Page 24 of The Highlander’s Dangerous Desire (Kilted Kisses #2)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

G race woke warm, cradled in familiar arms and wrapped in a scent she’d become well acquainted with over the past moon. Woodsmoke and leather, with a hint of steel and spice and mead. Ewan. Her face went hot as she remembered what had passed between them the night before.

It was tempting to say that she’d no idea what had possessed her to act so temperamental, but in truth, she knew all too well what had upset her. She’d been considering Sorcha’s words, and their meaning. Then, to hear Ewan talking of courting another woman…

It was folly. She knew that. She would have to return to England eventually. And Ewan… his people would want him to marry a proper Scottish lass. Marrying an English girl would bring him nothing but trouble, and they both knew it well.

Even so, even knowing the truth, she could not regret what they’d shared. And she had no desire to change anything, save perhaps the days she and Ewan had spent in anger and misunderstanding.

Behind her, Ewan stirred. Then he made a sound, like a grunt or a groan, and leaned up to kiss her cheek. “A man could get used tae wakin’ up like this.”

“I wish it were possible.” She did regret the truth. “I shall eventually have to return to my uncle. But until then…” She smiled. “I suppose I would enjoy waking up this way as well. Unless…” She turned over to face him. “If your brother is to be seeking a betrothed for you, will you be setting aside the ruse of courting me?”

Ewan stilled, and his voice was quiet when he answered. “Dae ye wish me tae set it aside?”

Grace considered the matter. “I am not certain. I do not feel that I am adequately informed on the matter in any respect, save how it grants me a measure of safety. Perhaps you might explain to me why it is important to you, that you maintain the appearance of having a betrothed, when it is clear you are in no hurry to marry of your own accord.”

Ewan shifted, then sat up with a grunt. “If we’re tae be havin’ a serious discussion o’ clan matters, ‘tis best nae tae be doin’ so in bed. Otherwise, I’ll be fair distracted.”

Grace laughed, but joined him as he dressed, sliding into her under-dress and a robe while Ewan pulled on his kilt and shirt. Once they were both appropriately attired, Grace joined Ewan in the front room. He poked the embers into a fire once again, and the two of them settled into the chairs close to the blaze. Ewan spoke first. “We’ve talked afore about Gael MacTavish.”

“Yes.” Grace nodded. “You told me that he is a rival for the lordship which you currently hold as overseer for your brother. And…” She paused, making sure she recalled the information properly. “... he has less experience, and was not present for two seasons after the previous lord died. But he is being considered an acceptable candidate because he has a wife and child.”

“Aye. That’s about the size o’ it. The previous laird died without issue nor heir, which is why the Council is considerin’ him fer the lairdship.” Ewan sighed. “Gael MacTavish has the blood, an’ already has someone tae continue the line if he falls.”

“Surely there are other concerns.”

“Aye. Honor, and ability tae maintain peace with neighborin’ clans. Too much feudin’ causes trouble that the Highlands cannae afford. But there’s nay sign that he’s likely tae stir up trouble. Especially since he’s going through the Council tae claim the lairdship, rather than tryin’ tae tak’ it by force.” Ewan grimaced.

“Surely he knows he would not win such an encounter.”

“There’s some that would try it. But there’s nay sign that he intends tae dae so, or that he might resort tae underhanded means. As far as Alistair or I can hear, he’s nae such a poor candidate.”

Grace nodded, considering the words in her mind. Considering Ewan’s position and her own, and even Gael’s - at least so far as she knew.

“You will forgive me if I ask a question that seems impertinent?”

Ewan cracked a grim smile. “I dinnae mind.”

“You… you are the younger brother of the Lord - Laird - MacDuff. Until recently, from what you have told me, the MacTavish Clan was an enemy of yours. I suppose I do not understand why you seem determined to hold on to leadership. From what I understand of Scottish families and clans… why would you not wish to return to your own clan?”

Ewan’s expression darkened, his jaw clenching slightly. For a moment, Grace thought he might leave, or snarl at her. Then he took a deep breath. “Tis a fair question, I suppose. An’ the short answer o’ it is… because I dinnae wish tae be me braither’s shadow forever.”

Grace frowned, not understanding his words. “I…”

“Ye’re an only child, an’ a daughter besides, aye?” Ewan gave her another smile that held no real humor in it. “Ye grew up in a laird’s household, but nae as a second son, or with siblings.”

“Yes. That is true.”

