been able to tell from the tone of his voice that he grieved as well.

She knew grief, and she knew what it was like to lose a father. She’d never thought they’d have such a thing in common, and it made her feel closer to Ewan.

The more she learned about the dour Scotsman Niamh, or rather her husband, had chosen as her escort, the more she found herself admiring him. She was even beginning, however reluctantly, to enjoy his company.

And, unless she was greatly mistaken, it seemed as if he might feel the same way.

She’d said the previous night that she wouldn’t fall in love with him, and she was certain that was the truth, but she couldn’t help feeling that she might be able to become friends with him.

“Somethin’ on yer mind?” Ewan’s question startled her so much that she jumped and nearly spilled her water skin.

“I was just wondering if where we currently were.” She wasn’t about to admit where her thoughts had truly wandered.

“Och. Highlands. I thought I said so yesterday.”

Grace blushed. “You did, however, I wanted to be sure. And you said we are within a seven-day of your home?”

“Aye.” Ewan nodded. “So long as the weather holds good and clear.”

By the time they finished loading the horses, the rabbit was done. To Grace’s surprise, it was far more tender and flavorful than she’d expected. She blinked at the small green shreds in on the rabbit. “What is this?”

“First spring onions, an a bit o’ water cress. Ye can find it in the rivers.”

“It is tasty. Is all Scottish food like this?”

Ewan actually smiled. “Scottish food is what each clan an’ each man or woman makes o’ it. I’ve kent men who never make more than charred bannock an’ charred meat on a stick when they cook over a fire. An’ men who can make a full feast with nay more than what they scrounge up in half a candle-mark.”

Grace smiled. “You seem to do well enough.”

“Thank ye.”

They finished the meal and washed up, and began the day’s travel. Grace found herself watching Ewan as he rode, admiring the smooth movement of his muscles and the easy way he sat on his horse. She was a fair rider, but Ewan rode as if he had been born in the saddle. He had an easy way of handling himself and the horse that made it seem as if he’d been riding all his life.

They spent the day following the narrow trail until it reached a wider track, and then a rough-hewn road. They stopped for lunch at a tavern, and for the night at a small inn, then woke to repeat the pattern the next day, and the day following that.

Grace tried to keep her thoughts on Niamh, and what she would say once she saw her friend. Then she tried to think of what her uncle would be doing now. Would he have sent out searchers? Did he believe the letter she’d written, or were there Lancaster men even now searching the surrounding countryside for her?

But thinking of Lancaster soldiers only brought her thoughts back to Ewan, and her certainty that he would easily overpower her uncle’s men - though she doubted they would venture so far into Scottish lands to look for her. Her uncle would never think that she would go directly into enemy territory, much less travel so far into such a dangerous place.

Their fourth day took them through a moderately sized village. The houses were stone, and there were an inn and tavern with two floors. Ewan shrugged. “Tradin’ hub between clans. ‘Tis one o’ the neutral villages. We’re only a day or two from Castle MacDuff.”

Grace followed him to the stable and the two of them dismounted. Ewan handed the stable lad the reins and a few coins, then led her toward the door. They were halfway there when someone shouted. “Och, look out!”

Grace started to turn. She caught a glimpse of horses, heard a high-pitched whinny, saw the horses lunge forward…