Page 20 of The Highlander’s Dangerous Desire (Kilted Kisses #2)

CHAPTER TWENTY

E wan stared at the familiar walls of MacDuff Castle with a barely suppressed sigh of relief. The ride had made his healing wounds ache, and the silence of his traveling companion was discomforting in an entirely different way.

Ewan looked sideways, to where Grace sat on her horse. She’d been quiet for the past day, ever since leaving his room after their night together. Every attempt he made to speak to her only caused her to retreat into silence. She answered him only in brief statements, and when they’d shared a supper table, she’d made her excuses and left before he could even attempt conversation.

She acted as if she was ashamed. Ashamed of being with a Highlander. The idea made his chest ache, enough that he’d drunk himself almost into a stupor the night before. But if Grace was unwilling to discuss the matter with him, then he wasn’t going to surrender his pride to try and pursue the matter.

“Come. They’ll have seen us from the wall.” He spoke the words softly and nudged his horse into a walk once more. Grace nodded and nudged her horse to keep pace beside him. She still rode astride, as he’d taught her, and the sight made him want to smile and curse, all at the same time.

The gates of MacDuff Castle were open by the time they rode up to them, and two very familiar figures waited in the courtyard - one taller and broader in the shoulder than Ewan himself, dressed in the colors of MacDuff Clan over a casual kilt and loosely knotted shirt. The other was a smaller woman, with pale skin, hair the color of autumn leaves, and the prominent belly of a woman who was seven months with child.

Grace was out of the saddle as soon as the horses came to a stop. “Niamh!”

Niamh MacDuff nee Cameron stepped forward and embraced Grace with all the warmth and familiarity of a sister, both of them all but glowing with happiness. “Grace! ‘Tis so good tae see ye! When I heard ye’d been delayed… och, but I have missed ye!”

“And I, you. It is not at all the same, spending the seasons without our festivals to look forward to.” Grace embraced Alistair’s wife gently, mindful of her belly. “I was surprised, when I heard from Ewan - that is, Overseer MacDuff-MacTavish - that you had married and were carrying a babe.”

“Aye. Ye’re nae the only one tae be surprised by the way o’ things. I was fair startled meself, the way it all came about. But ‘tis a long story, an afore we go an’ get ye settled, me husband wants tae speak tae ye.”

Grace stiffened visibly, and Ewan moved closer, standing watchful as Alistair approached the women. He wasn’t certain what he wanted to do, or even if he wanted to do anything, but he was determined to be close if things went wrong.

Alistair studied Grace a moment, then offered her a crooked smile and a chagrined expression that he never would have worn before he fell in love with Niamh. “Welcome tae MacDuff Castle, Miss Lancaster. Afore aught else - I’m sorry fer how our first meetin’ went. I was a proper bastard, an’ I treated ye poorly. I ken we cannae meet a second time, but I hope we can start again from here.”

Grace nodded, her expression still and closed off. “I do understand you have no reason to love English folk, such as myself, and no reason to trust me.”

“But I didnae have any reason tae act as I did, let alone threaten ye. As me wife is fair fond o’ tellin’ me…” He gave Niamh a loving look that made Ewan’s stomach clench, for reasons he refused to think about. “I should have been more polite with me words, and gentler with me actions. An’ I shouldnae have judged ye afore I kent ye properly.”

Alistair offered Grace his hand. After a long moment, Grace took it, and Alistair pulled her into a brief but friendly embrace. “Thank you. It is comforting to know that I shall not face your hostility while I am your guest.”

“Ye’ll face nae hostility. Me wife’s friend is a welcome an’ protected guest o’ me clan, fer as long as ye wish tae be.”

Grace appeared to be considering his words, but Niamh smiled and wrapped her arms around her best friend. “Och, there, ye see? Alistair’s given ye welcome.”

She stretched awkwardly up to kiss her husband, then wrapped an arm through Grace’s. “Now come. There’s so much tae talk about.”

The two women wandered into the castle, while behind them servants carried Grace’s things into the castle.

Alistair watched until the two women vanished inside, then turned and wrapped Ewan in a hug that made his ribs creak. “Och, Ewan, ‘tis fair good tae see ye! If ye kent how much I wanted tae ride tae MacTavish when I received yer letter a few days ago…”

Ewan snorted. “I ken, fer I’ve felt the same way. But just as well ye didnae. ‘Twould only have undermined me standin’. And we managed well enough, though ‘twas a rough few days.”

“Aye. I can imagine. How are yer wounds?”

“Mending.” Ewan gave his brother a fond look. “Unlike ye, I ken how tae obey a healer.”

Alistair chuckled. “I ken. I just dinnae care tae dae so. Besides, yer healer’s nae the cousin ye remember chasin’ about the castle an’ callin’ ‘Meadowcat’.”

“Nae. That she’s nae.” Ewan relaxed as his brother slung an arm over his shoulder, more at ease than he’d been in well over a season.

Marriage, and his coming fatherhood, had done Alistair a world of good. He was more open and easier to speak to. He was by no means soft, but the jagged edges of anger and grief that had coated his words and actions after the death of their father and his first fiancee had smoothed over, worn away by Niamh’s gentle warmth and strength.