“Bein’ a second son is…” Ewan shook his head. “Ye’re expected tae be everything a laird’s son is meant tae be, but with nay expectation o’ leading, unless yer braither dies early. Otherwise, ye serve as yer braither’s right hand, his shadow.” Ewan grimaced. “I love Alistair, but servin’ as his shadow… I didnae like bein’ there.”

“You wish to lead?”

“I wish nae tae feel like I was always bein’ judged as lesser. Alistair is a good man, an’ I respect him, but I always feel as if I’m bein’ judged by the man me braither is, nae meself.”

“That must be difficult.”

“Aye.” Ewan nodded. “I try nae tae think on it, but… it has always bothered me. And Alistair kent it, as well as any other. When we claimed oversight o’ the MacTavish clan, he offered me the position, and the chance tae see if I could be a laird in me own right. Tae prove meself.”

Grace thought she understood. “And you wanted to take the position.”

“I did. I wanted tae prove I was - am - Alistair’s equal.” Ewan pushed himself to his feet. Grace could tell he was uncomfortable with admitting so much. “And the longer I worked with the clan-folk there, with Devlin, Malcolm, Megan an’ the others, the more I came tae relate tae them. Tae feel as if I was part o’ them. MacDuff may be me blood, but MacTavish has become me clan as well, fer all the past enmity between us.”

It made perfect sense. Ewan was a strong man, a gifted warrior and, from what she had seen, a talented leader, who inspired loyalty in the people who served as his advisors and servants, even among the clan that had once been his enemies.

She was drawn from her thoughts by a soft huff of sardonic laughter. “Perhaps I’m nae me braither’s equal after all. Alistair wasnae challenged fer the lairdship - save fer bein’ encouraged tae tak’ a wife. And I cannae seem tae manage this without consultin’ with me braither, nor tae convince the clan tae hold me as their laird on me own merits.”

He looked so despondent that Grace felt compelled to say something. She stood and joined him by the fire. “You are not lesser, merely inexperienced. No lord knows everything when they first take the position. And your brother did not hold his position alone either. Is that not why he claimed Niamh as his bride?”

Ewan blinked, and she could tell from his expression that he hadn’t considered that facet of the situation before. She smiled and laid a hand on his shoulder. “I am certain you are every bit as gifted as your brother - you merely need the time to learn all those things a lord learns with time.”

Ewan smiled wryly, but with less bitterness than before. “I feel as though, if I fail tae hold the lairdship, or cannae find me own choice o’ betrothed, it will only serve tae make people believe I cannae be as good a man as Alistair.”

“You are every bit as good a man as your brother.” Grace smirked at him playfully, wanting to lighten the somber mood that had fallen over them after her question. “You, at least, did not threaten me at our first meeting, even if you did soak me with ale. And you have succeeded in winning over many of the MacTavish clan, even if you do not realize how loyal they are to you.”

“I ken Devlin and Malcolm…”

“Devlin and Malcolm are open in their support of you, as good advisors and friends should be. But I have spoken with others - servants who would not speak their minds before their lords, and they find you far better than the man they served afore.”

Ewan grunted. “Small praise.”

“But still, you are valued. Respected. And if I understand the loyalty that exists between clansmen of the same clan, then does it not say something positive about your leadership? That you have not been ousted simply because the man who opposes you shares the name MacTavish, where your name is still MacDuff?”

Ewan blinked, and Grace could see that her words were, at last, beginning to reach him. She smiled and stretched up to kiss his chin softly. “You are a good man, Ewan MacDuff. And a good lord, as I well know. Until you find a bride you wish to pursue, or until I must return to my uncle in Lancaster, I am well content to stand as a woman you might court, to aid you in your quest to claim the title you deserve to hold.”

She wished that she could be Ewan’s bride in truth, but she understood how alliance marriages worked. And Ewan, a new laird of a clan that was not originally his own, would very likely need an alliance marriage, if he was to hold the lairdship for any great length of time. His kin and his new clan would want him to marry a Highland lass who could bring him support and resources that he could never gain by marrying an English lady of a cadet branch of the Lancaster family.

At least now she knew that Ewan had not turned aside because he had no desire for her, or because he was ashamed to be in bed with an English woman. It had been a simple misunderstanding, and now that it was ended, they might be free to explore what relationship they wished, until it was time to part.

And if her heart were to break with the parting? Ewan need never know. No one save Niamh - and perhaps not even Niamh - need ever understand what she left behind.

