Page 11 of The Highlander’s Dangerous Desire (Kilted Kisses #2)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

T he meal at the inn refreshed Grace. The looks she caught Ewan giving her as they rode made her feel… she wasn’t sure. Ewan confused her. The way they’d argued last night had been upsetting, but the gentleness he’d shown her earlier that morning had been soothing, even comforting. And the expression on his face when she’d defended him to the farmers had been… he looked at her like it was the first time he was seeing her.

Admiring. Confused. The look on his face had mirrored the feelings she was beginning to have for him.

Ewan was strong, courageous, stubborn and occasionally temperamental. He was also patient when teaching her how to ride, and gentle when helping her with things like combing her hair. The more she found out about him, the more Ewan MacDuff defied easy description, and the less she found herself disliking him.

He was a Scotsman, a Highlander. His clan might not be the one who had killed her parents, but there was also no certainty that they weren’t allies. And yet, as she learned more about him, it seemed to matter less and less.

They rode from the tavern in companionable silence, knee and knee so Ewan could watch over her in case something startled the horses. The weather was crisp, just warm enough to take the chillout of the air as they traveled, and Grace took the opportunity to enjoy the scent of heather - something she’d never had the opportunity to experience before this journey.

A thought occurred to her, and she turned to Ewan. “How much further to your lands? We’ve been riding for almost a full seven-day.”

“An’ we’ll ride fer at least five days more, by me reckoning. An that’s if there are nay storms tae delay us, like the one yesterday.” Ewan shrugged. “’Tis common Highland weather.”

“Such a long journey…” Grace sighed. “I had no idea it was such a distance.” A rueful smile curved her mouth. “In truth, I had no idea that the Scottish lands were so… vast…”

“Large enough. Though, in truth, ‘tis the terrain that makes the journey slow. An’ the extra horses. A messenger ridin’ alone can ride the distance in seven tae ten days, sometimes less with a fast horse an’ good weather.”

Ewan gestured to the stony ground that surrounded the road. “’Tis good, strong land, but hard. Needs tae be treated with respect, and traveled the same way.”

She could see it. “It is as if the land is its own fortress.”

“Aye. ‘Tis. Lowlanders try tae tame it. Highlanders learn tae rise an’ fall with the hills and valleys, the lochs and the cliffs.” There was an unmistakable pride in his voice, and Grace found herself looking at the land around them with new eyes.

“How long will we be in the Lowlands?”

“We’ll cross intae the Highlands sometime taeday.” Ewan gave a wry smile. “Mayhap mornin’ taemorrow. ‘Tis why those men were so vocal…. so close tae the border, folk in opposite villages are either the best o’ friends or the worst o’ rivals.”

Whar he said made her think of her friendship with Niamh. But there was a note in his voice that sounded as though there was a story there about him. Perhaps several stories. For the first time, Grace wondered about those tales, about the life Ewan had lived. He was a warrior and the brother of a lord - a laird as they called them in the Highlands - but what else was he?

She longed to ask, to search for answers and tales to match the ones she had shared the night before. But it was only fair to let Ewan tell his story in his own time, if indeed he felt like telling her anything at all. She was, after all, just an English lass.

And yet, what reason did she have to remain ‘just an English lass’? She’d spent many years envying Niamh for her freedom. And now she was riding across Scotland in the care of a Highlander, so why shouldn’t she try to experience more of the life that Niamh had always known? Even if, eventually, she would be forced to return to the suffocating confines of her uncle’s estate, she would have these memories.

The thought made it easier to relax into the saddle and enjoy the steady pace. The first two days had been painful beyond belief, but between Ewan’s watchful care and his salve, she had recovered, and now her muscles only twinged the way they did after candle-marks at any task. She was rather proud of her progress, and the knowledge that her uncle would have been furious to see her sitting astride a horse made it all the sweeter.

She looked around at the surrounding landscape once more. “It is beautiful country.”

“Aye.” Ewan frowned. “Unfortunately, ‘tis nae the most forgiving o’ countries fer sleepin’ under the stars.”

Grace swallowed. “You mean…”

“We may have tae sleep in the open fer a night.”

Grace bit her lip. Sleeping in barns and cobbled together huts was one thing - but to sleep under the open sky, where wolves or weather might cause them harm? “But… can we not continue riding until we reach a village?”

Ewan grunted. “’Tis nae impossible, but ‘tis considered unwise tae ride after nightfall. The roads are rough, an’ a misstep in the dark can lame a horse. Or send ye intae the jaws o’ wolves. Or worse.”

“Worse?” What could be worse than wolves?”

Ewan smiled. “There’s all manner o’ strange beings in the Highlands. Fae folk. ‘Tis nae impossible tae encounter them. ‘Tis why nay Highlander will attempt tae catch a horse seen under moon and starlight. ‘Tis just as like tae be a pooka as ‘tis a moor pony. Or a kelpie, if ye’re by the lochs.”

