Chapter 21

21

S unlight filtered through the open window and blanketed the room in a golden hue. Stretching the sleep from her bones, Bridget slowly took in the world around her. The emptiness of the room was jarring.

Pulling the blankets to her chest, she scanned the room while images from last night flashed before her eyes. A frown pulled down the corner of her mouth.

"Ewan?" she called, despite knowing the room was empty.

She had hoped he was within earshot, speaking to a guard just outside the door. But when silence greeted her call, her shoulders slumped in disappointment.

With no further reason to be in Ewan's room, Bridget climbed out of bed. She dressed swiftly, and while she hoped the servants hadn't yet come in, she knew that in order for her plan to succeed, she would need witnesses. Glancing at the door, she wondered if maybe someone had already come in, found her, and left without saying a word. The idea danced and skipped about her mind, causing her frown to flip and stretch into a small smile.

Mustering her confidence and courage, Bridget pulled the door open and stepped out into the hallway. A heavy-set man with shaggy hair gave her a once-over before flashing her a bashful, knowing smile.

Overwhelmed with excitement, Bridget calculated how long it would take till word started to spread. Back in England, gossip traveled swiftly and could easily make the rounds in a single day. But being on an island with far fewer people, she estimated by mid-afternoon the whole castle would be chattering about her and Ewan. The thought was simply delicious .

"There ye are," Ava snapped the moment she rounded the corner. "Been lookin' all over for ye."

There was an edge to her tone that rattled Bridget. "What's going on?"

"Best ye come wit' me and let me get a good look at that ankle of yers. It's still hurtin' ye, is it nae? Maybe so much so that ye'd want to stay a bit longer?" Ava said in a conspiratorial tone that caused Bridget's scalp to tingle.

"Ava? What is it that you're not telling me?" Bridget asked as Ava pulled her into the closest room and closed the door behind her.

"Sit," Ava ordered as she ushered Bridget to the small sofa in the drawing room.

Bridget glanced around. She hadn't spent much time in the drawing room. The portraits on the walls disturbed her. It was as if their eyes were following her no matter which way she went.

Settling into the cushion, Bridget arched an eyebrow and glared at Ava. "Alright, so are you going to tell me what is going on now?"

"The Viscount and your parents are here," Ava explained in a hushed tone.

Panic, terror, shock, pain—every negative emotion under the sun shot through Bridget, knocking her into the back of the sofa.

"What?" she gasped. "That's not possible. I mean, the Viscount… but my parents wouldn't dare come out here."

"Well, ye can ask them that yerself when they arrive," Ava said as she knelt beside Bridget and started examining her ankle.

"Do you know when they'll arrive at the castle?" Bridget asked, the words sticking to the roof of her mouth as she spoke.

Before Ava could answer, a trumpet blared in the courtyard. The loud sound reverberated through Bridget like an earthquake. Her eyes widened as she looked to Ava for reassurance. All she knew was that the world was starting to spin faster, and she had nothing to hold on to.

"Breathe," Ava said, showing her how to take long, deep breaths. "We dinnae need ye passin' out now, do we?"

"They're here," Bridget said through clenched teeth. "Can you stall them?"

"I can try, but I cannae promise ye anythin'," Ava said, giving Bridget a reassuring pat on the hand. "But as to yer ankle, it looks fine. Now, it'll be a bit tender when ye first try to walk. Ye've had the bandage protectin' ye, so it's goin' to feel a bit odd. Think ye can stand?"

"My word, what on earth is going on in here?" The shrill voice of Bridget's mother filled the room.

Bridget flinched as all the warmth left her body.

"Good morning, Mother," Bridget said as she turned slowly to face her.

Disappointment and disgust were etched on her mother's face. Ava rose slowly, dusting her hands off on her skirt.

"Well? Are you going to tell me what is going on here?"

"It was a small sprain," Ava tried to explain, only to have Augusta lift a hand to silence her.

"I do not believe I was talking to you," Augusta snapped.

"Ava, may I introduce my mother, Augusta Alton, the Countess of Abbey."

"A pleasure, I'm sure," Augusta said as she raised a judgmental eyebrow.

"Where is she? Where is my bride-to-be?" Paul's voice squawked down the hall like an injured seagull, grating on Bridget's nerves.

The moment he entered the room and his eyes fell on Bridget, he raced to her and threw his arms around her. "Oh, do forgive me. I was a fool, an idiot. Oh, Bridget, you have no idea how much I've missed you."

