Chapter 15

15

" D rink?" Ewan asked as he pushed open the doors to his study.

Bridget's heart raced as she entered the large room. Books lined the shelves along the wall. In the corner of the room, a large oak desk with intricate carvings of wolves dominated the space.

Although this wasn't the first time she'd seen Ewan's study, it was the first time she'd felt intimidated by it. Everything about it was immaculate and polished. It was clear Ewan took great pride in this room, and Bridget couldn't help but feel honored to join him there.

"No, thank you," she answered as she ran her fingers over the plush sofa in front of the fireplace. She raised an eyebrow the moment she spotted the chessboard in the corner.

As if pulled by an unseen force, Bridget found herself heading to the chessboard.

"Do ye play?" Ewan asked as he filled his glass to the brim with the intoxicating liquor Bridget couldn't quite acquire a taste for.

"A little," Bridget answered as she picked up the ivory king and studied the small, delicate carvings of the king and crown. "My father would play with his friends. When I was little, I was allowed to watch from under the table. I learned a little, but I was told I couldn't play it, as it was a men's game."

"Well, I dinnae ken about that. It certainly requires a person to think in ways ye may nae be comfortable wit'. They say if ye can conquer yer opponent in chess, then there's nay reason for the battle, for the war has already been won."

"I wonder how much truth there is to that saying," Bridget mused as her attention turned from the trinkets, books, and paintings to Ewan.

"Would ye like to learn?" he asked. "I could teach ye if ye so wish."

Bridget placed the ivory piece back on the board and moved to the sofa. "As much as I'd love to learn, I don't think we'd have the time."

Ewan nodded his head as his expression hardened. She wondered what was going through his mind that made his mood shift so drastically. For a moment, she thought that perhaps the news of her leaving had caused him distress. The thought made her smile contemplatively.

"Aye, I suppose ye'll be leavin' soon then?" Ewan asked.

There was a pain in his voice that flustered Bridget. All of her misconceptions about Ewan were slowly coming to light. Pulling in a deep breath, Ewan walked to the fireplace and tossed a log into the fire.

"I don't see any reason for me to stick around when I am expected elsewhere," Bridget said.

Genuine concern crossed his face at her words. The more Bridget watched him, the more fascinated she became by him. He wasn't the ruffian she had thought him to be. He was strong, yes, but with cause and purpose. It was his very presence that demanded respect.

Her eyes roamed freely over his body, starting at the brown locks that curled around his ears. She wanted to run her fingers through them and pull him in her embrace. Heat rushed to her cheeks as her eyes scanned his bow-shaped lips. Her heart skipped a beat as she thought of his lips on hers.

How skilled he was in wooing her. Even though she knew she couldn't have him, she longed for him. She didn't care about the leather mask covering half of his face. That didn't concern her one little bit. If anything, it made him more mysterious and alluring. Every fiber of her being ached to touch him.

As she reclined on the sofa, she hoped against hope that he would ruin her.

"Aye, I suppose yer friend will be concerned about ye if ye dinnae show up soon," Ewan said as he started pacing the length of the room.

Bridget couldn't understand what had caused the sudden shift in his mood. It was as if someone had dispatched his favorite dog.

"Are you well?" Bridget asked as she shifted to follow his movements. He paused and glared at her for a moment. "Why does it seem like every time you get upset, anger is your first response? I swear, it's like every time I'm with you, you're threatening a man's life."

"I understand anger," Ewan answered plainly. "Most men understand death. Ye dinnae want to cross an angry man wit' nothin' to lose. They're the deadliest of all."

"And what, pray tell, do you have to lose?" Bridget asked as she found herself gravitating closer to him.

"What makes ye think I have anythin'?" he countered as he lifted his glass to his lips and took a long swig.

Bridget watched the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed. How she wished he could drink her until there was nothing left but a memory of who she was. As her fantasy danced along the frayed edges of her mind, she averted her eyes to hide the blush staining her cheeks.

"Everyone has something they cherish," she said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

The air in the room seemed to thicken, leaving her flushed and gulping for air. She was suddenly very aware of how alone she was with Ewan. If they'd been in England, her reputation would have been destroyed, and her only hope for a future would have rested against the closed walls of a nunnery.

"Something they don't want to lose."

"And what do ye hold dear to yer heart?" Ewan asked directly.

There was no hiding from his gaze. Bridget found the words resting on the tip of her tongue, yet they would not come forward. She stared at him, bewildered by his presence and the smile that spread across his face.

"What's this? Cat got yer tongue? I never thought I'd see the day an Englishwoman was rendered speechless," Ewan teased. "Then again, I suppose ye never really ken what a real man looks like."

"Try saying that to the Viscount." Bridget chuckled darkly as thoughts of Paul dueling Ewan flashed through her mind.

