Chapter 19

19

T his cannot be happening. What am I going to do? What is Paul even doing here? So help me, if he thinks that he's going to come here and find some way to take me back, he has another thing coming.

Bridget ran her fingers through her hair and tried to remain calm. She paced the length of her room, trying to find some glimmer of hope. The only good thing was the fact that the Viscount had not seen her. She replayed the encounter in her mind and gasped as she realized just how close she had come to being discovered. Paul had been so near that it made her skin crawl.

This is not good. If he's here, he'll demand I marry him. I cannot let that happen, I won't. I'll not be some puppet he can toy around with. I'd rather be ruined and live in a convent than be with Paul St. Vincent.

It felt as if an icy finger slithered down her body from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. Little tingles ran down her spine as an idea formed in her head. Her eyes widened, and her chest tightened.

She couldn't even believe the thoughts that were popping into her head. They were coming from a place of desperation that was mingling with her determination. She mulled over the idea and played with it until it formed a cohesive thought. The idea was so far-fetched, so wildly unlike her, that she knew it would be the only way to escape her fate.

Get him to bed me.

Bridget didn't dare speak the words out loud. Even the thought of it felt taboo and sticky, as if she had just rolled around in muck and mire. Still, this was indeed the solution to all of her problems. If she could get Ewan to lie with her, she would be able to go far away, and Paul wouldn't have any say about it.

The mattress moaned under her weight as she plopped down on the bed. Coming up with the idea was one thing, but executing it was an entirely different matter. Bridget had no experience in the ways of seducing men. She'd barely held anyone's attention at the gatherings back home, and yet here she was, thinking of throwing herself at Ewan.

I suppose there's only one way to find out.

Mustering her courage and strength, Bridget headed for the door. As she formulated Plan A, her mind was quickly racing to formulate Plan B. She knew that she had to factor in some degree of rejection from Ewan. If she had a counter-attack, then perhaps she would be able to get what she wanted.

The sounds of footsteps echoing down the hallway only heightened the tension in her neck and shoulders. If she was going to confront Ewan, the strong Highlander warrior that he was, she was going to have to mirror his strength.

Bridget made a detour to the library. It was the only room that she knew of in the whole castle that would allow her the time she needed to gather her wits. It was also the only place she knew of to get a dram.

The library was still and quiet, the perfect place for her to pull herself together. She made a beeline for the small table in the corner of the room and poured herself a hefty measure. The liquor burned as it went down her throat and scorched her chest, but it was the fire that she needed to drown out her inner voice.

"What is this?" The husky familiar voice coming from behind her caught her off guard.

Bridget spun around, nearly dropping her glass. At the last second, Ewan's strong, steady hands saved the cup before it fell to the ground.

"Somethin' botherin' ye? Ye're a bit jumpy. And I dinnae recall ever seein' ye drink durin' the day."

Bridget stared wide-eyed at Ewan. She had been hell-bent on finding him, and now that he was standing within an arm's length from her, she couldn't muster the courage to say what she wanted.

"I have a lot on my mind," she answered as she turned her back to him and poured herself another glass.

"Are ye sure ye want to do that, lass? Ye nearly dropped yer glass a moment ago."

"You startled me," Bridget explained. "I thought that I had the library to myself."

"Did ye want me to leave?"

Bridget paused for a moment, pondering Ewan's question. She stared at him and wondered if she would ever find another man as handsome as him. He towered over her in a way that made her feel sheltered and protected. All she wanted was to be wrapped in his strong embrace. The emotions that flowed through her made it easy for her to take the next step.

"No," Bridget answered as her voice quivered with anticipation.

She glanced over her shoulder and batted her eyelashes as she looked at him. There is no doubt that the art of seduction was beyond her. All she had to refer to were the books that she'd smuggled from one of her friends at their secret society. Yet, as she stood before Ewan, she couldn't help but realize she was living out her own story.

"I don't want you to go. Would you like a drink?"

Ewan arched an eyebrow as he studied her with skepticism. "I am nae one for drinkin' durin' the day, but ye seem to have somethin' on yer mind."

"That's always the problem," Bridget said. "Everyone seems to be able to read me like an open book."

"I wouldnae say that," Ewan said as he grabbed the glass from her hand.

"You would be surprised at how easy it seems to be," Bridget said with a polite smile as she watched Ewan down the contents of the glass in one gulp.

"Aye, but ye're a woman, and a man would never be able to fully read a woman's mind or ken her heart."

Bridget nodded at the irony spilling from Ewan's lips. She felt some relief knowing that he didn't have a clue about what was coming, but at the same time, she knew that it would be far easier on her if he knew what she wanted.

"Would you say we know each other well?" Bridget asked, then held her breath in anticipation of his answer.

"Aye, suppose as well as strangers can ken each other," Ewan answered, his voice a bit hesitant as Bridget inched closer to him.

"Do you suppose that we know each other well enough to ask for favors?"