Bridget recoiled from his touch and stared at him in disbelief. The way he'd treated her before and the horrid things he'd said still echoed in the back of her mind.

"Out of all the hellish places…" Augusta said, pulling her fur-lined coat closer to her face. "Why on earth did you come here?"

"It was an accident," Bridget tried to explain as Paul urged her to sit back down. The way he doted on her made her skin crawl.

She slipped off the sofa and away from Paul. Bridget wished she could bathe right then and there, or be roasted over an open fire just to forget the feel of his hands on her skin.

"I suppose your running away from the wedding was an accident as well?" Augusta asked as Bridget watched her father stumble into the room. Augusta shot to his side in a flash. "Your poor father's been dealing with sea sickness for weeks now, looking for you," she grumbled as she spread the guilt on thickly.

"Perhaps a good meal will do the trick," Ava chimed in. "I'll go tell the cook to prepare extra food."

"Don't you dare," Bridget hissed, warning Ava not to leave her alone with her parents and especially not with Paul.

Ava flashed Bridget an apologetic smile before slipping her arm out of Bridget's grasp. Bridget's heart pounded violently against her ribs as she watched Ava leave the room.

"You have a lot of explaining to do, young lady," Augusta snapped the moment they were alone. "Do you have any idea the sort of scandal you caused?"

"I thought we'd agreed not to attack her," Paul said.

The audacity made Bridget's blood boil.

"You have no right to be here," she said. "Or do you think me so ignorant that I would forget the reason why I fled?"

Paul dropped his shoulders and let out a mournful sigh. "I know the part I played. It was my fault that you fled. I understand you must have heard…an unfortunate conversation between me and my friend. That's the only explanation. And I want you to know I would have left too if I heard you speaking so ill of me. What can I say? I was intoxicated and foolish."

Bridget's eyes narrowed as Paul came to her. She watched as he got down on one knee and took her hand. The fact that he was making such a spectacle irked her, especially when he had never made such an effort when he first proposed. Her stomach twisted into knots. Movement caught her eye, making her head snap up.

"Dinner is served in the Great Hall," Ewan announced, his voice husky with a tinge of pain.

Bridget instantly jerked her hand away from Paul as guilt and embarrassment flooded her.

"Laird MacCartney, may I introduce you to my parents. This is Jonathan Alton, the Earl of Abbey, and Augusta Alton, the Countess of Abbey. And this is Paul St. Vincent, the Viscount Wrottesley… my fiancé."

Bridget waited for Ewan to say something, do anything other than stare at her with distress. Images of last night flickered through her mind as she stared at him. She recalled the way she'd felt as he pressed against her and how safe he'd made her feel. Now it all seemed to be nothing more than a dream.

"Well, I must say, that was fast," Jonathan mumbled as Augusta dragged him out of the room.

Paul rose and straightened his vest. For a moment, Bridget couldn't help but notice the way Ewan and Paul sized each other up. It was as if they were trying to figure out which man would come out as the victor should swords be drawn. Although Bridget knew Paul to be quick with a blade, she undoubtedly believed that Ewan was by far the superior warrior.

"Laird MacCartney, I want to thank you kindly for taking such care of my betrothed," Paul said as he passed him. "You've protected her, and I will be forever grateful to you for that."

Ewan didn't say a word, but the anger blazing in his eyes spoke volumes. Bridget moved carefully. Ava wasn't joking when she said the pain would be there. Her ankle throbbed with each step she took. Without saying a word, Ewan's arm curled around her waist. Bridget gasped and shook her head.

"You can't do that," she whispered and gently pushed his arm away.

"Ye need help, do ye nae? And I dinnae see yer fiancé helpin' at all," Ewan grumbled. "What sort of man dinnae help the weak?"

Bridget didn't know how to answer. She knew Paul was a spineless oaf even before he agreed to marry her. He wasn't her first option, but then again, she understood her place in London Society all too well.

As she took her place next to Ava and Martha at the table, she hadn't realized just how hungry she was. After a short prayer, Bridget reached for the food and filled her plate.

"The Viscount might change his mind if you overindulge," Augusta said before taking a sip of her wine.

Bridget dropped the serving spoon and eased into her chair. Heat bloomed on her face as she stared at the food on her plate. Shame and guilt rippled through her as she pushed aside the potatoes without a word.

