Chapter 3

3

T urning his collar to the cold, Ewan pounded on the hard wooden door until pins and needles pricked the side of his hand.

"Wake up, will ye," he grumbled and pounded on the door once more.

Leaning closer, he could hear some sort of commotion inside the small shack. Why his cousin refused to stay closer to the castle irked him more than he'd liked to admit. The fact that she was the only healer within a hundred miles didn't help matters either.

"Hold yer horses, I'll get to ye when I get to ye," came the muffled reply.

Ewan stepped back and tapped his foot impatiently on the steps. Despite sleep gnawing at him, he remained alert. He wasn't about to rest when there was an Englishwoman under his roof.

"Oi, can ye nae read?" Ava asked the moment she opened the door. "The sign says we're closed."

"I've found meself a bride," Ewan blurted out.

Ava tilted her head and arched an eyebrow. Folding her arms across her chest, she narrowed her eyes at him.

"Aye? Good for ye—send me an invitation. It's late, and we're closed," Ava said, before backing away and trying to shut the door.

He lifted a hand to stop the door from closing completely.

"Nae for me," Ewan said, slightly leaning against the door to keep his cousin from closing it in his face again. "I found one in the woods nae too long ago. She's in the cellar at the moment. Well…"

He glanced over his shoulder, stealing a glimpse of the castle barely a stone's throw away. The fact he had left the girl in the cellar didn't necessarily mean she was still there. He hoped she'd stayed put, but there was no way to know for sure until he got back.

"That so? Are ye sure ye havenae been hittin' the bottle a bit too hard? There's been a few men comin' to me, sayin' how they've been seein' things after a few pints at the pub," Ava asked as she pulled back the door. "I'm thinkin' ole Donald is splicin' his wares again. But what do I ken? I'm just a woman."

"Are ye finished?" Ewan asked. "Because I could use yer help. Or am I to trudge to the next town to find a healer who kens what they're doin'?"

"Do ye want me to help ye or nae?" she grumbled as she reached for her cloak and fastened it around her shoulders.

"Depends, do ye want the coin or nae?" he countered, and before she could retort, he turned on his heels and marched back to the castle.

The rain had let up some, but it made no difference. Ewan was already soaked to the bone. He was done with the day, and the fact that he had to deal with the Englishwoman was just one more thing to get under his skin. Approaching the castle, Ewan glanced over his shoulder. A smile played on the corners of his lips as he caught sight of his cousin battling against the wind.

"If ye had a room here," Ewan called to her, only to watch as she stuck her tongue out at him.

He didn't wait for her to catch up. He opened the door and stepped out of the rain and into the corridor. The moment he closed the door, a hush fell over him. While the rain and wind blew and raged on the outside, there wasn't even a hint of it behind the stone walls of his castle.

"Now I ken why ye're nae married," Ava said as she entered and closed the door behind her.

Ignoring his cousin's jab, Ewan made his way down the corridor. Muffled voices drifted to his ears, and panic shot through him. Had someone been awake and heard him bring her in?

With his heart rate quickening in anticipation, Ewan turned into the room. He let out the breath he had been holding.

"Ye're still here."

Ewan eyed her for a moment, baffled by her conviction to stay. Was it courage or terror that kept her in the room? As Ewan mulled over this little conundrum, he leaned against the wall and eyed his English captive.

"And you came back, just like you said you would."

"The healer's right behind me, she'll have a look at ye," he said, folding his arms across his chest.

His heart skipped a beat. There was no doubt the girl needed a bath. She was covered from head to foot in grime and muck. The dress she had on was nothing but rags.

"Now, do ye mind tellin' me what ye're doin' on me lands?"

The panic shooting through Bridget's face made Ewan want to laugh. He pressed his lips together and remained still and silent.

"Your lands? Your… Oh my…" Bridget gasped and cupped her hands over her cheeks to hide her sudden flush of embarrassment. "You're the Laird? I'm so terribly sorry for all the trouble. This is just… Oh… I'm so sorry."

