Page 47 of The Highlander’s Dangerous Desire

Grace swallowed. “I do not know. He is not the brute I originally thought he was, and we seem to have moved past the hatred between the English and the Scottish, however…”

“Somethin’ troubles ye.”

“I don’t know. Sometimes, Ewan seems kind and considerate. Others, he seems cold and distant, harsh even. He protected me so well during the journey, but he also… he keeps telling people I am his betrothed, to protect me, he says, and because of his position… it is very confusing. I can never be certain what is pretense and what is truth, and yet, he strikes me as generally an honest man…” Grace trailed off.

“He is very honest. Though fair guarded, I will admit. I had trouble getting tae ken him as well.” Niamh nodded. “But ye seem to have become friendly with him.”

“I’m not at all certain.”

Niamh smiled. “Och, he’d nae be asking ye tae stand as his betrothed, if he didnae like ye at least a little. Ewan’s nae the sort.”

“He said it was in order to protect me, and also to help protect his position with the clan he is overseeing, that he hopes to become lord of…”

“Aye. But he wouldnae suggest it if he werenae comfortable with the chance that it might become truth. He’d claim ye as a sister or a cousin, or somethin’ o’ the sort, raised close tae the Lowland border.” Niamh sounded so certain that Grace almost believed her.

Then she recalled how Ewan had pulled away after the night of passion they’d shared. The cold way he’d spoken to her, and how he’d scarcely looked in her direction. “He may tolerate me more than he would someone else who is English, but… affection… no. I think it is only kindness and necessity, and that only because I am your friend, and you are his brother’s wife.”

The words hurt to say, but what else was she supposed to believe.

“Och, I cannae think Ewan would be so foolish.” Niamh paused. “Fer that matter, I cannae see ye agreein’, unless ye had some feelings o’ yer own on the matter, and the man.”

Niamh was right, but Grace had no interest in discussing the topic further, or allowing herself to consider what those feelings might be. “Please, Niamh. I… I do not wish to speak of this. Please, trust me that I know the situation better than you do, and that I am confident in my understanding of Ewan’s behavior.”

Niamh looked as if she wanted to protest, but in the end she nodded. “As ye will. I’ll nae press ye.” She reached out and took Grace’s hand. “Well, whatever there is or isnae between ye, I’m fair glad Ewan was there tae protect and guide ye.”

“As am I.” Grace took a sip of her cooled tea, and decided to change the subject. “But come, you have not told me of your own adventures, with your Alistair. And really, I should like to know why you did not warn me that there is such tension between Highlanders and Lowlanders. I did not even realize there was any true difference!”

“Och, there is. And I didnae ken much o’ it meself, until I came here with Alistair. All I kent was that me maither had been cast from her clan fer lovin’ a Lowlander - I never did ken why. But the food, the customs, even some o’ the language is different here! An’ the folk are different tae.”

“So I’ve seen. And Ewan mentioned something about the Samhain feast - what is that?”

“’Tis…” Grace started to speak, only to be interrupted by a knock on the door, which then opened to reveal a woman. Niamh blinked at her. “Catriona? Surely ‘tis nae time already.”

“Near enough. But I wanted tae meet yer guest as well.” The woman’s accent was deeper, richer than Niamh’s, and her voice was warm and welcoming as she turned in Grace’s direction. “’Tis a pleasure tae meet ye. I’m Catriona MacLean, the healer o’ MacDuff. If ye need aught, ye’re tae come tae me.”

Catriona MacLean was like no one Grace had ever met before. She was slim but her muscles were toned, her skin a pale tan. She had oak-colored hair and brown eyes, but her hair was braided in small braids that formed intricate patterns like some of the knotwork Grace had seen, and her eyes shimmered with good humor and vibrant intelligence. She had all the manners of a well-bred young woman, and all the down-to-earth forthrightness of a farmer’s daughter.

Grace liked her at once. “Thank you for the greeting. I will certainly come to you if I need anything.”

Catriona’s eyes lit up. “Och, ye’re English! Have ye been tae London? I’ve heard they have the most fascinatin’ healers an’ apothecaries there! An’ printed herbals with clear pictures, that describe plants from the Continent even!”

“I… I have been to London, but I confess, I do not know much about the apothecaries. Or written herbals, though I have been curious about herb lore.” Grace swallowed. “My uncle, who raised me, however, was of the opinion that such knowledge was better left to spinsters and servants, not young ladies.”

“Then yer uncle was a right braw fool, an’ I’d be kickin’ him somewhere tae make him sing a high note if I met him, certain sure.” Catriona announced, so fiercely that Grace had to laugh, her earlier melancholy over Ewan forgotten. “Only a proper lout disdains proper knowledge.”

She huffed. “And ‘proper knowledge for proper ladies’ indeed. Isnae a lady o’ the Highlands or Lowlands that cannae tell ye at least somethin’ o’ what this an’ that is good for, even if they arenae healers.”

The words made Grace smile more, remembering some similar things Ewan had said. “My uncle has… very strict ideas about how a young woman in his household should behave.” She glanced at Niamh. “Did you know, I had never learned to ride astride, before I began the journey northward? My uncle insisted on side-saddle.”

Catriona scoffed. “Side-saddle willnae keep ye safe on a horse in rough terrain or at a hard run.”

“So I learned…” Grace smiled ruefully. “My mare tossed me in a stream on the second day. Ewan had to teach me…” She trailed off as the now-familiar ache assailed her.

Perhaps Catriona caught some glance from Niamh, or perhaps she only sensed Grace’s mood, for she made no effort to ask further. Instead, she smiled. “Well, at least someone did teach ye a sensible way o’ sittin’ a horse. But fer now, ‘tis time for Niamh tae tak’ her tonic, and then we can talk about things any lass needs tae ken in the Highlands, ‘til is time tae freshen up fer supper.”

With that, the healer went to get a bottle from the other room, and the talk turned to customs and stories of the Highlands. Grace finished her tea and collected a fresh cup, then settled in to enjoy the conversation. Uncle William almost never let her have visitors, unless they were suitors, and she had missed being able to talk freely with others of her own age and gender.

And if listening to the MacDuff Clan healer could keep her thoughts away from Ewan MacDuff, and the considerations Niamh had tried to raise, then so much the better.