Chapter 8

8

" W here are you taking me?" Bridget asked as her grip on Ewan's arm tightened.

A mischievous, little grin spread across his face. He adored the fact that she was so close to him. The warmth of her body seeped through his shirt and made his skin tingle, but her hand on his arm taunted him the most. From those brief moments that he savored, he was reminded that he was a man with needs.

"Does it matter?" he asked.

"I have every right to know whether or not I am being kidnapped," Bridget said, her voice pitching in a playful note.

Ewan couldn't help but smile. "And what could ye possibly do to someone like me?" he asked, amused. "I could throw ye over me shoulder wit' ease, and there wouldnae be a thin' ye could do about it."

"Don't underestimate me, Sir. I can be quite resourceful when I need to be."

"Never said ye werenae. And seein' how ye're so resourceful, why dinnae ye tell me where we're goin'?"

"That's not fair," Bridget said, swatting his arm. "You have an unfair advantage. You know this island like the back of your hand, whereas I don't even know what sort of bird that is."

Ewan glanced to the left but caught only a glimpse of the bird that had caught Bridget's eye.

"Describe it to me," Ewan said, radiating confidence. He could feel curiosity flowing from Bridget, as if she were the moon pulling the tide.

"Why does it matter what bird I saw?" she asked, her voice as light as ever, laced with a hint of confusion.

Ewan couldn't believe how easy it was for him to read Bridget. It was as if she were a book for him to explore and enjoy despite knowing the outcome.

"It doesnae," he answered. "I just ken it to be best to make small talk. It puts people at ease. Silence has a way of gettin' into people's heads, and I need ye to be as honest wit' me as possible."

"Well, does that mean you're going to tell me where you're taking me?"

"'Tis nae much farther," he answered as he pointed to the side.

Bridget shifted in front of him and craned her neck. Peering through the trees, he spotted the shimmering icy blue water.

"How fascinating," Bridget said as her grip on him tightened.

Ewan wished he was standing before her so he could witness her reaction to seeing the loch. It was, after all, one of his favorite places in the world.

"Aye, and what is that?" Ewan asked.

"There's a loch here, on the island," Bridget said with such glee that it tickled Ewan's ears.

For just a moment, he wondered what it would have been like to bring Bridget to this place under different circumstances.

"Did ye think we drank the sea water?"

"No, of course not," Bridget answered as Ewan paused at the top of the ridge to gaze at the marvel before them.

The valley opened up before them like a lover. Tall pine trees stretched high to the azure sky and dipped into the bowl of the mountains, where the shimmering waters greeted them.

"This is beautiful," Bridget whispered.

"Aye, that it is."

"But why here? Why not just take me back to the castle?"

"Too many itchin' ears and pryin' eyes," Ewan answered in a sharper tone than he'd intended.

The last thing he wanted to do was push her away, especially when she felt so wonderful in his arms, but he knew the moment they stood face-to-face, she'd be the one to recoil.

"Do you not trust the people in your own home?" Bridget asked, her voice tinged with worry.

It surprised Ewan to hear it coming from her when he knew he repulsed her.

"I dinnae trust anyone," he answered plainly. "Especially strangers, nay matter how attractive they may be."

Ewan pulled on the reins, stopping his horse at the bank of the loch. His attention shifted to the sky. He knew as well as anyone how quickly the weather turned on the island, and all he could do was hope that it remained pleasant.

"This is lovely," Bridget said as Ewan helped her dismount the horse. Then, he swiftly led the horse over to the water's edge to let him drink.

"Ye speak as if ye've never seen the ocean before. ‘Tis the same water ye see in the channel. Nothin' special other than it's a wee bit colder than yer English hide could handle," Ewan said, shifting his attention from the horse to Bridget.

Confusion flashed across her face as she took a step back. "I don't think I like your tone. Just what exactly are you implying, Sir?" she asked. Her voice was tinged with hurt and a pinch of bitterness.

"I find it a bit odd that an Englishwoman has come to Scotland without an escort. That tells me either ye've been lyin' to me about who you are, or ye've been truthful and I'm goin' to have a garrison of Englishmen breathin' down me neck. So which one is it?"

"I swear to you," Bridget said, her eyes widening with panic. "My name is Bridget Alton. My father is the Earl of Abbey. I don't know how many times I must explain this to you."

"I'm nae lookin' for an explanation. I'm thinkin' about who might be comin' to look for ye and what sort of trouble ye'll be puttin' me clan into. I dinnae have the manpower to go up against the English and all their might. I'm but one man in one clan, and I'll nae be fightin' yer battles when I've got me own to worry about."

Bridget shook her head as she stumbled away from him. He reached for her before the tip of her shoe caught in the root and she sprained her other ankle.

A wicked grin spread across Ewan's face as he thought about keeping her for a few more weeks. After all, it wouldn't be kidnapping if she stayed willingly, and the English couldn't begrudge him for tending to one of their own.

"For whatever it's worth, I give you my word, I bring no trouble. I was merely on my way to a friend's home and ended up getting off at the wrong harbor. It was an honest mistake."

