Chapter 14

14

" I must say," Bridget said as Ewan pressed her body against his. "I was not expecting you to be so agile."

"Aye, well, ye make it easy, bein' as nimble as ye are. How is yer ankle, by the way? If ye'd like, we can stop," Ewan said.

He found himself holding his breath as he anxiously awaited Bridget's response.

"I was told that you don't come to these events," Bridget said.

Her attempt at making small talk was grating on Ewan's nerves. It was bad enough that he could feel the clansfolk's eyes boring into his skull, but to also have to concentrate on meaningless drivel would be a challenge.

"Are ye askin' about me?" Ewan asked, turning the conversation back to her.

He hadn't expected the third degree coming from her. But the fact that she had been waiting for him filled him with a measure of pride that he couldn't express.

"I'd be lying if I said no," Bridget answered, averting her eyes.

It bothered Ewan that she would look away from him. His need to see into her soul drove him mad. As much as he wanted to grab her chin and force her to look at him, he refrained and continued leading her carefully around the dance floor.

"That so?" Ewan's voice lilted as he teased her. "And what, pray tell, did ye want to ken about me? Whatever ye want to ask, now is yer chance."

"I didn't think you liked to dance," Bridget said as he felt her grip on his arm tighten.

He savored every second he had her to himself. It didn't matter to him what questions she asked, the fact that she was talking to him without fear astonished him.

"Did ye ken I can break a log wit' me bare hands?" Ewan said in a stoic tone, just to witness the flash of confusion on Bridget's face.

"I suppose you are strong enough to do such a thing," Bridget said, her voice became high-pitched with the bewilderment he had hoped to elicit from her.

"Aye, but it doesnae mean I like doin' it," he continued.

"So, you dance but you'd rather not," Bridget said as she slowly relaxed her hand. There was a subtle change about her; it was as if she was pulling away without having taken a single step back. "Why did you even bring me out to the dance floor if you don't like to do this?"

"I was raised to be respectful to our guests, and ye're a guest," Ewan answered, his voice a bit too clipped.

To his surprise, Bridget didn't flinch at his harshness, and instead gave a polite smile and allowed him to continue leading her around the dance floor.

Ewan couldn't believe how easy it was to dance with Bridget. She was lighter than air despite her sprained ankle. After a few rounds on the dance floor, he didn't even mind all the people watching him. It was as if they had slipped into their little world, where nothing mattered or bothered them.

Ewan drew in a long, deep breath. The acceptance and warmth radiating from Bridget made the stone wall around his heart crack.

"Well, at least I'm not your enemy," Bridget said with a light, awkward chuckle. "I certainly don't think I would want to be that."

"And why is that? Ye dinnae ken how I'd react seein' ye on the other end of the battlefield. I might even concede to yer will if the terms for surrender were met."

Bridget arched an eyebrow and stared at him. The scowl on her face made Ewan laugh. He hadn't expected to actually enjoy himself, yet being around Bridget was like a drug to him. She made him feel more at ease than if he was sulking alone in the library.

"And what terms, pray tell, would have to be met before you would surrender?" Bridget's question only made the smirk on his face widen.

"What makes ye think I'd be the one to surrender? I can be pretty convincin' when I have to be," he said as he released her hand to brush her hair from her shoulder. His gaze lingered on her elegant neck.

How he wanted to run his lips over her smooth skin. He wanted to feel her squirm beneath him as he tickled her intimate places with his tongue.

"I'm sure if you can't talk yourself out of a situation, then you can certainly plow through it," Bridget said as Ewan watched her eyes roam freely over his body.

He reveled in the fact that she was looking at him. Not just looking but seeing that he wasn't some monster to be feared and recoil from. Even her touch was as soft and tender as freshly cut rose petals.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Ewan asked as he arched an eyebrow. As much as he tried to sound playful, it only came out ragged and harsh.

"I was merely pointing out that you are no mere mortal," Bridget said, exalting him more highly than he had ever been before.

Sure, there were times when the people tried to get what they wanted and then make a hasty retreat. But not Bridget. The way she looked at him when she spoke was like looking into the face of an angel.

"If that is so, what am I then?" Ewan asked as he found himself pulling her even closer. The fact that he could feel her hardening nipples through her bodice and his shirt thrilled him. How he wished he could lure her upstairs to his room and ravage her. "A monster?"

"Not at all, more like Hercules," Bridget said with such conviction that Ewan found himself almost believing her.

"Ha, yer eyes are deceivin' ye. I'm nothin' more than a Scot who loves his clan and the land he grew up on. There's nay better feelin' in all the world than to ken just how deep yer roots go."

He studied her face. How he wished he could read her thoughts. Was she enjoying herself as much as he was, or was it just wishful thinking? He pulled in a long, deep breath, savoring the floral scent swirling around her. It was as if she had bathed in wildflowers and heather.