Grace shivered. “And you would feel safe sleeping outside?”

She couldn’t imagine risking such an encounter, on top of the other dangers she knew of, but Ewan only shrugged. “Fire will protect ye from most things, good cover from others, an’ a Scotsman kens how tae stay safe from the rest of the dangers.”

But I am not a Scotsman… or a Scotswoman.

Still, if Ewan was confident of his ability to keep them safe, then she would trust him, as she had thus far. “Very well. If you judge it to be necessary, then I am not opposed to spending a night or two out in the open.”

“Are ye sure?”

“I am.” She wasn’t, but she didn’t want Ewan to think she was weak or soft. Besides, she was curious. She had never slept outside before.

“If ye’re sure, then we’ll press on till dusk. We’ll look fer a stand o’ likely trees or an overhang in the rocks.” Ewan nudged his horse into a slightly faster gait, and Grace followed suit.

She wasn’t sure what she thought about the idea of sleeping on bare ground, especially if there was a chance that a storm could occur in the night. Or about the fact that wolves might get them. Or about the weather turning cold, as it had on occasion.

However, now that she’d agreed, she wasn’t going to change her mind. And perhaps it wouldn’t be as difficult as she feared. After all, she’d never slept in a barn or a messenger’s hut before this journey began, and both had been… tolerable.

The sun was low in the sky when Ewan found what he was looking for - a stand of trees near a low rock outcropping. It was a place he recalled passing by and marking as a potential camping site. The rocks and trees formed a rudimentary shelter that would protect from storms. There were no signs of wolves denning, or bandits using the space as a recent shelter, which meant it was relatively safe from predators, at least for the night.

Ewan guided the horses to the spot and dismounted. “We’ll camp here fer the night.”

He half expected a protest, but Grace nodded and dismounted. She still moved a bit stiffly, but she was far more comfortable than she’d been days before. Without protest, she led the mare over to the other horses and began to assist him with removing the tack and setting aside the packs for the night. Once they were done with that, she hesitated. “I have no experience… how does sleeping outdoors work?”

“The same as sleepin’ anywhere else, I suppose.” Ewan spotted the serious expression on her face and relented from his efforts at teasing. “We’ll spread the horse blankets on the ground for some cover, build a fire, make some food.”

“And use… our cloaks for blankets?”

“An’ the saddles for pillows o’ a sort.” Ewan nodded.

Grace nodded. “I can…” A branch cracked under Ewan’s boot as he moved to set aside the travel case from the last horse. Grace jumped. “What was that?”

“Just a branch underfoot.” Ewan smothered his laughter with an effort. “Dinnae fret.”

Grace nodded. “I can gather wood for the fire.”

“Gather some small branches, or even twigs, an’ leaves first, afore ye get the larger branches.” He made a gesture with his hands to demonstrate.

“How would that create a proper fire?” Grace frowned.

“Tinder. ‘Twill light easier and help the fire catch.” Ewan paused. “Och, and dinnae forget tae get some stones tae form a fire ring. We dinnae want the sparks tae escape, nor one o’ us tae accidentally be rollin’ intae the fire.”

“Surely that never happens.” Grace stared at him, and Ewan found himself smiling, just slightly.

“’Tis nature tae be seeking warmth. Without the fire ring, warriors have been kent tae to roll intae the embers.” He’d never done it himself, of course, but then Alistair and his father had taught him the proper way to build a fire.

After a moment, Grace moved off to gather materials. Ewan turned his attention to setting up camp, and checking their stores of food. They were in need of more supplies, but they had plenty of bannocks and dried meat. After a moment, Ewan took the bowls he carried as well some leather ties. “I’m off tae seek a stream, an’ tae set up a snare. Might get naething, might get lucky an’ catch a rabbit or somethin’ else.”

“A rabbit? Can ye…”

“Och, I can cook a rabbit over an open fire. An’ if I dinnae get one, we’ll have meat broth an’ twice-baked bannocks, with whatever herbs I might be able tae scrounge.”

Grace blinked. “Bannocks?”

“Oat cakes. Often we use ‘em fer travel bread, because they last a fair long time an can be eaten in several different ways. But ye can bake them a little more in a fire, an’ the fire can flavor ‘em.”

“You must be jesting.”

Ewan smirked. “Ye’ll see.” He gestured to the wood in her arms. “Try tae set up a fire ring while I’m lookin’. At least the length o’ yer forearm from one side tae the other.”

It took him a few moments of careful listening to trace his way to the stream he thought he’d heard, then to set his snare and fill the old, dented bowls he carried with him when traveling with water. They would serve to boil the meat and soften it into a rudimentary sort of stew. Unless, of course, he managed to snare a rabbit.