"Of course, Mother," she answered without taking her eyes off her plate.

"I must say," Paul chimed in with an awkward grin, "I am looking forward to finally being married to you. It will be a dream come true."

"If she'll have ye," Ewan added. His tone was clipped and deadly, pulling Bridget's attention off her plate. She turned to him, stunned he would even suggest such a thing.

"Well, we are leaving for England tomorrow," Paul said as if he didn't even hear him speak. "Should be able to get everything sorted and back on track in a few days. What do you say we have the wedding indoors this time?"

Bridget's ears perked up as she heard Ewan's voice, but she couldn't make out the words. Daring to glance at him, she found him brooding more intensely than she'd ever seen before. The anger in his eyes warned everyone in the room not to cross him.

"I think that would be a lovely idea," Augusta answered as she cringed at the bland food and quickly pushed her plate away. "The sooner we can get back home, the better."

"Ye're nae goin' anywhere," Ewan snapped as he rose from the table, his eyes boring into Paul's as if he intended to murder him.

"Ewan," Bridget whispered in a rush of embarrassment.

"Ye heard me," he replied. "There's a storm comin'. I'll nae risk yer lives on the open water."

"Nonsense," Augusta huffed, as if staying here was out of the question. "We've weathered a storm or two."

"I dinnae think ye heard me," Ewan said over his shoulder as he started for the window. "Ye're stayin' until the snow melts."

"Snow, is it? This time of year? Now I know you're being ridiculous," Augusta gasped, clearly appalled by the thought.

"Am I? See for yerself," Ewan said. "I ken it in me bones. A true Scot foretells these things."

Bridget craned her neck to look around Paul. Her gaze wasn't fixed on the white flecks falling to the ground but on Ewan. She couldn't help but wonder if he somehow had God's ear and had prayed for snow.

"It would seem we are to stay a bit longer," Bridget said, unable to hide the glee from her tone.

"The sea isnae so forgivin'," Ewan said, his tone a bit lighter than before as he turned to Bridget. "Ye attempt to go out when she's in a temper and ye can kiss yer life goodbye. Seen it happen to too many good men. Foolish men, but good ones."

"This is kidnapping," Augusta said, flustered by the fact she wasn't going anywhere.

"Call it what ye will, but I'll nae have yer blood on me hands," Ewan said with a note of finality.

He rolled his shoulders back, and Bridget watched as an icy layer covered the warmth of his gaze.

"Now, if ye'll excuse me, I need to see to gettin' the castle secure. There's nay tellin' what sort of storm will hit the island," Ewan said as he made a beeline for the door.

Bridget glanced at her family and then at Paul. In a flash, she realized she had no reason to stay in their company. Jumping to her feet, she followed Ewan out of the Great Hall, much to her parents' obvious disapproval.

"Ewan, please," she pleaded as she tried to catch up to him.

"Are ye nae supposed to be toastin' to yer engagement or somethin' to that effect?"

"About last night…"

"Ye neednae say anythin'," Ewan said over his shoulder. "I understood what it was ye wanted from me. To be honest, I shouldnae have caved. It was my mistake, understand? Ye put the blame on me."

"What are you saying?" Bridget managed to get out, despite the painful throbbing of her heart.

"Ye ken very well what I'm tellin' ye—it's the same thin' I've been tryin' to get through yer head since ye… I'm nae right for ye. Go be wit' the pompous Viscount. He seems like a decent match. Yer children will be lovely. And I wish ye the best."

"You don't mean that," Bridget said, fighting the tears. Ewan's shoulders dropped in defeat. "I know you don't."

"Aye, I mean it," he answered as he arched an eyebrow.

"Then did you want an invitation? After all, I'm sure after your generous hospitality, you'd want to be a part of such a joyous occasion," Bridget said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Enough, I'll nae listen to this another minute longer," Ewan said as he grabbed her by the arm.

"Then go," Bridget said, glaring at him.

Their anger suddenly turned into passion that engulfed his senses. Bridget could see him on the edge of a cliff, and just one more word would send him crashing to his doom.

A wicked smile tugged at her lips. "But know I will be gone as soon as that snow is gone."

"Nay, ye're mine," Ewan growled, pulling her to him.

She didn't resist but stepped into him until she pressed as much of her body against him as she could.

"But I'm not, you made that clear. I'll be the Viscount's wife soon, and there won't be a thing you can do about it."