‘If ye leave behind the destiny yer heart has led ye tae, there’s naught but misery and grief in yer future.’ Sorcha’s words echoed in her thoughts, and Grace set them aside. She might wish things were different, but she could not act solely for her own happiness. She must consider Ewan’s happiness, and his status, as well. And if the best thing to do was give him up, then that is what she would do. It was all she could do.

Ewan kissed her, bringing her back to the present. “Ye look melancholy, all o’ a sudden. What troubles ye?”

“Only thoughts of the future. Nothing of great importance.” Her stomach chose that moment to growl, and Grace blushed. “And thoughts of the morning meal, which we must hurry to prepare for, if we do not wish to be late.”

She pulled free of Ewan and nudged him toward his boots and belt. “You must go and dress in your chambers, and I must find proper clothing. Otherwise, folk will surely talk.”

Ewan smirked roguishly. “An’ what if they dae? We’re meant tae be betrothed…”

“That does not mean I wish word of our activities to fill the whole castle!” Grace smiled to show she spoke in jest again, and was pleased when he only laughed. She waved him toward the door. “Go! Dress. I shall meet you at the table as soon as I am properly attired.”

Ewan chuckled, brushed one last kiss across her forehead, then slipped out the door. Grace watched the heavy oak panel shut behind him, then went to find a dress for the day.

She emerged into the Great Hall little more than a candle-mark later, to find Ewan speaking with a figure she recognized. Devlin. The MacTavish second-in-command looked as if he’d been traveling hard, perhaps through the night, and both men’s expressions were grim. Grace’s contentment melted away like the last snow of winter. “What is going on?”

“Gael MacTavish has come tae MacTavish Keep with his wife and son. He’s asked tae convene the Council o’ Elders, tae request that the overseer’s position be granted tae him, until such time as he can be confirmed as Laird MacTavish by right o’ blood.”

Grace saw the pale cast to Ewan’s face, the grim uncertainty there as he spoke. Then he turned to Devlin. “But… he did not claim the title before. Surely…”

“Daesnae matter. He’s made the formal request. And the Council o’ Elders has agreed tae convene tae judge his merits against those o’ the current overseer. M’laird, yer presence is demanded as soon as ye may, in the Council chamber, yer betrothed beside ye.”

Ewan’s jaw clenched, and his words came out as a growl. “Me betrothed is currently visiting with her friend, Lady Niamh MacDuff. I willnae ask her tae…”

“We will be there.” Grace interrupted him. She turned to face Ewan. “Niamh will understand, and if I recall correctly, the decision shall not take very long. A matter of some days, yes?”

“Aye.” Ewan and Devlin both nodded. “Nae more than a seven-day, and nae likely tae tak’ that long.”

“Then there will be plenty of time for me to resume my visit with Niamh after the issue is dealt with.” It made her heart ache to be parted from her best friend after they’d so recently reunited, but they would have more time to spend together. Besides, she knew she would only spend all her time fretting if she sent Ewan back to face the Council without her.

Ewan needed her more than Niamh did, and she knew Niamh would accept that if she explained her reasons. Grace had come to enjoy the feeling of being needed and wanted at the side of a man like Ewan MacDuff, and she wasn’t willing to turn her back on him now.

“If ye’re tha’ resolved, I’ll nae stop ye, but we need tae leave as soon as possible.”

Grace looked at Devlin. “Surely, we can pause long enough for Devlin to join us for breaking our fast. Afterward, I can have such things as I need packed to return, and I shall explain the matter to Niamh while the servants pack our things and saddle our horses. That should be soon enough.”

“It should.” Ewan nodded, and clapped Devlin on the back when it looked as if the MacTavish second-in-command would have protested. “We’ll all be better off if we start the journey with full packs and full bellies, and ye could use a bit o’ something hot tae tak’ the morning chill off yer bones.”

Devlin slumped, gratitude on his face. “Aye, m’laird. I didnae wish tae delay ye, but…”

“Ye’ll nae. I’m sure ye can finish in the time it tak’s us all tae be ready fer the journey.”

“Indeed.” Grace looped her arm through Ewan’s. “I assume your brother already knows of Devlin’s arrival?”

“Likely as nae.”

“Then he will likely be waiting for us at table. We should not keep the laird waiting any longer than necessary. Especially as we shall be departing so much sooner than originally expected.”

Ewan nodded, and together the three of them made their way toward the dining chamber.