Chapter 6

6

T he instant Ewan's eyes landed on Bridget, his body went rigid and Logan's voice became distant. He couldn't believe how stunning she looked in the soft pastel blue dress—it was like she'd turned on the sun and lit up the room.

"Well now, what do we have here?" Logan asked, craning his neck. "Is that yer English friend?"

"Aye, it is."

Ewan's back went ramrod straight the moment he realized his aunt Martha was leading Bridget toward them. For a moment, Ewan felt as though he was five years old again, being confronted by his father. As Bridget weaved through the throngs of people, Ewan's eyes were fixed on her, and everyone else faded into the background.

"Well done, Braither. But can ye bag her?" Logan asked as he nudged Ewan's arm with his elbow.

"Dinnae be so crass," Ewan scolded under his breath as Martha stopped before him.

"Fine mornin', is it nae?" Martha asked as Ava flanked Bridget's other side.

To Ewan, it looked as though his family was presenting Bridget to him, silently endorsing and proposing a situation he wasn't yet prepared for.

"That it is, Auntie, that it is," he said, trying as hard as he could to pry his eyes off Bridget.

Yet, no matter how hard he tried, he remained mesmerized by her beauty. The pale dress made her alabaster skin appear ivory. However, it was the elegance of her graceful neck and the way her eyes and smile teased him that drew her into his tentative affection.

"Move along," Ava said with a wave of her hand.

Ewan blinked, and the world came back into focus. He looked about, befuddled that his mind had slipped away and had made his loins stir with eagerness and hope.

"We should probably sit down and have somethin' to eat before we all wither away," Angus said as he took Ava by the hand and moved around Ewan and Logan.

"Fair mornin' to you," Bridget said, with a proper curtsy that exposed more of her cleavage.

Ewan found himself wanting to dive into her and drown in the bliss that was her embrace.

The thought rattled him to the core. It was as if someone had slapped him across the face with a freshly caught cod fish. He wasn't supposed to be feeling anything for this lass, so why was something stirring within him? Surely it wasn't just her dress. Ewan had been to many gatherings where the women had worn far less than Bridget.

Taking a deep breath, his nose was filled with a floral fragrance that reminded him of the forest and wilderness. His heart skipped a beat as he stared at her, perplexed about how she'd managed to stop him in his tracks so easily.

"Is there something I can do for you, Laird MacCartney?" Bridget asked, her voice trembling.

Ewan didn't understand the sudden emotion in her tone. Was there something wrong? The more he lingered near her, the more he found himself wanting to get to know her better.

"Care to sit wit' me?" he asked.

Ewan ignored the shock and smirks he could see from the corner of his eye. He didn't care what other people thought—what mattered was that he needed information from her, and despite how distracting she was, he was going to get to the bottom of what made her flee.

"Hmmm," Bridget mumbled as she looked to Ava for approval. "Surely, if that is what you wish."

"Nothin' would please me more," Ewan said as he took her hand, guided her to the table, and eased her down into a chair. "I hope ye're hungry, we've got more than enough."

Bridget's eyes widened as she stared at the food before her. Ewan couldn't help but watch her intently. He found her fascinating to observe, like a beloved character he'd read about in a story long ago.

"Me Laird, ye should ken that the Hangers and Troots are refusin' to come this year for the gatherin'. Just got the letter today," Logan said as he crowded Ewan.

How he wished his brother would go somewhere else and leave him be.

"Then I guess we shall have to go to them," Ewan said as he noticed Bridget carefully portioning out the food on her plate. "They are gettin' up in years, after all. Best see if they need any help. Maybe move them closer to the castle if they wish."

"Ye ken they willnae do that. Too stubborn that side of the family is," Logan said.

"Aye, but they're still kin," Ewan continued as he noticed Bridget's portion was not even half of what the others at the table were having. He wanted to ask her what was wrong. Perhaps she didn't like Scottish food.

As Logan continued to drone on about clan matters, Ewan's eyes remained fixed on Bridget. He watched her pick at the morsels until her plate was empty.

Without saying a word, Ewan reached over and piled more food on Bridget's plate. "Why nae take a few men to the northern point and check on the folks there? I ken they had a bad storm not too long ago. We need to ensure they're well. I'll nae have me people suffer."

"Aye, I'll send Jonathan over. He's got blood over there that might be able to talk some sense into them," Logan said.

"Would ye mind if Angus comes along?" Ava chimed in. "I need herbs from that side of the island."

"It's settled then," Logan said. "I'll finish up here and get the horses ready. Should only be a day trip, aye?"

"Shouldnae take too long," Ewan said as Bridget leaned back and let out a sigh of contentment. The smile that played on the corners of her lips teased him mercilessly.

Lean over and taste her smile.

Ewan sat straighter than before as the voice in his head whispered his desires. The whole situation was starting to ruffle him more than he would have liked. He refused to entertain any of these wild impulses. Although she looked stunning and he had become enchanted by her, it was for that very reason he knew he had to leave.

"What was that?" he asked, completely missing half of the conversation as he warred with himself.

"I was just tellin' Bridget how lovely she looks in that blue dress," Martha said with a gentle smile.

"That's very kind, but don't you think this is too bold?" Bridget asked. "Not that I'm not grateful, because I am. Lord knows wearing the other dress was far worse."