He had always been a good laird, if a stern and harsh one at times. But he’d become both a better laird and a better man since he’d found love, and a family, in Niamh’s arms.

I wish I had the same good fortune.

Ewan shoved the thought away before it could turn bitter instead of wistful. He refused to envy his brother. Alistair deserved his happiness, and deserved to savor it unmarred by Ewan’s futile feelings about Grace.

“Ye look troubled.” Alistair’s soft observation made Ewan blink. There was a time when his brother wouldn’t have been so aware of him either.

“Aye. Ye’ve heard about the matter o’ Gael MacTavish?” It was better to seek his brother’s advice on the dangers represented by the would-be MacTavish laird, than to try and discuss what truly troubled him the most. At least, in the matter of Gael, his brother might be able to offer some advice to help him defend the lands and people he’d claimed as his own.

“Aye. Just what ye’ve sent in yer letters, and a few whispers an’ rumors, but I’ve heard o’ him, and the claim against yer holding the clan. Though why he didnae come forward in the harvest and winter…”

“’Tis one o’ many questions I have about the man.” Ewan agreed.

“Aye. An’ as the current overlaird, o’ course I ken a bit about the man’s claim.” Alistair clapped him carefully on his uninjured shoulder. “Come inside an’ up tae the study, an’ we’ll discuss what we both ken, an’ how tae best handle the matter.”

Ewan smiled, relieved at his brother’s offer of assistance - assistance they both knew he was too proud to have asked for, but could greatly use - and followed Alistair inside.

If Grace had harbored any doubts about Niamh’s happiness after seeing the way her friend glowed with warmth and joy, they would have been laid to rest at the first sight of Niamh’s rooms. They were elegantly appointed, warm and comfortable and furnished with anything and everything that a woman might need. There were even an abundance of footstools, for her to prop her swollen ankles on, and a tray of sweet biscuits close at hand.

Niamh motioned for her to sit, and took a seat by the fire for herself. “How are ye faring? How was the journey north?”

“’Twas well enough.” A maid poured tea for both, and Grace sipped it gratefully.

“And yer uncle? What did ye tell him?”

Grace blushed. “I didn’t tell him much of anything, I am afraid. I left him a letter, telling him I was leaving to visit a friend.” Her cheeks grew hotter at Niamh’s enquiring glance. “And then I snuck out the back door with Ewan MacDuff.”

“Ye snuck out!” Niamh laughed, a bright, clear sound of delight. “With Ewan? He must have made quite an impression on ye.”

“Oh, he did.” Grace joined her friend in laughter. “Though in truth, ‘twas not the most favorable impression. I’d not have come with him save for your letter.”

Niamh considered his words. “I had hoped, but what dae ye mean, Ewan… what happened? He didnae manhandle ye like Alistair did?”

“Not precisely. I ran into him - quite literally - the day before he turned up at our estate. I had no idea who he was at the time. It was during another one of my uncle’s awful introductions.”

Niamh groaned. “Och, nae another one.”

“Indeed. He was quite awful.” Grace shuddered.

“Worse than William the Overweight?” Niamh suggested, naming one of the more memorable suitors that Grace’s uncle had tried to force upon her. Grace grimaced in sympathy with her friend. She remembered William - a man so terribly oversized that he needed a cart to travel even the length of a hall, and four men to haul in and out of his seat. It was one of the few suitors that even Uncle William had been happy to see leaving.

“Lord Ambrose was… not physically worse. But…” Grace scowled. “It was a poor meeting from the start - Uncle William did not tell me we were meeting the man in a tavern. And the first thing he did was gift me with this truly awful hat - it had long painted feathers!”

Niamh snickered. “It sounds hideous.”

“It was. And the man was an absolute bore - he could not talk of anything save hunting. Every single thing I could think of to say, it reminded him of a hunt. It was entirely tedious.” Grace sighed. “I was ready to run away or toss the hat in the midden. Then I bumped into Ewan and accidentally had his beer dumped all over me.” She smiled. “At least it ruined the hat.”

“A small mercy, it sounds like.” Niamh nodded.

“It was. I confess I did not leave with the best impression of Ewan, but the accident convinced Lord Ambrose that I was not the wife he desired. I received your letter and made my escape the next night.”

“Och, it sounds like ye had a fair adventurous time o’ it afore ye even left Lancastershire. I hope the rest o’ yer journey was less eventful.”

“It had its moments…” Grace smiled, and settled in to tell the tale of how she and Ewan had fared in traveling across the Highlands.

Niamh listened attentively as Grace spun her tale, smiling, nodding, exclaiming and laughing at each turn of the story. By the time Grace brought the story to a close, they’d drunk two pots of tea, and Grace was more relaxed than she’d been since the last festival they’d both attended.

“Och, it sounds like ye’ve had a fair wild time o’ it - an’ ye tell a tale as well as any bard.” Niamh shook her head. “But it sounds like ye and Ewan have grown close.”

Grace swallowed. Thinking of Ewan still stung. She’d hardly been able to look at him since the night they’d spent together - not that she’d told Niamh that part of the tale. “We… I…”

“Ye have some feeling fer him?”

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.