He returned to find a lopsided ring in the dirt, and a haphazard pile of twigs and leaves in the center. It wasn’t much of a fire circle, but it was a very spirited effort. Ewan crouched beside Grace and carefully helped to rearrange the stones into a slightly more sturdy configuration. “’Tis a good attempt. Dae ye have the larger sticks as well?”

“I have some.” Grace pointed to a small - almost laughably small, in Ewan’s opinion - stack of medium sized wood.

“Good.” Ewan withdrew his flint and steel, then tapped them together. “Here, this is how ye get sparks. Ye strike flint and steel and watch fer them tae catch.”

It took a moment, but then he spotted the tell-tale whisper of smoke. “When ye see the first smoke, ye have tae be careful. Blow gently. As if ye were tryin’ tae float a feather.”

Grace bent and blew. Her first effort made the spark die. “Too hard.”

It took four attempts before the sparks caught in the tinder. From there, Ewan showed her how to add more tinder to the flame, until the fire was steady enough for the larger wood. Then he went and got small logs that burned a little longer. Before he left, he dug the bowls into the edge of the fire, between the stones and the flame. “Watch that, an’ add more water if it begins tae boil dry.”

Ewan gathered wood in the growing darkness, then went to check the snare. It hadn’t been disturbed, but that didn’t surprise him. He left it, with some bannock crumbs and green leaves in the center. Even if it didn’t provide dinner, the snare might provide breakfast.

He returned as the last light began to fade. Grace was sitting huddled next to the fire, watching the bowls and jumping every time a twig cracked. “Are ye all right?”

Grace jolted and almost fell into the fire. “Don’t sneak so quietly! I thought you might be… wolves.”

“They’d nae come so close tae a fire, nae unless they were starvin. ‘Tis usually only in winter that they’re so bold.”

A bird made a soft, twilight noise. Grace gasped and whipped around. “What was that?”

Ewan chuckled. “’Twas a bird.”

Grace scowled at him. “I know it was a bird, but what kind of bird? Will it attack us?”

“Nae at night. Only owls are active in the night, and they dinnae like the fire light.” Ewan reached out and gently wrapped an arm around Grace’s shoulders. “Ye’ve naething tae fear.”

“I know. It is just… I am not used to being outdoors after night falls. And I am not terribly familiar with noises in the wilds.” A hesitation. “Or the Highlands.”

“Ye dinnae need tae fear anything that is nae wolves howling, an’ ye’ll ken them well enough if they sound.”

Grace blinked at him. “But, you mentioned pookas…and other things…”

“Dinnae approach any wild horses, and ye’ll be fine.” Ewan smiled and dared to tug her closer to his shoulder. To his surprise, Grace leaned against him without comment. “I’ll keep ye safe from the rest.”

“I believe ye.” She was still shivering, and Ewan took her hand in his own, one eye on the bowls simmering in the fire while he rubbed soft, soothing circles on the back of her hand.

“Ye’re safe with me. There’s naught tae fear, and naething in these woods I cannae handle. The rocks will provide shelter if a storm comes, and we’ll hear aught else that comes.”

In the distance, he heard a snap and smiled. “There… that was me snare. We’ll have extra meat for breakfast.”

“You eat meat for breakfast?”

“When I can.” Ewan reached for some of the bannocks on the fire. “Here. Try this. It tastes better than ye think.”

Grace nibbled it with a look of trepidation on her face. Then she blinked, surprised. “That is…”

“Aye. Now, try dipping it in the broth bein’ formed by the meat stewin’ in the bowls.”

Grace did so. Her eyes widened. “Oh. I’ve never… I would never have imagined that dried meat and oat cakes could taste like that.”

“That’s bannocks an’ hearth stew fer ye.” Ewan stuck his own bannock in the stew. The spices from the meat had infused the liquid, giving added flavor to the slight char on the oat cake.

“And the snare?”

“Likely rabbit. Can make rabbit and watercress, or somethin’ similar in the morning.”

Grace nodded. She took several more bites. Then she seemed to realize how close she was to him, and pulled back with flushed cheeks. “I… I’m sorry… it is not proper to be seated so close together. I am unmarried, and you…”

“I’ll nae tell if ye dinnae.” Ewan chuckled. “’Tis only fer warmth and safety in the night, lass.” He let his voice drop lower. “Just like in the hut.”

“You rogue.” Grace’s voice lacked the heat of anger. She sounded almost teasing. She also didn’t pull away. Instead, she even relaxed into his shoulder.

Ewan swallowed, his throat suddenly dry and his leggings suddenly tight about the groin area. He’d held many a woman in his arms, but holding Grace was different. Different from the women who’d shared his bed for a night or two.

Holding Grace made his heart beat and his blood heat in a way he couldn’t remember ever feeling before. He tried to ignore the feeling, but it seemed to seep through his veins like the warmth of a potent glass of whiskey.

