Chapter 17

17

T he chatter in the Great Hall droned in the background as Bridget poked mindlessly at the potatoes on her plate. Her thoughts were turbulent and disjointed. Not knowing what Ewan would say or do the next time he saw her made every nerve in her body tingle with anxiety.

Each new person who entered the Great Hall caused Bridget to glance at the doorway with an odd mix of dread and anticipation. Disappointment filled her each time she looked up, only to see another person who was not Ewan. The waiting was driving her crazy.

"What do ye say, want to join us?" Ava's voice pulled Bridget from the mire of her thoughts.

Blinking until the room came back into focus, Bridget pulled her attention away from the door.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" she asked, trying not to sound as flustered as she felt.

"What did I tell ye? She wasnae even listenin'," Ava teased as she nudged Martha. "Wonder what's on yer mind?"

Heat flooded through every inch of Bridget's body and made her nerves tingle. She didn't dare look at Ava, knowing all too well that her expression would give her away. Keeping her eyes downcast, she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, praying for some sort of distraction.

"Dinnae tease the poor lass," Martha said, reaching across the table to give Bridget a pat on the hand. "She's been through enough."

"Oh, nay, dinnae tell me Ewan is on yer mind?" Ava gasped as if the notion was beyond shocking.

"What makes you think that?" Bridget asked as her eyes returned to the doorway.

Her breath hitched the moment her eyes fell on Ewan as he bounded into the Great Hall like a conquering hero. How anyone could ignore him baffled her. Ewan possessed a strong personality that demanded attention when he walked into any room.

"Are ye sure ye want me to answer that?" Ava asked as she cocked her head mockingly.

"No," Bridget answered, trying desperately to look away before Ewan spotted her in the crowd, but she couldn't stop herself from stealing one more look his way. "He's just so pompous, don't you think?"

Bridget couldn't help but wonder why she wasn't dying from embarrassment. It felt as if everyone was staring at her. She felt all that was missing to top off the moment would be if Ewan saw her turning beet red. Glancing again at the doorway, she saw that his gaze was focused directly on her.

Brimming with a new rush of emotions she couldn't quite identify, Bridget whipped her head around and gave her full attention to Ava and Martha. As long as Ewan continued to act like he was ignoring her, that was precisely what she was going to do to him in return.

Since their moment in the study, Bridget had felt like an afterthought ever since. It was as though he was purposely ignoring her every chance he got, yet at the same time stealing as many glances at her as he could. The way he was treating her was giving her emotional whiplash.

"You mentioned going to the village?" Bridget asked Ava, a note of desperation in her voice that she wished she could ignore.

At the moment, the Great Hall was the last place she wanted to be. If Ewan was going to be there, she would not. Her poor heart couldn't handle any more rejection.

"Aye, so ye were payin' attention," Ava said with a hearty chuckle as she finished off the last bits on her plate. "We were plannin' on goin' to the village after we finish up here. If ye'd like to tag along, ye can. But are ye sure ye want to? After all, there seems to be more goin' on here, wouldnae ye say?"

"I willnae tell ye again to stop teasin' the poor girl," Martha scolded her.

"Come now, Bridget's got a sense of humor, do ye nae?" Ava remarked as she gave Bridget a wink that made her want to blush all the more. "After all, ye seem to be pinin' for me cousin—surely ye must find that entertainin', nay?"

"Ava," Martha scolded and finally batted Ava with her hand. "Do ye have wax in yer ears? What did I just tell ye?"

"All right, enough." Ava chuckled as Bridget glanced over her shoulder at the last place she'd seen Ewan, only to find he had gone.

Her heart fluttered and jumped. She hated the fact that everyone could read her so well. Pulling in a deep breath, she resigned herself to her fate. Ewan had made it clear where he stood on the matter of their relationship.

"Indeed," Bridget said a bit too enthusiastically, trying to quell the ache in her heart and mind. She wasn't going to let one man ruin her entire day, let alone the remaining time she had with Ava and Martha. Pushing her plate away, she stood up. "Who's ready to go to the village?"

"Are ye sure ye should be doin' that?" The familiar husky voice was like a tambourine rattling through Bridget's body and rekindling the desires she had so carefully tucked away. "Ye look like ye can barely stand. I dinnae think yer ankle is strong enough yet for ye to go on so many outings."

"She'll be fine," Ava said, while Bridget didn't even dare to glance over her shoulder. She knew the moment she laid eyes on him, she'd melt in his strong hands and give in to his desires. "Am I nae the healer? Ye think I wouldnae ken if her foot was well enough?"

"Be back before nightfall," Ewan warned, just as Bridget's resolve was crumbling.

Ewan's musky pine scent swirled around her, making it nearly impossible to think clearly. There was no doubt in her mind that Ewan knew exactly what effect he had on her and savored the torture he forced her to endure.

"Is that so? And what if we're nae?" Ava asked as Bridget's need to look at him overwhelmed her. But as she looked up, Ewan was gone. He'd vanished just as swiftly as he'd arrived, leaving a whiff of pine and fresh air in his wake.

"Sounds like that is non-negotiable," Bridget said as Ava rose, followed by Martha.

The moment they stepped away from the table, the servants began clearing away their dishes.

