Page 19 of The Highlander’s Dangerous Desire (Kilted Kisses #2)

CHAPTER NINETEEN

E wan woke warm, a little sore and more relaxed than he’d been for some time. He also woke with Grace Lancaster at his side, curled up against him and breathing softly. Ewan smiled, and shifted his head to look at her.

Their lovemaking the night before had been amazing. Grace had hidden depths of passion that he’d never expected for in a new lover, one so inexperienced as her. Being with Grace had been one of the best experiences he could recall.

She stirred in his arms, then blinked. Her eyes met his, sleepy for a moment, then widening as the memory of their night’s activities returned to her as well. Ewan chuckled as her cheeks flushed a brilliant crimson. “Good morn.”

“Good morn.” Grace sat up, shyly tucking the sheet around herself. She blinked, frowning slightly.

“’Tis normal tae feel sore, but it will pass.”

Grace nodded and wrapped the blankets around her shoulders. “That was…” She trailed off, her blush deepening

“Aye.” Ewan sat up, then stood and stretched. Grace made an undignified sound, but slid into her underdress after he handed it to her. Ewan turned and wrapped his discarded kilt around his hips. He would happily have taken Grace to bed again, but he wasn’t sure she was ready for that, and did not want to hurt her.

Grace stood and tugged the ties on the bodice closed. Her gaze fell on a sheaf of paper on his bedroom desk, and a small smile tugged the corner of her mouth. Ewan blinked. “Somethin’ amuses ye?”

“I suppose it does. It is only that I saw the paper, and I was reminded of the game Niamh and I played before she journeyed here. Our ‘list of sins’.” She flashed him a warm, bright smile. “It occurred to me that, of all the events I have ever placed upon my list, loving you might well be the largest, most impressive moment I have ever given that distinction to.” She laughed, lightly. “My uncle would most certainly be furious.”

The words were teasing, good-humored, but Ewan felt them as if they’d been blows to the gut.

The list. Her tricks to escape unwanted marriage. Was he just another event, another item on the list to help her avoid being shackled to some undesired English laird? The thought stung like the lash of a whip. “I see.”

Grace heard the change of his voice. She turned to face him, her smile vanishing into a small frown of puzzlement. “Ewan, is something wrong?”

When he had kissed her, he had felt something for her, and he had continued to feel it when they had been together the previous night. It hurt him that she had just used him for her convenience, that she could not see him as a man to court.

But he couldn’t say that to her. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of knowing how her words had stung both his pride and his heart. Ewan forced himself to shake his head. “Nay. ‘Tis just… I’m a little sore, more than I expected tae be this morn.”

“Oh. I can look at your wounds, make sure we caused no further…”

“Nay.” He heard the snap in his voice, saw the startled confusion and the beginning of hurt in her eyes, and shook his head. “I’ll have Megan look at it. Later.” He bent to get his discarded shirt, heedless of how the motion pulled at his healing injuries, and tugged it on. “Ye should go tae yer rooms and freshen up afore ye go down tae break yer fast.”

Grace blinked, clearly unnerved by his sudden coldness. Ewan felt a tingle of satisfaction, knowing that she might feel some of the same ache that seemed to have hollowed out his chest and replaced his heart with a frozen rock. “Ewan… is something…”

“Ye need tae go freshen up. An’ likely as nae, ye’ll want tae pack whatever ye wish tae tak’ tae MacDuff Castle. We’ll be goin’ taemorrow, if the healer allows.” He gestured. “We wouldnae wish tae keep yer friend waiting any longer than we must.”

“Ewan…”

“Go on. Otherwise someone is likely tae find ye in me rooms. An’ supposed betrothed or nae, we wouldnae wish fer anyone tae start any rumors, that I was improper with ye.” With a grunt, Ewan bent to prod the hearth fire from the night before back to life. It was as good an excuse as any not to look at Grace, and he was afraid that if he looked at her, all his emotions might come tumbling out of him as rage.

He could see her from the corner of his eye, trying to find something to say, her eyes filled with uncertainty and confusion at his change in demeanor. Eventually, however, she gave up and turned away. Ewan kept his gaze on the fire, listening as she collected her clothing, then finally left and shut the door behind her with a soft, yet decisive ‘snick’ of the lock. Only then did he rise and move to slump into the nearby chair.

How could he have fooled himself? Grace was a well-bred English lass. Why would she ever have considered being with a Highlander as more than a diversion, a momentary fling that would have the added bonus of infuriating the uncle whose control she sought to escape?

He had been out of his head, after the battle, his blood still running hot with combat-lust and the fog induced by fear at seeing the keep on fire. He’d been worried, and it had mingled with his concern in his fever-addled brain and become something more.

Grace had most likely been frightened, and reached for him as something to cling to, in the aftermath of the fighting. What had come after had been a natural response, and nothing more - unless one counted it as the two of them relieving their shared tension.

He’d given little thought to it, but Grace had likely decided that he was a ‘safe’ lover. Unlike any English man she might have taken, he would not speak to her uncle. When she returned home, she could tell whatever tale she liked, and preserve both her freedom and her honor.

Ewan hoped she’d at least enjoyed their night together. He’d no intention of giving her a second night in his bed - not if he was merely to be another mark on her ‘list of sins’. He might be nothing more to her than a ‘Highlander’, but he had his pride.

He only wished that was enough to ease the hurt he felt at the knowledge that he was, once again, nothing more than a shadow and a tool for someone else.

Grace hurried back to her rooms, her head and her heart both aching in time to the slight but present throbbing in her core. She felt confused, and more than a little hurt, all the more so because she wasn’t sure what had happened.