An owl hooted, and Grace shivered. “What…”

“Just a bird. An owl, huntin’ mice.”

Grace stiffened. “Are there… mice? Out here?”

“Mice, voles, all manner o’ creatures. But they’ll nae come near a fire, and they generally shy away from people. They ken that we’re greater threats than those they’re familiar with, an’ keep themselves scarce.” It may have been a mouse or a vole that had gotten caught in his snare, but he wasn’t about to mention that to Grace.

“I have no idea how I shall possibly be able to sleep.” Grace shivered again. “It is all so… unfamiliar. Every sound…”

Ewan wrapped his arm around her, using his cloak and the extra warmth as an excuse. “Just relax. Ye’re safe.”

“Will you tell me something? A story, to take my mind off the sounds?”

The request felt a little ridiculous, but it was an easy enough one to fulfill. “If ye like. What sort o’ story?”

Her free hand traced over the back of his arm. Then she frowned and tugged on the sleeve to reveal the end of a long scar on his forearm. “What happened here?”

Ewan grimaced. “’Tis nae a comforting story.”

“I did not ask for a comforting story.” Her eyes regarded him quietly, solemnly.

“Aye. ‘Tis true enough.” He paused, considering his words. “I took that two years ago. Me braither was betrothed tae a local lass. She was visiting her family but we were at feud with a neighboring clan, an’ me braither was the war leader, so me faither decided tae escort her home. But they were ambushed on the road, by members o’ the clan we were in feud with. Scouts raced tae warn us, an’ Alistair and I went tae their rescue, but ‘twas too late. ‘Twas a hard fight, an’ all o’ us came away with wounds, but neither faither nor me braither’s betrothed survived. We scarcely arrived in time fer him tae say farewell.”

“That sounds terrible.” There was sympathy in her voice.

“’Twas. Fer Alistair even more than me.” Ewan grimaced. “He took the deaths hard.”

“But he married Niamh, only a year later?” Now there was curiosity in her voice.

“The clan wanted him tae have a wife an’ heir. Niamh’s maither was from a cadet line o’ our clan, and they offered tae assist her clan an’ ours, if we ensured she made a proper Highland marriage.” Ewan huffed. “Never saw a man an’ a woman less inclined tae marry.”

“But they did get married.” There was a note of hurt in her voice.

“Aye. For the sake o’ their kinfolk. Lovin’ came later, though I could tell they were a bit fond o’ each other when they arrived.”

“What was it like, when you first met her?”

“Och, ‘twas nae much o’ a first meeting. She rode in with me braither, but me cousin carried her off near as soon as her feet touched the ground.” Ewan chuckled, remembering the slight young woman who’d slid off the horse into his brother’s arms. “I heard later from Alistair that they had had quite the journey.”

“Rather like ours. However, I don’t believe I shall be falling in love with you.”

The words stung more than he’d expected them to, but he did his best to keep the sharpness from his voice. “Dinnae expect ye tae.”

She sighed. “I confess, I am surprised. Though I suppose I should not be. Niamh is a kind and caring soul, full of laughter, even though she had no mother to raise her. I have often envied that about her. That, and her willingness to overlook all differences that others might find divisive.”

“How dae ye mean?”

“She was kind to me, after my parents died. But there was a time, when I was old enough to understand the divide between Scottish and English, and to comprehend that the Scottish had been the cause of my parents deaths, and I thought I would hate her for that. And a time when I thought she would hate me, as so many of her kinfolk did.”

“Cannae see that happening. She’s a loyal lass.” Ewan kept his voice soft, but he had to admit, he was curious. This was a side of Niamh he didn’t know. And a story from Grace’s past that he hadn’t heard before. He wondered if Alistair knew the story.

“That is what I discovered. I met her that year, and I asked her how she could consider us friends, since she is Scottish and I am English. She said to me that it would only ever matter to her, if she could use it in her lists of sins to convince a suitor to go away. We laughed together about that for most of the day. How to introduce ‘my improper friend from across the Lowland border’.” There was rueful laughter in her voice.

Ewan chuckled. “Did ye ever use that excuse?”

“No. Neither one of us ever had cause. Though I admit, I was fair tempted after my uncle introduced me to the last few.” Grace shook her head.

They’d both finished their food, and Grace was gradually relaxing against him, her words going softer and slower. She didn’t even shift uneasily when the fire crackled. Ewan let the silence fall and deepen for a few moments, then tipped his head to look over her shoulder.

Grace was asleep. Ewan smiled and gently eased her to the blankets. The ground beneath them was rough and lumpy, but Grace never stirred.

Ewan arranged his cloak over both of them, and closed his eyes to get what rest he could.

He fell asleep with Grace in his arms, and a warmth in his heart that he couldn’t remember ever feeling before.