"I wouldnae be so sure about that," Martha said in a gentle tone that soothed Bridget almost instantly. "There's always an exception to the rule. Ewan understands that. Oh, for Heaven's sake, what is this nonsense? Logan, ye better nae be joinin' us."

"Ye ken me braither all too well, do ye nae?" Logan answered with a chuckle. "But I'm nae one to cross him. However, if ye want to, then by all means, tell me where I should go and I'll leave ye."

"I believe there are some issues on the southern part of the island ye could tend to," Martha said with a knowing smirk.

Logan nodded his head and stepped aside as the carriage pulled up to the front steps.

"Ladies, we're wastin' daylight."

Ava smiled at Bridget while grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her along. "Come on. I want to show ye the weavers. Ye're goin' to love their tapestries."

As they walked to the carriage, an uneasiness settled into Bridget's stomach. She glanced at the castle, hunting through the dark windows for some sign of life. Bridget gasped when she spotted Ewan brooding and staring listlessly out the window of his study. It was as if life had rushed back into her and everything was fresh and new.

She wished more than anything to be able to stay now that she saw how sad he looked, but with Ava's tugging and Martha's insistent look, Bridget climbed into the carriage.

"Dinnae think about it," Ava said. "We're nae about to let ye back out of goin' wit' us. Ye're already in the carriage."

Bridget shifted in her seat, trying to settle her nerves, but it was no use. All she could do was smile weakly and wish that her festering feelings for Ewan would fade. She knew there was no way he would have her. It wasn't just because she was English. She knew it from the way her body crowded one seat while Ava and Martha had the other.

"So, tell us more about that club ye're in," Ava said, pulling Bridget from her dark ruminations.

Bridget's thoughts were instantly filled with home. As she went into more details, she couldn't help but wonder what the people back in England would say about her grand adventure, or what they'd have to say about Ewan. However, before she could brace herself for the impact, her thoughts of Ewan once again swarmed her mind like bees.

"I think you would enjoy it. I know we could use some of your skills," Bridget said. "I certainly know I could use some of your help. How did you know what herbs to use to aid the healing of my ankle? And how long do you steep your willow bark?"

"Why would ye steep Willow bark?" Ava asked as she looked to Martha for the answer.

Bridget's eyes widened in surprise. "It's used to aid with pain," she explained. "What do you normally use?"

"Whiskey," Ava and Martha answered in unison.

The laughter that filled the carriage soothed Bridget. Even though she was far from home, it still felt like her family and friends were with her. As much as she wanted to get back to England, the thought of going back unnerved her.

It was easy for Bridget to see her life play out on the forgotten Scottish island. The vision came so effortlessly to her. In a blink, she saw herself strolling along the Scottish shoreline, the gravel crunching underfoot as the birds squawked in the sky. It was absolute peace, the kind that people only dreamed about and hardly ever achieved.

"We are here," Ava cooed as the carriage came to a stop.

It didn't take long for them to pry open the carriage doors and step out. The salty sea air swirled around Bridget as she exited the carriage last. There was a grayish hue to the sky that dampened the brightness of the sun. But the sight of the women in the village talking and laughingput a smile on her face, and she discovered that she was eager to explore.

"Oh, come now, surely you must have seen her. I was told that I would find her here." The familiar voice completely unnerved Bridget.

With her heart pumping wildly in her chest, she dared to glance over her shoulder. Much to her surprise, Paul St. Vincent stood no more than ten feet away from her.

What is he doing here? How did he even find me?

Her heart pounded in her ears, and her skin tingled. She glanced around, searching for someplace to hide.

"Are ye well? Ye look a wee bit pale there," Ava said.

Bridget shook her head as her hand flew out and grabbed Ava's arm for support.

"We need to get back to the castle right away," she whispered so quietly that Ava had to lean in to hear her. But even then she feared Paul would pick up her English accent.

"Nonsense, we just got here," Martha said as Bridget's eyes darted in Paul's direction.

She didn't know what would happen if he saw her there, but it was easy to envision him grabbing her by the arm and demanding she leave this wretched place instantly.

"I have to go," Bridget hissed.

"What is goin' on?" Ava asked as Bridget moved around her, using both Martha and Ava to block herself from Paul's view.

"The Viscount," Bridget whispered. "Paul St. Vincent. He's here."

"What?" Ava asked as she glanced about, hunting for the man. "Where?"

"It doesn't matter," Bridget answered. "What matters is what happens if he sees me here. Please, we need to get back to the castle. I don't want him to cause a scene."

"Aye," Martha answered as she stood taller. "Ye head on back. I came to gather a few things, and I cannae leave without them."

"I'll just walk back," Bridget said and turned.

With too much energy coursing through her veins, she started for the castle. Her mind reeled with the shock of seeing Paul. She couldn't fathom why on earth he would travel so far away from London. It wasn't like he wanted to marry her. But sticking around to find out why he was there wasn't something that sounded smart to Bridget.

She knew at once that she wasn't ready to go back to England, at least not with Paul. If and when she went back, it would be on her terms and no one else's.

I won't let him take me back there. I'll not be the pitiful bride, and there's no way he'll get one cent of my dowry. I'd rather die than become St. Vincent's wife.