Ewan pursed his lips and set his glass firmly on the table. He glared at Bridget, but the questions burning in his eyes gave her enough confidence to continue. It wasn't as though he had pushed her away, but the anticipation of being rejected was a nagging sensation she couldn't get rid of.

"Well, that depends on the kind of favor ye're askin' for," Ewan said. "I dinnae think I ken ye well enough to fight a war for ye. So, if ye're thinkin' of askin' me clan to face the English on the battlefield, ye got another thin' comin'. We've neither the men nor the resources for such an attack."

Bridget shook her head and batted her eyelashes again as she gravitated closer to him. She couldn't believe what she was about to ask, let alone what she was attempting to do. Swallowing hard, she mustered all the courage that she could to finally get the words off the tip of her tongue.

"I know the Viscount is here," Bridget explained as she kept her eyes on Ewan. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest as her body tingled with excitement. "I am asking you to ruin me."

With the request now out in the open, all Bridget could do was wait. Ewan's eyes widened with shock before he quickly composed himself. He shook his head as his jaw flexed.

"Ye do not ken what ye're askin' for," he said as he curled his fingers around her shoulders and pinned her to the spot.

"Oh, but I do," Bridget said, her voice cracking with emotion. "I want to do it so that no one will want me. I want the rumors to be so thick and vile that my parents will have no choice but to put me in a convent to live out my days. Don't you see? It's the best solution. It's the only solution."

"Ye cannae be serious. Ye want to spend the night with me just to cause a scandal? What sort of man do ye take me for? Ye think ye can just throw yerself at me and nae care about the way I'll look?"

Bridget listened to him. It never once dawned on her that he would think soberly about himself when, in fact, she found him to be one of the finest specimens she had ever come across. Quickly stepping forward, she cupped his face in her hands, determined to make him look at her.

"No," Bridget said with as much compassion in her voice as she could muster. "Because no one has looked at me the way you do. You cannot hide your desire. I see it burning in your eyes even now and growing fiercer every second I hold you."

Ewan's shoulders drooped as he gently placed his hand on hers. The air thinned around her as she tried to keep her head from fogging up. But it was no use, and as Ewan leaned in closer, she found the world around her fading away.

"Why must ye tempt me so?" Ewan mumbled as Bridget slowly slipped the tips of her fingers under the leather mask.

Panic flashed in Ewan's eyes, but he did not stop her. She wasn't repulsed by the silver scar running from his brow to his chin. To her it just made him look rugged and stirred desires within her that she didn't even know she possessed.

"Take me," she whispered.

A deep groan escaped Ewan. It sounded as if it started from the depths of his being and rumbled out like a lion conquering its territory. Bridget gasped as his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her to him. He moved with ease and laid her on the cushions of the plush sofa.

Bridget didn't care that they were in the middle of the library, nor did she care about getting caught. All she cared about was Ewan as he dug hungrily through the layers of her skirt, pushed them over her knees, and disappeared underneath.

"What are you…" Bridget started as Ewan lowered his head between her inner thighs.

She could feel his hot breath on her skin causing little bumps to rise all over her flesh. Digging her nails into the fabric of the sofa, Bridget threw her head back and eased into the pleasure that Ewan's tongue provided. She didn't know if the pleasure came from not knowing what he was going to do next or from the fact that she had expected him to reject her, not pleasure her.

"Is that too much?" Ewan asked as he gulped down air. His voice was muffled due to the layers of fabric covering his head, but it wasn't as though Bridget could answer. She was far too lost in the pleasure. His skilled fingers navigated the insides of her body, pressing on points that made her writhe and squirm in ecstasy.

"What are you doing to me?" she gasped as his fingers pumped ever deeper into her body. The sensation only caused her to want more of him.

"Ye cannae tell me ye're nae enjoyin' this." Ewan's teeth grazed the tender nub between her folds as he spoke.

Quivering with excitement, Bridget tried her best not to fall off the sofa as Ewan's tongue lapped at her sex.

"But I want more," she mumbled as her nails dug into the fabric of the sofa.

"I ken," he uttered as his fingers took the place of his tongue. "Believe me when I say this will be enough."

Bridget couldn't deny that fact as her body reacted to his touch. Her breaths became quicker and more violent as her ecstasy mounted. She closed her eyes and let her body slip into the void that Ewan had created for her.

"That's my girl," Bridget thought she heard him mumble, but his voice seemed far away and didn't carry over the ringing in her ears.

It felt as if she had stepped out of her body and was experiencing the cosmos. When she finally managed to open her eyes, Bridget found Ewan kneeling at her side with a silly grin on his face.

"Can I stay with you?" Bridget asked, as she found herself too weak to move.

Ewan brushed aside the loose strands of hair covering her face.

"I cannae allow it," he mumbled. "Ye shouldnae even be willin' to ask that."

"I know, but it's what I want," Bridget said as her body slipped into a peacefulness she had never felt before.

"Hush now," he said as she found it difficult to keep her eyes open.

She had not known when Ewan had scooped her up from the sofa and carried her to his room. All she knew was that when she woke up next to him in the dead of night, nothing would ever be the same.