Chapter 4

4

E wan stared at the arched ceiling of his bedchambers, watching the early morning light caress the beams. It was a view he was all too familiar with, especially when troubling thoughts prohibited him from sleeping all night. He repeatedly contemplated his earlier conversations with the Sassenach . No matter what he did, he couldn't stop thinking about her.

A smile played on his lips at the recollection of finding her in the darkness of the woods and how bravely she'd stood against the darkness. He'd known far too many people who'd stumbled through those same woods late at night, only to become too terrified to traverse them again. Perhaps it was the tattered dress that clung to her that he found so appealing. Although the grimy color and beggar look didn't do her justice, he could see through all that to her disguised natural beauty.

He pulled in a long, deep breath and let it out slowly as his loins began to stir. How he wanted to tear her dress off her body and cloak her in the finest fabric the island could produce. He ran his fingers through his hair and stopped the moment his fingertips brushed against the rugged lumps of leather. The mask he wore was a constant reminder of just how isolated he was from the rest of the world.

Who am I foolin'? She'll only ever see me as a monster. And why would she see me any differently? I am exactly what everyone thinks I am, and oh how I revel in the role.

A hard knock on the door snapped Ewan out of his darkening thoughts. Jumping out of the bed, he grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his battered body.

"Enter."

"Ye're up, good," Logan said as he stormed over to the window and threw back the curtains. The sunlight poured into the room, scattering the shadows to the farthest corners. "We've had a breach."

Ewan pinched the bridge of his nose as he moved over to the side chair and sat into it. The lack of sleep suddenly overwhelmed him, threatening to ruin his day. Rolling his shoulders back, he blinked the sleep from his eyes and focused on Logan.

"What are ye goin' on about?" Ewan asked, uncertain if he wanted another security update when he knew as well as anyone living on the island that travel was dangerous, the sea was rough, and fishing was good.

"A maid mentioned she came across someone in one of the rooms," Logan said.

Panic shot through Ewan. He jumped up, his eyes wide, and charged toward Logan.

"Where'd ye put the lass?" he asked, unable to control the anger in his voice.

A smile stretched across his brother's lips as a light sparkled in his eyes. "I never mentioned it was a lass. I kenned it. Ye finally hired yerself a whore, and ye dinnae want anyone to ken about it. Am I right?"

Ewan dropped his hands and shook his head. "I'd never force a woman into me bed. And mind yer tongue when ye're speakin' about her."

Logan sobered up. "Apologies. I just assumed…"

"Yer job isnae to assume," Ewan growled.

"Fine. Just so ye're aware, the lass is still in the room. I informed the maid nae to say anythin'."

"Which means the whole castle will be abuzz about her," Ewan said.

"Please tell me ye at least ken her name?" Logan asked as Ewan pulled his boots on.

"Her name is Bridget, and the sooner she heals, the sooner we can get her back to England."

"Wait, she's English?" Logan gasped. "Ye let an Englishwoman into the castle? Have ye lost yer mind, Braither? Do ye ken what that will do to us if the English find her here?"

Ewan gave a vigorous nod. The history between his island and England was a sour one. His family had defended their speck of land since they'd landed on it hundreds of years ago. When gossip about an Englishwoman staying in one of the rooms in MacCartney Castle made its way through the township, there wasn't much Ewan could do to subdue the rumors.

"Ye need to find out why she is here, and when she plans to leave," Logan said.

"Already aware of such things," Ewan answered as he buckled his sword to his waist. "Seems she's thought this was MacArthur lands."

"Ye're jestin' wit' me, that's what this is. Today ye suddenly decided to acquire a sense of humor—that's what's goin' on here, right?" Logan asked, his voice high-pitched with worry. "MacArthur lands. Why would anyone want to go to that dreary place? Suppose it's a good thin' then she landed where she did, nay? Still, she's?—"

"English. Aye. I ken," Ewan bemoaned as images of Bridget bombarded his thoughts.

Seeing her piercing blue eyes in his mind's eye irked him more than it should have. It wasn't that Bridget wasn't pretty—she was. She was one of the bonniest lasses he'd ever laid eyes on. Even with her hair a mess and her dress so disheveled, he couldn't ignore her natural beauty.

"Why havenae ye sent her off then?" Logan asked.

"Found her in the woods. She'd twisted her ankle."

"And ye took her to see Ava, did ye nae? And what did our dearest cousin think of ye bringin' an Englishwoman into the castle?" Logan asked as he moved to the window and peered out.

"I paid her for her silence," Ewan answered.

"And where are ye goin'? Ye look like a man on a mission," Logan said.

"Cause I am," Ewan answered as he glanced around the room, double-checking that he had everything he needed. The last thing he wanted to do was to get to the stables and forget his sporran or dirk.

"That so? And just what are ye plannin' on doin'? Do ye want any help?" Logan offered.

"Nay, manage the council for me," Ewan answered. "There's a few things I've got to tend to."

Out of the corner of his eye, Ewan noticed the smirk on Logan's lips. Ignoring his brother, Ewan made his way to the door.