"Enough," Ewan said, lifting a hand to silence her. He was in no mood to hear her apology. "Just answer me questions, and ye can be on yer way. Who are ye, and why have ye come here? The island isnae a place people come to, unless they ken where they're goin'. But seein' as how our paths have never crossed, I dinnae think ye're where ye're supposed to be."

Bridget pulled in a long, deep breath and closed her eyes. Ewan glanced over his shoulder just as Ava leaned against the doorframe.

"My name, as you know, is Bridget Alton, and I've come to pay your sister, Nora, a visit," Bridget said with a huge smile that reminded Ewan of someone rather fond of themselves. "I've traveled a great distance to meet with her. She knows me through a common acquaintance, Evelyn. They met last year, but I digress. I came here hoping to have a few words with her, but then the children stole my luggage and all my coin—I ran after them but lost them in the woods. That's when I met you."

"I told ye, there's nay one here by that name," Ewan said as he flexed his jaw. "As for the thieves, ye'll be givin' a testimony tomorrow to me men. They'll track down yer stuff."

"You're… not going to hurt the children when you find them, are you? I really don't want anyone to get into trouble. They're just children. Maybe they needed it more than me?"

Ewan's face hardened. "Please tell me ye're nae that naive? Did ye nae see the village? They want for nothin', they need nothin'. The children were most likely pullin' a prank on ye. Ye'll talk to the guards tomorrow and have it all sorted out."

"Of course they would, and why not? It's not like I've just had the worst day of my life. But who's keeping tally?" Bridget said, glancing at Ewan.

For a moment, he didn't know how to respond, or whether he was supposed to say anything. To him, the question seemed rhetorical. Could he blame the lass for wanting to take out her frustrations?

"This is Ava, me cousin," Ewan said as he stepped aside to allow Ava to come forward. "She'll have a look at yer foot, make sure ye're as right as rain."

"Let's have a look and see, shall we?" Ava said as she stepped up to Bridget. "Where does it hurt?"

"The ankle," Bridget answered as Ewan caught her stealing glances at him.

Why she was so fascinated by him annoyed him to no end. It was as if she was trying to uncover secrets he didn't know he had. Her direct gaze irked him as he fretted in the corner of the cellar.

"Does it hurt when I do this?" Ava asked as she eased the ankle back. Instantly, Bridget winced in pain.

"Can ye fix her and get her on her way?" Ewan asked, his voice clipped and urgent. The sooner he got the Englishwoman off his lands, the better he'd feel.

"Aye, it'll be a few days, though. She'll nae be goin' anywhere wit' her ankle as sprained as it is," Ava answered.

"Ava, can you tell me if you know anyone by the name of Nora Thomson? You see, she's expecting me, and I can't be delayed much longer."

Ewan rolled his eyes, and Ava turned to him. "I told ye, lass. There's nay one on the island by that name."

"No, that's not right—that can't be right. I've traveled so far, and you're telling me you don't have any idea who Nora is?"

Air whizzed far too quickly through Bridget's lips and out her nose for her to get any of the benefits of breathing. With each inhale, she became more lightheaded and dizzy. It didn't take long before the room was spinning. Bridget held onto the edge of the table to keep herself from falling.

Ewan shrugged. "Dinnae ken what to tell ye, lass. Ye can ask anyone here. ‘Tis nae like I'm hidin' her from ye or anythin'. She is just nae here."

"But then…"

Bridget clamped her mouth shut. Despite Ava poking and prodding at her sprained ankle, she felt numb. She couldn't quite wrap her head around what was unfolding. She had followed the instructions to the letter, so either the Laird was playing a harsh joke on her, or she was… dare she say it, utterly lost.

"Forgive me," Bridget said, clasping her hand to her chest. "But… um." She paused and studied Ava for a moment.

