Page 17 of The Highlander’s Dangerous Desire (Kilted Kisses #2)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“ A re you comfortable?” Grace watched as Ewan settled back in his bed, grimacing at the pressure on his healing wounds. “How are your wounds?”

“I’m fine. Ye neednae fret.” Ewan smiled at her, his eyes warm, despite the obvious discomfort he was in. “Ye heard the healer. I’m recovering fine, an’ in another day I’ll be well. Then I can tak’ ye tae see Niamh.”

“I am not fretting about visiting Niamh. I have already sent a letter to her explaining the delay, along with the letter your second-in-command sent to Lord MacDuff.” Grace reached out and tucked the blankets a little closer about Ewan’s shoulders. “My concern is entirely for you.”

Ewan’s color did look much better, but knowing that he was recovering only brought to mind something that Grace had avoided thinking about since the night of the attack.

The kiss. That fierce, powerful kiss. It had awakened feelings she hadn’t even considered having - longing, and desire. But it had also awakened uncertainty.

Why had Ewan kissed her? She was, so far as she knew, little more than a duty to him - an English lass he was tasked with escorting to her dearest friend, who happened to be kin-by-marriage. True, there was the fiction between them that she was his betrothed, but surely that was nothing more than a way to help secure his lordship.

She wanted to believe that, but the memory of his expression as he’d charged into the room - that expression had been far more intense than either duty or pretence warranted. And the kiss… how could any man kiss like that for nothing more than show? And shoe for whom, as he had been alone?

His actions were almost as confusing as her response to him. She hadn’t pushed him away - hadn’t wanted to push him away. Her first emotion, upon seeing him, had been relief. If she was being honest with herself, she had been happy, wrapped in his embrace. There was a large part of her that yearned to be in his arms again. Being in his arms had been wonderful, until he’d fallen.

Then, seeing him collapse had been terrifying.

And now there was a part of her, deep in her heart, that whispered and yearned for more. But she had no assurance that Ewan felt the same way, even if he had kissed her.

She hadn’t been able to ask him about it while he was fevered, of course. He had been too ill, and she had been too concerned with his wounds and the illness itself to think on the matter. But now that he was recovering, the question hovered in her mind like the smoke from a fire, mingled with fear and hope for what his answer might be.

“What’s wrong? Ye look like someone spat in yer wine.” Ewan’s soft question brought her out of her thoughts.

“If someone spat in my wine , as you put it, I am certain I should throw it right back in their face.” Ewan chuckled, and she felt herself relax. There was fondness, even respect, between them.

Her secret dreams might come to naught, but at least she would have the friendship they had gained over the long journey from her home in Lancaster. “It is only a small matter that I have been worrying over for some days.”

“Aye? Has someone said or done aught tae upset ye?”

“Not upset, so much as…” Grace paused. The question was there, on the tip of her tongue, and yet, she couldn’t seem to make herself speak it. “The night of the fire… I was very concerned for you.”

“An’ I fer ye. When they told me the fire had entered the castle, I was sore worried ye’d be caught in it.” Ewan shook his head. “I kent even then that ye wouldnae obey me and stay safe in hiding. ‘Tis nae yer nature.”

“No. It is not. But afterward… when the fire was put out and the attackers driven off… I had been overwhelmed by the smoke. But you… you found me…”

“After searching an’ goin’ half out o’ me mind with worry, aye.”

“And when you found me… you…” Her words tangled, tripping over themselves.

“Are ye wonderin’ about when I near broke down the door tae find ye, or when I kissed ye?” Ewan’s voice was soft.

Grace stiffened. “You recall that?”

Ewan offered her a crooked little smile. “I recall everythin’, right up until the world went black an’ I fell tae the floor at yer feet.”

“Oh.” Grace swallowed. She’d been prepared to tell him about the kiss, but realizing that he already remembered - that was different. Or perhaps it was not. “You… why did you kiss me? What on earth prompted you to do such a thing, and in such a situation? Why, you had scarce left the battlefield, and you had not even been to see the healer. What on earth was so important that you would act so carelessly?”

“I was worried fer ye.” The easy, honest admission startled her. “I wanted tae make sure ye were safe.”

“I understand that much. But, why kiss me…?”

“I didnae think about that.” Ewan reached out to her and took her hand, then gently drew her to sit on the side of his bed. Grace sat down carefully. “I could only think that I wanted tae see ye safe. Then, when I saw ye, I didnae think.”

“But…” She wasn’t sure why she kept repeating herself on the matter.

“Dae I truly have tae tell ye?” Ewan’s eyes were clear, bright, not with fever but with something deeper. “After a fortnight o’ kennin’ ye, I came tae care fer ye.”

“But, if this was just to maintain the ruse that I am… that we are…”Grace inched closer to him, her fingers twining with his.

“When I kiss a woman, ‘tis nae tae maintain any sort o’ story, nae even one o’ betrothal.” Ewan’s voice turned rough. “I kissed ye fer the same reason I searched fer ye after the battle.” He paused. “An’ I’m thinkin’ ‘twas the same reason I woke with ye at me bedside.”

Her cheeks felt hot. Grace swallowed. “Well, of course I was concerned for you…”

“Just concerned?” One dark eyebrow rose, and Grace swallowed again.

“I suppose I have become quite… fond… of you.”

“An’ I ye.” Ewan’s thumb stroked over her hand.

