He was right. The Gordons would be unhappy. While nothing had been signed, months of negotiations had finally brought them to the brink of making an agreement that benefited both clans. Though naught close to what the Ross agreement offered to the Sutherlands.
“Do ye think Cruim will do anything rash?” Ewan asked of Moiré’s da.
She lifted her shoulder in a slight shrug. “I’ll let ye know if I find out.”
Were it not for Moiré reporting on her da’s behavior, Ewan would have little information on any of his uncle’s possible nefarious activities. Suggesting for him to live in a nearby manor had not resulted in any additional trust between him and Uncle Cruim.
Ewan leaned back in his chair and regarded his cousin. For once, his uncle was not the topic that weighed most on his mind throughout the day. “How is Faye?”
Moiré grinned with childlike enthusiasm. Hers was an infectious smile and one of the many reasons Ewan enjoyed her company. “She’s so charming, Ewan. I showed her around the castle and gave her some instructions on how to see about running it all. She caught on quickly enough that I expect she’ll be doing it all on her own within a fortnight.”
Ewan nodded. “Thank ye for instructing her.”
“Of course.” Moiré put an affectionate hand on his arm. “She wrote a missive to her family, and I sent one of our fastest men to deliver it. I canna imagine what she must be feeling, after all she’s gone through.” Her expression softened with empathy. “I wish there was more I could do for her.”
“Ye’ve yielded yer position as mistress of the castle to her, taken yer time to introduce her to the staff and even given her yer clothing while hers is being prepared.” He got to his feet and settled a hand on Moiré’s shoulder. “I think ye’ve done more than enough, and I thank ye heartily for it.”
“I think she’ll be good for ye, too,” Moiré said. “The way she looks at ye…I could see yer wife falling in love with ye.”
Those words put a pleasant warmth in his chest. One he would not allow himself to consider. Not yet.
Moiré tipped her chin as though the sacrifices she made were of little concern. “She’s the reason I’m here. She asked to dine with ye in yer chambers rather than at the Great Hall.”
Ewan frowned. “Is she unwell?”
Moiré folded her arms over her chest and tapped a forefinger against her sleeve. “She was quiet, but I wouldna say unwell.”
“When should I join her?” he asked.
“She’s there now.”
Ewan nodded his thanks to his cousin and put the contract in his desk drawer, locking it with the small, precious key he’d had made some years back. No doubt, Faye was reeling from the turn of events. Who would not in her circumstances?
She had not said much the prior evening when he’d suggested they get to know one another again. Not that he could blame her. Heat effused his blood at what they’d done instead of talk. He hadn’t been able to nudge his mind away from thoughts of her all day. Thoughts and memories.
She’d burned his mind like a brand, and he’d gladly endured its sear. He reveled in it. Craved it.
His cock stirred. “Thank ye, Moiré. I’ll go to her now.” He bade a good evening to his cousin and went to his chamber.
As Moiré had said, Faye was already waiting for him at a table laden with the evening’s meal. What hadn’t been mentioned, and most likely had not been known by Moiré, was that Faye wore only a leine.
One of his leines.
It rode high on her naked thighs where she sat at the table, her shapely legs crossed over one another. She gave him a coy smile as he approached, then uncrossed and recrossed her legs in a way that made him want to run his fingers up her smooth skin to see if she was as wet as he hoped.
He joined her at the table. From this vantage point, he could make out her open collar parted low on her chest, revealing the round curve of one partially bared breast. His palms ached for the silky weight, the nub of a pert nipple under the pad of his thumb.
He cleared his throat and wished he could clear his lust as easily. “My leine hasna ever looked that fine on me.”
“I don’t have any clothes that fit me properly,” she offered by way of explanation.
“I imagine ye made quite the impression if ye wore that through the castle today.” He said it lightly, but the idea of any other man seeing her body on display in such a manner made him tense.
She chuckled, a low, throaty sound. “Nay, I wore one of Moiré’s kirtles, but ’tis too small. Gavina is cleaning and repairing mine for the morrow, then will make more for me. Until then…” She swept her hands up her sides, putting herself on display.
“I canna say I mind yer attire.”
She ran her fingertips over the delicate line of her collar bone, gently brushing the flap open wider, so just a hint of the rosy pink nipple was visible.
God’s teeth, the woman turned him to fire.
“I hope ye enjoy the meal I asked to be made for ye.” She glanced down at the trenchers on the table.
His cock was hard as a rock, and his thoughts scattered because of it. Ewan, who had always held a particular fondness for food, hadn’t even noticed what laid in front of him. Beyond Faye, that was.
Roasted pheasant stuffed with figs and cinnamon, several rolls and a cabbage stew he’d always enjoyed.
He refocused, putting his attention to her. Where it was needed. “It smells divine. Thank ye.” He served her first, offering her a juicy piece of meat and the stuffing with the most chunks