The healer's brown braided hair reached her hips. Bridget had never seen a woman with hair so long before. Ava's fair complexion made her jealous.

"Would you mind telling me if this is, in fact, MacArthur lands?"

The sound of the healer's laughter bouncing off the cellar walls were arrows of unchecked mirth all aimed at Bridget. She wanted to cry, but she choked back her emotions. There was no way she was about to let them see her break.

"Oh, deary, I'm afraid ye're a long ways away if ye're lookin' for MacArthur lands. Ye're only goin' to find MacCartneys here," Ava said as she pulled a small pouch from her pocket.

"Oh? And how far, exactly?"

"A few days, at least—and that's if the weather holds. Ye'd think gettin' to another island would be easy, since ye can see them so close, ye ken? But it's the weather here ye have to keep an eye on. It'll change at the snap of a finger," Ava said as Bridget dared to steal another glimpse at Ewan. He had been so still and quiet that his presence was starting to unnerve her.

"Can this get any worse?" Bridget muttered under her breath. If it wasn't one thing, it was another, and it seemed as if she was never going to get to where she needed to be.

"Leave," Ewan snapped. His voice cut through the ensuing silence like a wooden broom snapping in two.

"But I've nae finished," Ava answered defiantly.

"Aye, ye have. Besides, ‘tis nae like the lass can go anywhere wit' her foot the way it is, aye?" Ewan said. "So, get out."

"I want me coin first."

"Fine," Ewan said, reaching into his sporran. He pulled out a few silver pieces and tossed them to her.

"This is too much," Ava said.

"For yer silence. Ye think I want word gettin' out that we've got an Englishwoman here? I dinnae think so. Now go and keep quiet," Ewan said harshly.

"I'm goin'," Ava mumbled as she took the coins and left.

Ava's quick departure disturbed Bridget. The whole mood in the room had suddenly deteriorated and caused the hair on the back of her neck to rise.

"Well, she was rather lovely," Bridget said, trying not to let the fear cause her voice to quake.

Ewan moved closer, as though trying to block all of her routes of escape. Of course, that wasn't a difficult task for someone of his height and width. He loomed over Bridget with a menacing glare.

"Who are ye runnin' from?" he asked.

"Beg your pardon? What makes you think I'm running from someone?" Bridget asked, trying to play coy.

He looked pointedly at her torn and soiled wedding dress. Bridget wanted to kick herself for not changing clothes at Evelyn's when she'd had the chance. Had she known then what she knew now, she would have spared those few extra moments for herself.

"I confess that I ran from my wedding. I'm sure you're going to think the worst about me, because women, of course, aren't permitted to make choices that do not align with Society's expectations, but I needed to be free. Can I remain here until I find a way to journey to my friend?" Bridget pleaded as she clasped her hands together in prayer. She knew it was a long shot to ask a stranger for help, but she had nowhere else to turn.

Ewan chewed contemplatively on his lower lip as his eyes bored into hers. Her heart was fluttering wildly, not from the anticipation of his answer but because he was looking directly at her, peering into her very soul. She couldn't help but feel giddy at his boldness.

"Ye can stay until ye're healed. But ye cannae tell anyone I allowed this. I'm nae in the mood to kill Englishmen these days."

"Kill?" Bridget swallowed hard.

In what manner of environment had she landed, where killing seemed a common occurrence? Suddenly, Bridget wasn't so certain she wanted to stay. She wondered if making her way to MacArthur lands was the wisest thing to do. She didn't want to be the cause of someone's untimely death.

Ewan's crooked grin did nothing to settle her nerves. She wasn't certain if he was toying with her, or if he meant every word. There really was no way for her to decipher his cold and emotionless expression. Bridget watched as he walked to the doorway before pausing and glancing over his shoulder.

"One week, lass. Then ye're leavin'. And, of course, we'll discuss what ye'll offer in return for me hospitality."