Chapter 18

18

" M ind tellin' me what that was all about?" Ewan asked as he leaned against the bay window, peering out into the dying light.

His heart raced as he searched the horizon for his aunt's carriage. Had he not warned her to return before dark? Sure, there were still several hours remaining in the day, but having Bridget out of the castle made him nervous. The fact that he was far more concerned about Bridget than his aunt rattled him.

"Havenae the foggiest idea of what ye're talkin' about," Logan said as he stood tall under the weight of Ewan's rugged tone. "But if ye're lookin' to pick a fight, then we should take it outside, nay?"

"Did ye nae swear yer allegiance to me?" Ewan huffed.

Before Logan could answer, Ewan continued his barrage of questions.

"I dinnae ken why ye're takin' yer frustrations out on me," Logan said as he stepped up to Ewan, who was itching for a fight. "If ye didnae want the lasses to go to the village, then why did ye let them leave? Ye do realize ye've brought this upon yerself? And since when did ye begin to care about Auntie goin' into the village? Unless this isnae about her."

Ewan flinched as the truth of his brother's words slapped him across the face. It was unfair of Ewan to take his frustrations out on Logan. As soon as he realized what he was doing, his guilt swelled up. Stepping away from Logan, he didn't need to figure out what was bothering him so much. He already knew it was that charismatic, brown-haired lass who had gotten him into this mess.

Logan's laughter filled the study as his eyes widened in sudden realization. "I'd kenned ye had feelings for that strumpet."

"Dinnae call her that. Aye, she's a bit free-spirited, but she's nay strumpet," Ewan warned.

He didn't like the fact that his brother was now more aware of his feelings for Bridget. Although Ewan wasn't entirely sure how he felt about the Englishwoman, he was certain that she had managed to find a way to get under his skin.

"Well then, I suppose it would bother ye a wee bit too much to learn that there is an Englishman on the island lookin' for her," Logan said, a concerned gleam in his eyes.

Panic shot through Ewan like a bolt of lightning. He jumped up from his chair, eager to charge and defend.

"And ye are just now tellin' me this?" he snapped.

"I assumed ye'd be pleased that the lass has family lookin' for her," Logan countered.

"Of course I am, but does she ken?" Ewan asked as he tried to sort through the emotions that were running amok within him.

He didn't know whether or not he was happy or sad. On the one hand, he knew the day would come when she would have to leave—he just didn't expect it to be so soon. Yet, on the other hand, what future could he offer her? It wasn't like he could hand over the keys to his kingdom, no matter how deeply he desired her.

"I dinnae think so. Would ye like for me to tell her? Or perhaps invite the Viscount for dinner so that he may collect the lass himself?"

"Nay," Ewan shouted. Even he could hear the nervousness in his voice. "Dinnae do that. But I would like ye to find out who told the Viscount that Bridget was on this island."

"Why does it matter?" Logan asked as Ewan moved from his desk to the window.

He stared at the horizon once again. Panic coursed through him, the likes of which he had never experienced. It was like the earth had suddenly shifted and everything wobbled as it settled.

What if Bridget never came back? What if the Viscount already had his hands on her, dragging her back to his ship, and Ewan would never see her again? The mere thought of it disturbed Ewan more than he had expected. He turned swiftly to Logan and swallowed hard. It was difficult enough that he was coming to terms with the fact that he had feelings for the woman, but he couldn't bring himself to voice his newly discovered feelings.

"It matters because someone is tryin' to stir trouble in the clan," Ewan answered. "Think about it. There are hundreds of islands in this region, is there nae? Have we nae gotten lost a time or two thinkin' we arrived home, only to learn we hadnae?"

"Aye, there was a time or two," Logan conceded.

"Then how is it that a foreigner, wit' nay knowledge of the seas or the islands in this region, kens how to come here? To this very island? Somethin' doesnae feel right about it, and I want ye to get to the bottom of it. Can I trust ye to do that?" Ewan's throat closed around the words as he stared at his brother.

