They were Scottish. Filth.
The worst had been when a girl Faye had loved like a sister spat on her. Years had passed, and still, Faye could recall her horror as she stared at the foamy puddle of spittle dripping down the sleeve of her kirtle.
It wasn’t the only time their trust was betrayed by those they loved. It had happened again in one of the Scottish villages when they’d been forced to leave in the middle of the night after Faye had confessed to a friend they were running from her grandfather. Nay. Faye’s trust had been twisted too many times. Love only brought disappointment and hurt.
No one had ever been worthy of such trust, save her family.
And they were now gone.
Faye swallowed hard to clear the lump, but this time it was far too stubborn. The tears came in a stream, and her face stretched with the grief of her silent cries. She turned from Ewan, slipping from his loose hold, and pressed her face to the pillow to allow her tears to pour freely as sorrow shuddered through her.
A strong arm secured around her shoulders. “Ye’re shivering, lass.” Ewan drew her back against the solid heat of his body, and a blanket came over them both. His lips pressed to her shoulder, and he relaxed once more, evidently asleep.
She hadn’t wanted his comfort.
Indeed, she would have declined if he’d offered. But his innocent mistake of her grief for a chill and the gesture to warm her allowed her to remain where she was, reveling in his comfort without sacrificing her pride. There, in the cradle of his arms, with the power of his body at her back and the heat of his skin melting the ice of her loneliness, she found a glimmer of solace.
She remained in his arms thus through the night until the mattress shifted under her, and Ewan slipped away from her. Her body immediately cooled without him near. She turned and found him washing by the basin. Firelight shone off his muscular torso as he scrubbed over his skin, washing away evidence of their passion from the night before.
“I see ye’re also awake, my bonny lass.” He grinned at her.
Faye gave a little moan and eased a naked leg from the sheets. “Return to bed with me.”
He dropped the linen into the basin and approached the bed. But he didn’t climb in. Instead, he braced his arms on the mattress and pressed a kiss to her brow. “If I do, I dinna think I’ll be able to leave for several hours.”
“Do ye promise?” Faye sat up, baring her breasts for his perusal.
And peruse he did, in an appreciative stare. Like a moth lured to a flame, he reached out and slowly cupped her breast as his thumb swept over her nipple.
Before Faye could moan her approval, he pulled his hand away and clenched it into a fist. “Nay, we’ve plans this morn.”
Faye leaned forward, going onto her hands and knees as she looked up at him. She’d seen a farmer’s wife being taken thus in the stables once and knew the position to be erotic. “Have we?”
He hesitated as he took her in, his expression sharpening with interest. “Aye.” He turned from her and pulled on a fresh pair of trews from the chest at the foot of his bed. “A ride.”
“A ride,” she echoed.
“Through the Sutherland lands.” He threaded his arms into his leine as he drew it on. “I thought ye’d want to see where ye live, meet the tenants. Ye’re their mistress now as well.”
A horse ride over the lands. Faye slid from the bed to hide her frown. She didn’t want to spend the day with him or see how good he was to his people. She wanted, needed, their lives to be separate.
She searched her mind for an excuse. Something. Anything.
“I haven’t a proper kirtle,” she protested.
“Gavina said she’d have it for ye by now, and it will be done.” He winked. “Gavina always does as she says.”
Faye smiled pleasantly and nodded even as she steeled herself for exploring the lands with her husband. Surely this had to happen at some point. She’d only hoped she might find something displeasing about him to focus on before it did.
As of now, there was nothing to disparage him. In fact, everything recommended him, laid out to pry open her chest and bear her heart.
Except she was not ready to trust and knew she might never be.
Even with a man like Ewan Sutherland.
Ewan worried Faye might decline to accompany him on the inspection of their lands after voicing concerns over her garment, but she offered no more protests.
She rode at his side now, the deep red kirtle cleaned and repaired and buried under a thick cloak to ensure her warmth.
“These are the lands we’ve had for years,” Ewan indicated the expanse of the Sutherland territory. Grass-covered hills rolled in the distance beneath an endless blue sky. In the distance, a loch lay nestled like a mirror between two swells of earth. It extended far beyond what they could see, but it would still give her an idea.
She lifted her face into the wind and gazed out at the land with reverence. “It feels like we’re the only two people in Scotland.”
It was more than she’d said thus far, apparently content to mainly listen.
But then, that seemed to be the way of it with her. She did not offer opinions or share stories of her childhood or family. It did not escape his notice that she often turned toward sexual distraction