The night before had been wonderful, amazing beyond anything she could have ever dreamed. She’d fallen asleep in Ewan’s arms, dazed by the afterglow of their lovemaking and certain that nothing in her life would ever match what she felt now. And that no man would ever make her as happy as Ewan had.

Ewan . She’d joked about him being her ‘biggest sin’, but being with him felt like no sin at all. Ewan - and being with him - made her feel as if she was coming home. Being with Ewan made her happier than she’d ever believed possible.

And yet - Grace swallowed hard, tears pricking her eyes as she made it to her rooms and slipped inside - it was evident that Ewan didn’t feel the same way. Oh, he’d been happy enough when they woke, but she’d scarcely spoken a few words to him before he’d turned distant, cold, and withdrawn. The worst of it was, she didn’t know why.

Yes, she had joked about her list of sins, and about how her uncle would react, but surely he understood that she had been teasing. And even if she had not been, it was hardly an insult. Ewan should know that. She’d told him about her ‘list of sins’, what it meant to her, and how strained her relationship was with her uncle. Surely he could understand that, teasing or not, such words were compliments.

Unless… unless he felt differently.

He was willing to declare the pretense that she was his betrothed, but it was a pretense only, no matter how much his demeanor might have thawed toward her since their first meeting. He’d given no indication that he actually considered her worth pursuing.

Yes, he’d kissed her after the attack, but what of it? He’d been half out of his mind with fever, sickness, and battle-madness. For all the words he’d spoken the night before… perhaps she had allowed herself to attach too much importance to the whole matter. After all, when all was said and done, who was she to Ewan MacDuff?

An Englishwoman. A responsibility he’d taken on only because her best friend and his brother’s wife had asked him to. He might not feel the resentment and disdain that he’d felt before, but that didn’t mean that he actually cared for her. Not as anything more than an idle amusement.

An Englishwoman far from home, dependent on him for her safety and her shelter. Why should he care for her? And as for the night before… well, men had their needs, and she had been all too willing to offer herself to him. There was no reason for him not to accept what she offered. She’d been told often enough that she was, at least, gifted with a modicum of beauty.

For all she knew, he had simply been indulging himself. And now, he was making it clear that it was nothing more than a momentary surrender to passion - a brief and idle amusement with a woman who meant little to him.

The thought hurt. She didn’t want to believe it. Yet, what else was she to make of his coldness, and his distance? His abrupt dismissal of her?

A soft knock and the click of the door handle made Grace look up, hoping against hope that it was Ewan, come to apologize, or to explain. Her heart fell as the door opened to reveal Anne, balancing a breakfast tray carefully in her hands. “Fair morn, m’lady.”

Fair morn. She’d wished Ewan that, only a few minutes before. When she’d felt the morning could not possibly be any better. The words felt like a mockery now.

Grace swallowed back tears. It hurt to think that what she’d hoped was a genuine connection might only have been a passing fancy on Ewan’s side, but she couldn’t let her feelings show. It would only cause whispers among the servants. Besides, she still had a part to play, as his ‘betrothed’. “Fair morn.”

Anne set the tray down, then turned to look at her. Too late, Grace realized that something of her mood must have showed in her face, because the maid’s expression creased in concern. “Are ye well, m’lady? Ye look distressed. If there’s aught ye need…”

“Oh, I did not sleep as well as I might have wished.” A thought came to her, and she set her hand lightly on her abdomen. “I woke this morning to such an ache…”

Anne’s expression cleared. “Och, is it near yer moon time, then?”

Grace frowned. She wasn’t due for her cycle for some time yet, but it was as good a fiction to suggest as any other. And by the time her cycle did come, she would likely be with Niamh, so Anne would never know the truth. “I… I am not certain… I thought perhaps all the worry about Lord Overseer MacDuff… I have sometimes experienced a nervous stomach in times of distress… but it may be either one.”

The maid stepped forward and patted her hand gently. “Och, either one can be a trouble tae a lass. An’ nae shame tae ye if yer feelin’ unwell after all that’s happened, fer spirits alone ken we’ve all had our spells o’ nerves.” The maid ushered her toward the bed. “Here, m’lady, ye just lie down, an’ I’ll bring ye the tray, then go an’ fetch ye a remedy from the healer, an’ some tea tae soothe ye. Ye rest a while.”

Grace let the made guide her back to bed. She felt tired, drained, and heartsick, and suddenly the idea of hiding amid the cushions and blankets seemed like the best idea she’d ever heard. And if Anne went to get some the remedy for her ‘monthly pains’, then she would not need to do so later. Nor would she risk running into Ewan, since he’d said he would be going to have his bandages changed.

She couldn’t spend the entire day in bed, of course. She had to pack for the journey to MacDuff Castle, to see Niamh, after all. And if she was honest with herself, she didn’t truly want to spend the entire day abed. She hadn’t explored the garden yet, and there were many flowers there she’d never heard of, nor seen before.

But the garden and packing could wait. For now, it was a comfort to settle back into the thick, goose-feather pillows and have Anne wrap the soft blankets about her. The maid’s gentleness was soothing, and it eased some of the ache in her heart as well as her body.

In time, she would rise and take care of other things. For the moment, however, she was happy enough to let Anne fuss over her, to sip tea and eat porridge as she tried to patch the pieces of her battered heart, and her dignity back together.

I’ll not regret the time I spent with Ewan, or the night I shared with him, even if he doesn't see me as anything more than an idle amusement. But neither shall I give him the satisfaction of knowing that I felt anything more, or that his actions have wounded me. English and far from home I may be, but I am still a lady. I have my pride, such as it is, and I shall not suffer myself to be considered a toy - or a lovestruck child - by any man. Not even Ewan MacDuff.