"Oof, I'm so sorry," Bridget said, tripping over her feet.

Ewan's arms barely flexed, but it was enough to keep her from falling. The panic and flush of embarrassment coloring her cheeks were intoxicating to him.

"Are ye all right?" Ewan asked, keeping her upright.

"I'm so sorry."

"Aye, ye said that, and there's nay reason for it. Is yer ankle well? Should we sit out the next song?" Ewan asked as he scanned Bridget for any signs of distress. He hoped she wanted to stay on the dance floor, since it was the only way he could keep her close.

"Maybe that would be best," she answered.

Without hesitating, Ewan took her by the arm and led her off the dance floor.

"Sit," he ordered as he pulled a chair from one of the tables without asking to whom it belonged.

Bridget flashed him a smile that was like a sledgehammer to the wall around his heart. He felt the cracks spreading across the wall, threatening to crumble down around him.

Clearing his throat, Ewan snapped his fingers. At a moment's notice, he had his goblet in his hand, filled to the brim with the sweetest mead his island produced.

"Here," he said, offering Bridget the glass. "This might help ease the pain a bit."

"Thank you," Bridget said, taking a sip from his goblet.

"Oh, that's just about all I can tolerate!" a voice boomed from behind him.

Ewan tensed up as he spun around, his muscles twitching and ready to spring into action.

"How dare ye choose a Sassenach over a Scot. I thought ye were a man of yer word, but all I see is a liar and a harlot."

"Best nae say such things if I were ye," Ewan growled as he glared daggers at Laird Alistair.

The Laird was no match for him, and they both knew it. Laird Alistair was at least a foot shorter, and the bulge in his belly wasn't from hard times.

"I'll give ye a chance to apologize to the lass."

"Ye must be out of yer mind," Laird Alistair answered with a sarcastic chuckle. "I'll nae say any such thin' to an Englishwoman. She needs to leave."

"She'll do nay such thin'. She is my guest, and she can stay for as long as she likes," Ewan snapped as he stepped between the Laird and Bridget.

Blood rushed to his face as he waited for the Laird to make a move. The tension in the courtyard was thicker than the fog rolling in off the inlet.

"Ye're nothin' but a traitor to yer people," Laird Alistair snapped as his fingers curled around the hilt of his sword. "Me sister is a better match, and ye ken it. Instead, ye take an English whore to flaunt before the clans?"

Ewan's rage boiled just under the surface. All he needed was an excuse to end Laird Alistair. Just a flick of his wrist and the tip of Ewan's dagger would hit its mark, ending the conversation and celebration.

"Will you two stop," Bridget snapped as she pulled Ewan back and slipped into the tight space between him and Laird Alistair. "This is silly. There is nothing going on here other than a Scot showing a guest a good time. Seeing that my father is the Earl of Abbey, it was a smart political move. But if you want scores of English invading your shores to hunt for me, then by all means, continue to live up to rumors and be the brute every proper Englishman thinks you to be."

"How dare ye speak to me in such a manner," Laird Alistair snapped.

The moment the Laird pulled his blade from its sheath, Ewan already had his pressed to the Laird's neck. The crowd let out a collective gasp. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Ewan could hear his aunt's voice pleading with him to take the higher ground. As much as Ewan wanted to end the threat right then, he refrained from following through.

"Tell me why I shouldnae end ye right here and now?" Ewan asked as his teeth grazed Laird Alistair's earlobe.

Ewan watched the man's Adam's apple bob in his throat.

"Laird MacCartney," Bridget said, her voice clipped yet firm. Ewan couldn't help but snap out of the blind rage threatening to consume him. "I believe the Laird has learned his lesson and won't be jumping to any conclusions again. Am I right, Sir?"

"Aye," Laird Alistair said.

Slowly, Ewan withdrew his blade and slipped the dirk back into its sheath. Laird Alistair glared at him, but with a trembling hand, he released his sword. Ewan waited before stepping back from the man.

"See that ye leave swiftly. I willnae tolerate yer presence any longer. Do I make meself clear?" Ewan said, rolling his shoulders back to demonstrate how superior he was to Alistair.

Laird Alistair straightened his shirt and vest and cleared his throat. The malice in his eyes only rekindled the anger burning within Ewan. Just as Ewan was about to lunge at the Laird and beat the tar out of him, he felt Bridget's hand on his arm.

"He's not worth any more of our time," Bridget said. "I can see that not everyone on the island is as hospitable as you are, Laird MacCartney. My father will hear about your kindness. As for you, Laird Alistair, pray that our paths don't cross again."

Ewan's eyes widened with shock as Bridget turned on her heels and stormed through the crowd. The fact that she not only defused the situation but also calmed his racing thoughts stunned Ewan into silence.

"Ye heard the lass," Ewan said through gritted teeth. "I suggest ye pay heed to her warnin', as it'll nae be repeated. Now leave and dinnae come back here."