Chapter 16

16

" W hy must you torment me so?" Bridget gasped as her arms tightened around Ewan's neck.

Unable to control himself, he sank into her embrace. It was as if he had come home. It was a feeling he hadn't experienced in a lifetime.

"I'm nae the tease here," Ewan growled as he pulled back her hair for better access to her neck.

Ewan enjoyed watching the little goosebumps rising across her skin. He made it a priority to trace every bump with his tongue until he had caressed every last inch of her.

"Yes, you are," she whispered as his hand grazed her neck, ever so slightly brushing the tips of his fingers over her skin.

Lust flickered like embers in a fireplace. Ewan pulled in a long, deep breath, savoring Bridget's scent. It was as if he had stepped into a field of wildflowers.

"Is that so? Then ye wouldnae mind if I did this," Ewan whispered as he clawed at the fabric of her skirt.

Keeping an eye on Bridget, he pushed her dress up to her waist. She leaned against his desk, her eyes wild and fierce as his hand slipped between her thighs. Intrigued, he watched her squirm as he dared to guide his fingers into the warm sanctuary of her body.

When he noticed that the yearning in her eyes matched his rising lust, Ewan could no longer control himself.

"What are you doing?" Bridget asked as she squeezed her legs together, denying him further access to her body.

Her blockade was beyond disappointing. Refusing to let that be the end of their moment, Ewan dropped to his knees.

"Claimin' what ye owe me," he mumbled as he started kissing her bare legs.

It didn't take too long before Bridget's apprehension faded. She grabbed Ewan's hand and drew it to her breast. Ewan's eyes widened as he explored the hills and valleys of her bosom. With his manhood throbbing for attention, he wiggled his tongue between her inner thighs. How he wanted to taste her. The need to consume her was overwhelming.

"Please," Bridget mumbled as she grabbed the hem of her dress and turned her head to the side.

Ewan leaned back, watching her. She squirmed as a sleepy smile spread across her face.

"I promised ye I wouldnae touch ye. It seems I'm nae very good at keeping me hands off ye," Ewan said, rising to his feet.

He let out a heavy sigh and stumbled away from her. Bridget swiftly dropped the fabric of her dress over her legs. Watching her through the reflection of the window, Ewan mulled over his actions. Had there been a sign he hadn't seen? It would be something that would haunt him for the rest of the night.

"I… well… I've never… and if I did, let's just say it would be the end of me," she said, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Surely yer faither wouldnae kill ye for somethin' as natural as lyin' wit' a man?"

Bridget's dark laughter filled the room. "You certainly don't know anything about being English, do you?"

"And why would I when I'm a Scot?"

Bridget rose slowly from the desk and walked over to the fire. She stared at the flames in silence. Ewan didn't know what was hotter, the heat coming off the logs in the fireplace or Bridget's body heat.

"I shouldn't be here with you," Bridget said as she glanced around. "This is wrong. I'm so sorry I have wasted your time. This was so foolish of me. What was I thinking?"

As Bridget ran her fingers through her hair, Ewan could see the panic and horror as reality struck her. He sucked in a deep breath and held it as long as he could as he watched Bridget step away from him and dart out of the room. Only once she had left did he dare to breathe. Ewan moved to the sofa and plopped down on it.

It wasn't the first time he had felt the sting of rejection, but this time it dug deeper than he had anticipated. It was as if someone had masked the sun and all its light, and he didn't know why. As he replayed what happened during the last hour in his mind, he rubbed his fingers over his lips and smiled.

He didn't care that he had her to himself for that long. Nor did care what everyone would say once he exited his study. All that he cared about was the taste of Bridget's kiss lingering on his lips.

A sharp rap on the door pulled Ewan out of his thoughts. He cleared his throat and moved to his desk. The last thing he wanted was for Logan or Ava to see him so distraught. No, he was the Laird and had no room for emotions or relationships.

"Enter," Ewan said. The moment the command was given, the door swung open. "Auntie, if ye've come to scold me about kickin' a man out of yer cèilidh, dinnae waste yer breath—I dinnae want to hear it."

"Ye ken better than to threaten a laird, especially one we have to share the island wit'. What do ye think ye were doin'?"

"Me?" Ewan asked as he rose from his seat.

