Page 28 of The Highlander’s Dangerous Desire

Ewan caught her and dragged her hard against the building, protecting her with his body as the cart thundered past. Grace heard Ewan grunt as the back corner clipped his shoulder and shoved him closer to her. Then the cart was gone, with several men hurrying after it.

Slowly, Ewan straightened. “Och… must have been a sharp stone. Or a bitin’ fly. Or a thistle blown under the bridle.”

Grace didn’t care what had caused the horse to bolt. She was looking at the way Ewan straightened. His back and shoulders were stiff, and his expression was tight in a way she’d last seen after the fight with the bandits. “Are you all right?”

“I’ll live.” His gaze sharpened. “Ye’re hurt.”

His thumb touched her cheek, light as a butterfly’s wing, and it was then that she felt a sharp stinging across her cheekbone, half an inch below her eye. “I’ll get the salve fer ye.”

“Only if you agree to permit me to determine if you have any wounds that need tending.” Grace frowned at him. “You were hit by the cart.”

Ewan grimaced. “Och, I’m well aware o’ that. I’m nae prideful enough tae pretend it didnae clip me shoulder. An’ it feels like it might have tak’n the hide off my back. It’s sure tae bruise as well.”

The two of them retraced their steps to the stable, where Ewan sent the boy to get his pack, and then collected the salve. He dipped his finger into the ointment and swiped it across her cheek. The cool sting settled in and alleviated the sharp burn of pain. Ewan hesitated, then handed her the salve. He unlaced his vest, then tugged off his sash, vest and the sleeve of his shirt. “How bad is it?”

Grace winced. “It is… you are likely to be very uncomfortable for a time.”

Ewan’s left shoulder was already red, darkening to the dark blue-black of bruising. Across that surface, there were half-a-dozen cuts. Most of them were minor, but two of them were deep and bleeding, the slow red drops trailing down the tanned and toned skin of his back. Grace swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry as she studied the muscles as they shifted.

“I need some cloth to stop the bleeding.”

Ewan grunted and handed her a cloth from somewhere, and his water skin. Grace tipped some water onto the cloth, and began to carefully clean his shoulder. Once the bleeding had stopped, she applied the salve in a thin, even layer. “I have no idea how to bandage this.”

“Ye dinnae need tae. With the salve, ‘twill be enough. Me shirt and vest will keep the dirt out o’ the wound til it heals.” Ewan shrugged his way back into his clothing.

He tucked the salve into his belt pouch, and the two of them returned to the street. After a careful look to ensure there were no more carts, they made their way to the tavern. Inside, Ewan directed Grace to a table, while he went to the bar to request two plates and a tankard for himself and a glass of cider for her.

Ewan had just settled at the table when a slender young man walked to the table and dipped his head. “M’laird Ewan?”

Ewan turned. “Aye?”

The young man bowed. “Master Devlin told me tae be waitin’ fer ye, me laird. Said ye’d come by this road, or back tae Castle MacDuff an’ I was tae watch fer ye. I’ve a message.”

Ewan’s whole demeanor changed. His shoulders stiffened, and any trace of levity or relaxation vanished from his face. “Aye?”

The young man nodded. “Aye. Two villages were burned, near the holdin’s o’ Master MacGavin an’ Master Aster. They’re thinkin’ ‘twas… well, Master Devlin didnae say. But he says ye need tae come home with all speed.”

Ewan swore.

He’d known there was a chance that something might happen, especially after Devlin’s first message had reached him. He’d hoped the issue of Gael MacTavish would wait until he returned, but he didn’t think that Devlin would have sent a messenger to seek him on the road if the fires had been caused by storms or bandits.

He hadn’t intended on taking Grace anywhere near MacTavish lands. He’d told the council he was seeking an alliance with Laird Cameron and that perhaps he would also be looking to court the daughter of a Lowland laird, upon suggestion of his sister-in-law. It was an excuse to stay away for a month without raising too much suspicion or discontent. Thus, if he turned up with a young woman riding beside him, they would assume a certain kind of alliance had been formed, that he’d chosen a bride as well as an alliance with Laird Cameron.

He’d never told Grace that his clan expected him to have a potential betrothal partner with him when he returned. And he’d never told his advisor Devlin or the rest of Clan MacTavish’s Council of Elders that the lass he would be returning with was English.

His original plan had been to take Grace to Castle MacDuff and leave her with Niamh, before returning to MacTavish Keep and the matter of Gael MacTavish. But the fires changed everything. If they were the result of bandits, then he had to be there to lead the troops in smoking them out and driving them beyond the borders of their lands.

If they were, in fact, the work of Gael MacTavish, then his presence was even more critical. The purpose of the fires would be to discredit him as an absent laird, and a weak man. When it was added to the fact that Gael supposedly had a family, then the would-be laird had a clear advantage.

The only way he could defend his position as the provisional Laird MacTavish, the Overseer, let alone hope to potentially become a laird in his own right, was to return to his own lands with all speed, and with Grace Lancaster by his side.

And even then, it was likely to be a difficult homecoming.

“Ewan?” A hand touched his arm, and he jolted out of his thoughts to find Grace and the messenger boy staring at him.

“I’ve the message, lad. Get some rest and food. We’ll ride for MacTavish Keep as soon as we’ve eaten.”

Grace startled. “But… I thought Niamh was at MacDuff Castle.”