Ewan looked at her a moment, his eyes boring into hers as if he could read the very secrets of her soul. There was no doubt in his mind that he made her uncomfortable. He could see the fear brewing behind her green eyes.

"I believe ye," he muttered after a long pause.

Bridget's lips curled at the corners until a pleasant and welcoming smile once again lit up her face.

"Now that the air between us is cleared," she said, turning to face the water, "I think I'd like to enjoy myself for a while. It's not every day that a lady gets to dip her toes into the water. You don't mind, do you?"

Ewan's eyes widened as he watched Bridget lower herself to the loamy soil, unlace her shoes, and peel down her stockings. The mere vision of her hidden flesh sent a wave of pleasure through him. How he wanted to brush the tips of his fingers over her inner thighs and watch her wriggle with delight.

"Now that is divine," Bridget said the moment her toes touched the water. "A bit colder than I was expecting, but welcoming nonetheless."

"Surely the daughter of an earl would be more modest," Ewan said, averting his gaze as Bridget hiked the hem of her skirt up to her calves.

"Tell me, Scot, do the lassies you know run around barefooted and wild?"

"Aye," Ewan answered boldly. "Because they ken they are wild and free."

"Can't I have that too?" she asked as she kicked her foot, sending a splash of water his way. However, the instant she pulled back her foot, her face crumpled with pain. Ewan came to her side in a flash and wrapped his arm around her waist.

"Ye need to be more careful, unless ye're tryin' to find excuses to stay here. If that is the case, I have no doubt that sooner or later, someone will be comin' for ye."

"I highly doubt the Viscount will come looking for me. As for my family…" Bridget dropped her head and slowly pulled away from him. "I doubt they care about anything."

"Do ye have nay other family? Braithers? Sisters?" Ewan asked.

"No," Bridget answered as she quickly dabbed the corner of her eye. "But I've answered your questions, and now it is my turn."

Folding his arms across his chest, Ewan nodded. "Go on."

"Who was the woman at the shop earlier? She seemed to know an awful lot about you."

Out of all of the questions she could have asked him, he found himself grateful it was one he could answer honestly.

"Katrina Robertson, sister to Laird Alistair. He's my neighbor if ye could call him that. Owns the northernmost part of the island," Ewan answered as he lowered Bridget onto a fallen tree.

"There's history between the two of you," Bridget said, a question rather than a statement.

"Aye, there is."

"And are you going to tell me what it is?" Bridget asked, exasperated. "Talking to you is like pulling teeth."

"This isnae talkin'. What ye're doin' is gossipin', and I'm nae too keen on the prospect. Rumors can start wars, ye ken," he said as he knelt beside her. He turned his attention to the loch as he absentmindedly rubbed her ankle to ease her pain.

Ewan couldn't help but feel Bridget's eyes on him. It was as though she was trying to trudge unscathed through the mire of his soul.

"You don't have to tell me," Bridget answered as she squirmed.

"What's this?" he whispered as he glanced at the bottom of her foot.

"It's sensitive there," she said with a giggle.

Seeing her face light up made Ewan's chest tighten. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen something so pure and innocent.

"So, what happened between you and Katrina? Did she not want you because of your accident? What happened, by the way? Why do you wear a mask?"

Her questions caught Ewan off guard. Out of all the things she could have asked him, these were the hardest to answer. He knew the topic of his mask would come up eventually, but he had hoped he could delay it for a time.

"It wasnae like that," he answered. "I didnae want her."

"But she's very pretty," Bridget muttered under her breath as she played with a loose strand of hair.

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, is it nae?" Ewan asked as he arched an eyebrow and gently placed her foot down on the loamy ground. "Well, I dinnae think it works that way for me. Katrina is as bonnie as a moldy mud pie."

"That's not very nice."

"Nice? Since when does bein' nice get ye anywhere in life?" Ewan snapped. "Best to be yerself in every possible way, that way everyone kens what they're gettin'. Unfortunately, far too many people arenae honest wit' themselves. If they were, the world would be a far different place, indeed."

"Well, aren't you a grumpy, old fool!" Bridget exclaimed. "Do you enjoy sucking the joy out of everyone's life? Is that why you're alone?"

"I choose to be alone," Ewan snapped. "It makes life easier. Besides, it's nae like it matters at this point."

"And what exactly is that supposed to mean? You sound like you'll never marry."

"Dinnae ye have a keen ear to be pickin' up on hidden things," Ewan said as he narrowed his eyes at her.

"You didn't answer the question," Bridget said as she put her weight on her ankle before rising to her feet.

Ewan felt her close to him, but as much as he wanted to look at her, he knew it would be a bad idea.

"I cannae marry," he said over his shoulder, daring to steal a glance at her. The shock on Bridget's face would haunt his dreams later, he was certain of it.

"Can't or won't?" she asked.

He could feel her eyes on him, searching for an explanation, but the harder Bridget looked, the thicker the wall around him became.

Thunder boomed overhead as clouds drifted past the sun. "We should head back."

"Did I say something to offend you? Because if I did—" Bridget started, but Ewan lifted a hand to silence her.

"How is yer ankle? Think we can ride harder back to the castle? I dinnae mind the rain so much, but if ye dinnae want to get wet, I suggest we leave now."