Although Ewan and Logan had been through far more difficult times, Ewan had never asked his brother to take care of something so valuable.

"Ye're right, that doesnae make much sense. Ye think the English are tryin' to invade?" Logan asked.

"Nay, but I want ye to get to the bottom of this," Ewan repeated as he moved to his brother and put his hand on his shoulder.

Logan gave a swift nod in response. "Ye ken ye can count on me," he said.

Ewan dropped his hand, and as he turned his back to Logan, he could hear his brother leave the room. Glancing over his shoulder, Ewan noticed he indeed had the study to himself. Once alone, doubt crept up on him.

Wild visions flashed through his mind as he thought of Bridget. He could see her struggling against hardened men trying to kidnap her, and it made his blood boil. There was no way he could just stand there when he could do something about it.

Ewan charged out of the study and went to the stables. He didn't care how many side glances he got from the staff. They had been looking at him differently since his accident. But it wasn't like going for a ride was so unusual for him. Yet, as he made his way to the stables, the looks of the servants felt different—more judgmental than usual. He didn't like the sensation that was brewing within him and was relieved when he pushed through the side doors and stepped out into the fresh air.

"Me Laird?" the stable boy gasped the moment Ewan entered the stables.

"Is there a horse already saddled?" Ewan asked as he glanced around the stalls.

"Aye, there is, but it was for Edger Jones," the stable boy answered.

"The councilman? Let that pompous prick wait. Fetch me his horse and saddle mine for him," Ewan ordered.

The boy moved swiftly, carrying out his orders, and brought Ewan the councilman's horse.

Without a word, Ewan mounted the steed and settled in the saddle. While the horse was a bit bigger than he was used to, he quickly managed and took off.

Cutting through the heather and the tall field grass, Ewan rode hard toward the village. His mind raced faster than the horse as he navigated the shortcut to the village with skill and precision.

His heart pounded against his ribs as he drew closer to the village. He didn't know what he was walking into or what to expect. All he knew was that if Bridget was in danger, he was going to be the one to save her. There was no way he was going to let the Viscount steal the only person that made him want to be a better man. Bridget had become more than a pretty face about the castle—she had wormed her way into the marrow of his bones.

Movement in the corner of his eye caused his body to tingle. Whipping his head around, he noticed the insignia of his aunt's carriage. As much as he wanted to feel relief at the sight, he knew he wouldn't until he saw Bridget with his own eyes. Carefully turning the horse around, Ewan stuck to the shadows of the trees as he rode parallel to the carriage. He ducked and dodged low-hanging tree branches as he tried to get a glimpse of her through the carriage window.

With the grove of trees getting thinner and thinner, Ewan knew that he only had a short amount of time before he was spotted. If he was going to catch a glimpse of her, it would have to be now. Taking a chance, he shot out from the tree line the moment the carriage passed him by.

Ewan spotted Bridget sitting on the opposite side of his cousin and aunt. She was just as radiant as ever, but there was a hint of worry that creased her brow. He couldn't help but pray that the cause for her concern wasn't the Viscount's arrival, but something minor and trivial that had to do with a shop in the village.

As much as Ewan wanted to ride up to the carriage and demand to know what was bothering her, he pulled back and let the carriage ramble over the hump of the hill.

Relief finally washed over him as he pulled in deep, heavy breaths to settle his nerves. He was pleased that Bridget was still on the island, but he was very aware of the fact that she knew her time there was short. Pursing his lips, Ewan mulled over his next steps. He knew that he couldn't keep her indefinitely, but if he could postpone her reunion with her fellow countrymen, then maybe he'd be able to convince her to stay.

It was a wild idea that struck him like a blow to the gut. He didn't want to lose her.

The ride back to the castle was filled with numerous turbulent, wild schemes racing through Ewan's mind. He contemplated various ways of keeping Bridget, as well as creative tactics to rid the world of the Viscount.

As the castle came into view, one thing became certain: Ewan wouldn't give Bridget up without a fight.