His hands were so gentle, far gentler than she could recall having ever felt before from anyone. Ewan was incredibly kind, underneath the taciturn exterior. Grace couldn’t deny that she was drawn to the gruff Scotsman. But what she might feel beyond that…

“What are we supposed to do now?”

“I dinnae ken more than ye. But….” Ewan tugged her closer, ran a hand through her hair. “I ken what I want tae dae.”

“What is that?”

Ewan smiled, then sat up, leaned forward, and kissed her again. His lips were dry, a little cracked, his mouth firm against hers. He tasted of medicine and mead, and Grace found herself relaxing into the kiss as his lips claimed hers. His tongue teased her lips, and she hesitantly opened her mouth to let the kiss deepen. The feel of his tongue caressing hers made her stomach feel as if she’d swallowed butterflies.

Ewan’s hand on her chin held her steady, his other hand caressing hers, and Grace leaned closer, wanting more of his tenderness.

Ewan MacDuff. Gruff and stern, kind and gentle. She longed to know more of him.

Kissing Grace was like drinking water from the fountains of paradise. She tasted of tea and fresh-baked bread, the scent of heather and herbal soap clinging to her. Her hair was soft, her lips even softer, and she welcomed the touch of his mouth with an eagerness that he would never have expected.

He caressed her hand, ran a thumb across her chin. Grace shivered, but didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned closer, her breath going shallow and fast. “Ewan…”

He could feel the heat rushing to his groin, the blood stiffening his manhood, and the urgency of desire filling his veins. However, he knew as well that Grace was not as experienced as he, and furthermore, the importance of a young noble woman’s reputation. English laws were rumored to be far more strict than Highland customs on the matter. He didn’t dare risk endangering her position with more than a caress or a kiss.

He started to pull away, started to let go, but Grace leaned into him, her hand clutching his as she breathed his name. “Ewan…”

“Lass… we’ve got tae stop…” He pulled back a little, taking in the flush on her cheeks and the way the fabric clearly showed her breasts, the nipples hard against the bodice. “Grace…”

“Please… kiss me again?”

That, he thought he could do. Ewan bent his head to kiss her again, and this time she opened her mouth to him easily, her desire evident and growing with every touch. Her hand rose to tangle in the collar of his shirt, tugging on the laces. “Ewan… please…”

He forced himself to pull back, despite the tightness of his groin, the aching erection of his shaft. “Lass… Grace… this isnae… if we go further, I cannae…”

“I never said I wished you to stop.” Her eyes were wide, her cheeks flushed a becoming rose. “Ewan, I have spent the past fortnight and more coming to know you for the amazing man you are. And I have never desired anyone the way I desire you. Never before. Whatever my fate is to be beyond this… I wish my first time to be with a man I respect. Besides, we are betrothed. Why should we not also be together like this?”

Ewan swallowed, startled by the forthrightness he would never have expected from a young woman of Grace’s heritage. “Ye never said…”

“I never knew, until you kissed me.” There was only truth in her words, in her voice, and only certainty in her touch as she tugged his shirt free of the loose belt of his kilt and toward his shoulders. Then she stopped, her hands stilling as uncertainty washed across her face. “Unless you do not feel that way…”

She began to pull away. “Oh God, I suppose I am being forward. And you are a gentleman…”

He caught her gently before she could begin to slide away from him. “Ye’re nae forward. An’ I may be a gentleman, but that includes answerin’ what a woman asks o’ me, if I can. I just want ye tae ken… if ye truly want this, if we go further, then…”

“I know what the consequences may be. It does not change my wish.” The flush to her cheeks spoke of desire and a hint of uncertainty, but her eyes were clear and determined. “Please… Ewan…”

She leaned closer, and kissed him again, gentle and tentative, then with more assurance. Her hands slid slowly, uncertainly, over his chest, further loosening the laces of his shirt. Ewan grunted as her hand drifted lower, closer to his belt and his stiffened shaft.

Ewan caught her hand. “Nae so fast, lass.”

He’d never last if she began to touch him, and he wanted to take his time with her. Grace Lancaster was far too beautiful and too unique to treat with anything other than the utmost gentleness and respect.

He kissed her again, long and slow and sweet, then took Grace’s shoulders and turned so that she was resting against his pillows. “If this is truly what ye want, then I’m honored tae be the man ye chose. But I’ll nae rush this.”

He brushed her hair back, then lowered his hand to tease loose the laces on the bodice of her dress as he kissed her forehead, then her temple, then the point of her jaw, before pressing a stronger kiss to her pulse point. Grace gasped, shivering in his hands.

Ewan undid the laces of the bodice, loosened the top of the dress so he could kiss her collarbone, then slid the dress lower, so he could cup her breast in one hand. His thumb and forefinger gently pinched the nipple, rolling it in his fingers, and Grace shivered again, her back arching slightly at the touch. “Oh…”

Ewan teased her breast, then switched his attention to the other breast, making Grace shift restlessly on the bed. “Ewan…”

He slid his hand across her belly, to touch her softly at the juncture of her legs, through the cloth of her dress. Grace squirmed, and the pressure of her body against his hand made him ache, his blood heating at her responsiveness.

He caressed her lightly, then slid his hand down her legs to the hem of her skirt. “Last chance tae change yer mind.”

Grace shook her head. “Please.”

Ewan bent his head and kissed her again.