"Ye ken I hate doin' that," Logan grumbled.

"Just as I do, but we need to ken what's goin' on on the island."

"Then why dinnae ye stay here, and I'll go run the errand. Or is that just an excuse to go visit yer lass?"

"She's nae me lass," Ewan snapped, despite wishing with all his being that she was. But entertaining such a thought would only hurt him later. For now, he was content having her under his roof. "And ye best get goin', the meetin' starts at six."

"Before breakfast? What kind of meetin' is that? Surely ye can postpone it? Agatha's makin' biscuits, and ye ken how fast those go," Logan said. "The meetin' will run well past breakfast."

"I'll have her make ye some and bring it to yer room. Will that cheer ye up?" Ewan asked as he glanced over his shoulder at the door. He'd heard it creak and was ready to slap his mask onto his face to hide his scar.

"Maybe, or maybe a few hours wit' that bonnie English lass," Logan said, much to Ewan's annoyance as the maid stepped into the room.

The girl bobbed a swift curtsy before scanning the room. Ewan gave a warning shake of his head, causing the maid to turn around and leave. Only when she was gone and no itching ears could hear did Ewan continue.

"While I'm gone, ye're nae to say one word to her, do ye understand?"

"Are ye givin' me the order as me laird or as me braither?" Logan asked.

"Both," Ewan answered. "The lass is hurt, the least we can do is give her a place to heal and then send her on her way."

"Do me ears deceive me? Is that compassion I'm hearin' from ye?" Logan gasped in mock horror.

"Are ye finished?" Ewan asked, feeling even more irritated than before.

He knew there would be no way to ease his nerves until he saw her again. It was Bridget's mere presence that was causing so much turmoil within him. A large part of him was simply not prepared to send her off just yet. That same part of him longed for the elusive special connection that he saw others have and wanted more than anything in the world.

"Aye, I'm done," Logan grumbled as he moved to the door with him. "I still dinnae see why I cannae have some fun with the lass?"

"Leave her be. I'll be back in the castle in a bit. I dinnae ken how long this errand will take me."

"Go, and I'll see ye at breakfast if there's any food left after the meetin'," Logan said as they moved swiftly down the hall to the foyer.

Ewan gave a parting nod before making a beeline for the door. The sun bore down on him the moment he stepped out into the fresh air.

The day was no older than an hour before he caught sight of four young lads trudging out of the woods. Ewan's eyes narrowed as he recalled Bridget's story and how her things had been stolen.

Without hesitation, he followed the groups of boys, watching them from the shadows until he pinpointed the one he suspected of being in charge. The boy couldn't have been more than thirteen, but Ewan wasn't about to let him get away with sowing chaos on the island.

Following the boy home, Ewan waited until he heard the adults in the house and started pounding on the door.

"What on earth?" a woman gasped as the door cracked.

Ewan arched an eyebrow and stared Molly Addline down.

"Me Laird? What are ye doin' at me doorstep?"

"May I enter?" Ewan asked. He didn't have to crane his neck to see over the woman's head and glare daggers at the boy.

"Aye, of course," Molly answered, opening the door wide.

Ewan could see the shock on their faces as he entered. He had to duck to get into the thatched-roof dwelling. It was a small hovel with a single door off to the right and narrow stairs leading to the loft.

"And what is it we can do for ye?"

"Ye can hand over the trunks and coin yer son stole from the Englishwoman last night."

Horror flickered across Molly's face as her husband stepped forward. "We ken of nay such thin'. There's nay reason for me son to steal. Ye provide everythin' we need."

"Then it was a prank, was it nae? See, I can understand a good prank. Me braither and I often played them on one another when we were lads," Ewan said as he kept his tone even and his eyes locked on the boy.

"The woman was English," the boy chimed in.

"And that gives ye the right to harass her, is that it? How'd ye feel if ye go to a foreign land, nae knowin' anyone, and then at the first sign of kindness, ye're betrayed? How'd ye think she's feelin' now? Or would ye like me to ship ye off to England and drop ye off in the middle of nowhere so ye have yer things stolen?"

"Ye'd never send anyone to England," the boy insisted. "Ye're far too kind to do that."

"Aye, and dinnae ye forget it," Ewan said. "Now, hand over her things, and we'll call it a prank and nothin' more. If ye dinnae do it, I'm goin' to pick ye up right now and throw ye in the stocks."

"We dinnae have anything ye're lookin' for," Molly insisted as she dropped to Ewan's feet.

He grabbed her by the shoulders, dragging her back to her feet.

"Then if ye dinnae care about yer life, perhaps ye'd care if I threw yer maither and faither into the dungeons?" Ewan said, his tone remaining even and steady as he waited for the boy to make the choice that would decide his family's fate.

"Ye'll find her trunk in the woods off the old post a quarter mile away," the boy mumbled only after his father raised his hand, threatening to strike him.

"Now, was that so hard?" Ewan asked. "And ye can tell yer friends that if I catch any of ye stealin' from anyone, I'll nae be so lenient the next time. Yer maither or faither will be the ones to pay for yer mistakes next time. Understand?"