"I dinnae see anythin' wrong wit' the dress," Ewan said as he let his eyes roam freely over Bridget's body. She looked so pretty in the sunlight streaming through the large windows. "But if ye'd prefer somethin' else, why nae go into town and get a dress or two?"

"Forgive me," Bridget said, placing the napkin on her lap. "I don't have any money to buy a dress, let alone two of them."

"Did I say ye'll have to pay for them? Nay. I told ye to get two dresses, so go get them if that's what ye need. I dinnae want ye to be without while ye're a guest here. While I must admit me cousin does have an eye for fashion, I'd have to say I'd prefer something a bit more…appropriate."

Bridget's lower lip trembled for a moment before she managed to get herself under control. Despite her limited options, she'd tried to impress him but had been deemed inferior.

"Thank you, Laird MacCartney, that's very generous of you. I'll pay you back for your kindness once I return to England. I'm sure my family will be more than pleased to know that you cared for me in my time of need. That is, of course, if they haven't disowned me already. But I will honor your kindness and deliver on my promise."

"Will ye stop? I dinnae care about the details and how ye intend to pay me back. That's all fine and well. But it's my duty as a good, godly man to see to the distressed and the abandoned. I suppose ye do fall into that category, do ye nae? Although I am a wee bit curious as to what drove ye to run away from yer own weddin'."

"Ye didnae," Logan gasped, now more invested in the conversation.

Bridget glanced down at her hands in her lap and at Ewan several times. Each time she opened her mouth, no words would come out. Her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red that only made Ewan admire her beauty more.

"Oh, yes," she said, her voice shaky. "I did. And believe me, I'm wondering if it was the right thing to do."

"Why did ye leave?" Logan pressed. "I thought that was the dream of every young lass."

Bridget rolled her shoulders back and glared at Logan, yet her tone was as pleasant and sincere as Ewan had ever heard. "Forgive me if some of us want more than to just settle."

"Settle? Ye must have many suitors vyin' for yer attention then if ye can turn one down so casually," Ewan said.

"Hardly," Bridget said as she glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "It doesn't matter anymore. What's done is done, and there's no changing the past."

"I do believe nay truer words have ever been spoken," Ewan said, raising his glass in a toast. "To past regrets."

He kept his eyes locked on Bridget as she lifted her glass halfway without so much as drawing it to her lips. There was a sadness about her and a need growing within him to help her. Setting his napkin on his plate, Ewan rose and extended his hand to her.

"Come wit' me," he ordered.

Confused, Bridget rose from her seat. She kept glancing at the others to help her, but everyone in the room knew that no one would step up to aid the Sassenach . He'd have to be the one to show mercy if that was what she deserved.

"Where are we going?"

"Away from pryin' ears," Ewan answered as he stepped into his study and waited for Bridget to enter before closing the door behind her.

"I don't understand, have I done something wrong?"

"Nay, at least nae yet. But the day is young."

Bridget's eyes darted about the room. He watched as her eyes landed on the various titles lining his shelves and the paintings of his family members hanging above the fireplace.

"Who is that?" Bridget asked, pointing to the large portrait near the eastern window.

"Me faither," Ewan answered as he barely gave the image a second glance. "But he's nae the reason I called ye in here. Please, sit."

Bridget did as she was told and sat down in the chair next to his desk. She fiddled with the tips of her fingernails as she sat in silence.

"This is why I brought ye in here," Ewan said and reached behind his desk to pull out one of the trunks he'd reclaimed for her. Bridget's eyes lit up as she clapped her hand over her mouth to hide the shock on her face.

"But how? I thought… Oh, thank you," she said.

"Yer dresses are probably nae adequate for the rough Scottish weather, so I'd like for ye to still accept me offer and get yerself a good Scottish dress to wear while ye're here."

"I can't do that. Besides, these dresses suited me fine in England."

"Aye, but the weather's warmer down there, is it nae? And ye'll nae be arguin' wit' me about it. Understand?"

Bridget's smile was a beam of sunshine-laced joy. She lunged at him, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him toward her. For a lass of her stature, he had never expected her to be so strong.

"Aye, well," he mumbled as he pulled away. "Nae that I would mind me cousin lendin' her dresses to ye, I still think it'd be best if ye get one or two to call yer own."

Confusion flashed across her face as she shrugged. "I promise I will pay you back in full. Even if I have to become a governess or a scullery maid, I'll do anything to return the kindness you have bestowed upon me."

"I dinnae think ye'll be able to honor that promise," Ewan said, a hint of mischief in his tone.

He tilted his head, waiting and wondering if she'd picked up on the subtle hints he'd thrown at her.

The blush on her cheeks suggested she understood everything. For a moment, he allowed himself to hope that she'd surrender to his unspoken desires.

"Well…" She cleared her throat. "That depends on what you want from me," she said, lowering her head. She nibbled on her lower lip as she fiddled with her skirt.

"And how do ye ken what it is I want? Can ye read minds now?"

"No," Bridget answered. "But there is a look in your eyes that… that makes me feel as if you want to take my virtue."

"If ye were a lamb, I'd be a wolf," he said as he circled her.

"You don't frighten me."

"I didnae take ye for a fool," Ewan whispered in her ear.

The way her body reacted to his proximity thrilled him. He couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to have her quiver beneath him.

"If ye have any sense at all, ye would fear me."