There was no doubt in her mind that Ewan would be merciless to the Viscount and knock him off his high horse. The thought tickled Bridget. As she let out a light chuckle, she cupped her hand over her mouth and shook her head.

"Why do ye do that?" Ewan asked. "Ye cover yer mouth every time ye smile. Do ye think ye dinnae have a pretty smile? Because whoever told ye such lies, I'll have his tongue."

Bridget's eyebrows knitted in confusion as she shook her head in disbelief. "No. We don't do that to other people. Has no one taught you how to be civil?"

He smirked as he joined her on the sofa.

"Am I nae bein' such now?" Ewan asked as he played with her hair. "Trust me when I say I dinnae have to be a gentleman. In fact, I prefer it if I werenae. But for yer sake, lass, I'll contain meself."

"That's mighty considerate of you, and here I thought there was no training a brutish Scot."

Ewan's eyes flashed with a fire that caught Bridget by surprise. The last time she had seen such a response, Ewan had stolen a kiss. Her heart fluttered wildly as she leaned away from him. He wasn't allowing her such an easy escape. When she moved, he moved, like the shore and the waves colliding. No matter where Bridget turned, Ewan blocked her way.

"Do ye have any idea what I want to do to ye?" Ewan whispered in her ear.

His hot breath caressed her neck and caused goosebumps to spread across her skin. Her body instinctively quivered at his proximity. Closing her eyes, she waited for his kiss. When far too much time had passed, Bridget opened her eyes to find Ewan watching her like a hawk.

"No."

The word scraped against her throat as little tingles raced from the top of her head to her toes. It was as if every nerve in her body was nothing more than a match to a flame and Ewan held the torch.

"Nay? Did ye want me to leave ye be? Because if I'm bein' honest, I dinnae think I can. Ye've transfixed and perplexed me. But more than anythin'…"

Bridget hung on to his every word and sighed when she saw him stepping away from her. In a surge of panic, Bridget did the one thing she never thought she'd do. Before she could stop herself, she followed him, curling her fingers around Ewan's forearm and holding him in place.

"Don't turn away from me," she whispered, trying to catch his eye. Ewan kept his focus on the ground like a stubborn child refusing his parents' correction. "Please."

"Dinnae tempt me, lass," Ewan said as he stood there, his eyes locked on her hand as if it were a shackle about his wrist. "I'll ruin ye and yer future."

"How can you say that? You don't know what the future holds."

"Perhaps, but I ken people, and ‘tis nae every day that ye meet someone dishin' out kindness like biscuits."

"If anyone here has been kind to anyone, it would be you. Since the moment you found me in the woods, you've taken care of me, protected me. What more can a woman ask for?"

"Title, lands, reputation, honor, dignity, respect." Ewan blasted one after another as if they were bullets to deter her from coming any closer to him.

"You speak as if a woman can own such things. We are only as valuable as our husbands, which is why I refuse to marry. I'd rather be a spinster and live out a life that I designed than be shackled to a man because of what my father can give to him."

"God, nay," Ewan said with such desperation in his voice that it shocked Bridget.

Before she could ask what was going through his mind, Ewan's hand cradled her head as he crushed his lips to hers. His kiss was hungry and primal. It was as if he was trying to ease every pain Bridget had endured throughout her life.

Overcome with passion, Bridget threw her arms around Ewan and pulled him to her. She didn't care about the back of her thighs hitting the edge of his desk, nor did she mind the papers that floated to the ground as Ewan made space for her.

"Ye must nae go to a nunnery. They dinnae deserve ye," Ewan said as he planted kisses along the length of her neck.

Bridget reveled in his attention. It was as if the world could burn around them and she wouldn't care. Her father could stroll through the study doors with the Viscount in tow and she'd beg Ewan to ravish her even more.

The room spun like a top ready to tumble. Her head was foggy, and her wits were frazzled. She didn't know what to think. All she knew was that although she loved his kisses and attention, Ewan would just behave like the other men she had been with before.

"Wait… This will only lead to heartache. You'll lie to get what you want, and in the end, it'll be me who is damaged and whose life is destroyed."

"It would seem we have more in common than I thought," Ewan said as he pulled away and ran his fingers through his hair, letting out a heavy sigh.

"Perhaps we do," Bridget said as she watched him.

It was clear he was just as frustrated as she was. Bridget didn't know whether to stay or go. She pushed off Ewan's desk and smoothed the wrinkles from her skirt.

The moment her eyes locked on to his, Ewan rushed back to her. There was no resisting him, no denying him. She welcomed him with open arms.

Ruin me, please. Then I can stay here with you forever. Hike my skirt up and take me. Please, Ewan. I know you want to. I know I want you to so badly.