He wanted to spew venom at his aunt for barging into his study to scold him on matters she didn't fully understand. But as the poisonous words formed on the tip of his tongue, all Ewan could think about was Bridget. It was her honor he was trying to salvage and steal all at once. He wanted to hunt her down and apologize, but after the way she left, he knew better than to approach her again. Whatever feelings he had for her, fleeting as they were, he vowed to hold on to.

"Why in the world would ye invite Laird Alistair when ye ken as well as I do that, once drink touches his lips, he's one traitorous bastard?" Ewan said, controlling his anger as it bubbled and stewed within him. "The man would sell his sister to a monster just to fill his coffers."

"Ye still had nay right to toss him out. It'll take months to mend what ye just threw out the window. Did ye ken that yer braither has been workin' wit' him to smooth out our trades? Now we've got to work harder to mend the bond."

Ewan shook his head as he slammed his fist into the desk. "Ye'll do nay such thin'. Cut him off. We dinnae need a thin' he produces. In fact, he needs us more than we need him. It's the whole reason he tried to get his sister to marry me."

"Ye think me memory isnae as good as yers? Or do ye think I wanted ye to marry that woman?" his aunt asked.

Her eyes bored into his, and for just a fragment of a moment, he could have sworn he saw his mother staring back at him. Ewan let out a heavy sigh and agreed to make amends by any means necessary.

"Ye ken why I'll never marry. It doesnae matter if a Scottish lass or an English one comes to me askin' for such a thin'—the answer will be nay," Ewan said through gritted teeth.

"Then ye best be careful what ye do wit' the English lass," his aunt said. "England is governed by a different set of rules. If word gets out that Bridget's reputation has been compromised, it'll be the end of her."

Ewan stared at his aunt for a moment, letting her words sink in. The last thing he wanted was to steal Bridget's future, but oh how he wanted her present. Chewing on his lower lip, he contemplated the choices before him. On one hand, if he ruined Bridget, she'd have no place to go but the nunnery. On the other hand, he could wed her and keep her.

Images of Bridget fleeing from his study flashed before his eyes. He couldn't deny the fact that she had run from him first. It suddenly dawned on him what it was she was trying to tell him. It was the reason she couldn't let him go any further.

Sadness seeped into Ewan like a foggy rain shrouding the island. It was the kind of fog that deceived sailors, causing them to crash into the rocky shores. However, he could be a beacon of hope for Bridget.

"Ewan, do ye understand what I'm tellin' ye? Ye cannae be seen wit' her alone again. There cannae be any hidden moments wit' the lass. Nae unless ye plan to wed her. But even then ye risk tarnishin' her name and yers."

"Ye think I give a flyin' hoot about me name? Me faither gave it to me and wit' it the responsibility to lead this clan, and that's what I'll do."

His aunt placed her hand on his cheek and stared at him. Her direct gaze unnerved him. It was as if she was drawing out his darkest secrets and exposing them for the world to see.

"I think ye have feelings for the lass despite what ye want the world to believe," she answered. "I've been watchin' ye, and I've seen how ye look at her."

"Wit' disdain," Ewan grumbled as he lowered himself into his seat and tried to focus on the papers on his desk. "She's been nothin' but a nuisance since she got here. Ye really think I can or will tolerate such a person much longer? Nay, dear auntie. There's nothin' between the Sassenach and meself."

His aunt flashed him a weary smile and stood up. If there was one thing Ewan loved the most about his aunt, it was how graceful she was when she exited a room. Regardless of who won the argument, his aunt always kept her head up high.

Guilt jabbed at him as he watched his aunt depart. He understood exactly what it was she was asking of him. But the more Ewan thought about it, the more he realized he wouldn't be able to follow through. Bridget was like a ball of light, so carefree and sweet. She had become a sanctuary for him, and the mere thought of her returning to England shook him to the core.

"I cannae marry the lass. She deserves better than I could ever give her," Ewan said to himself as he glanced at the portrait of his father that hung over the fireplace. "Even if I could… nay, the rumors and chatter would be enough to drive me mad. Ugh, I hate it when Auntie is right. I cannae show Bridget favoritism. It'll tear the clan apart. And I'll nae be the weak link."