This journey through the country would give them an opportunity to know one another better. He cared about her already. How could he not when he spent so much time thinking of her?
But he had to let her know he cared for her. An ache squeezed in his chest. She would not end up like Lara, whom he had so egregiously failed.
They slowed their horses to a stop so Faye could take her time studying Sutherland’s beauty.
Pride swelled in his chest at the look of awe on her face as she scanned the vast horizon. “Aye, it can feel like that at times. I imagine it seems especially so for ye as ye’ve lived in villages for most of yer life.” He pointed to the west. “Torish is that way.”
“Torish?”
“Aye, the lands of yer dowry. Have ye been to them before?”
“Nay,” Faye replied.
“Did ye know ye had land as part of yer dowry?” he asked.
She looked in the distance as though she could see it all laid out. “I never even considered that I might have a dowry, though it does make sense…” She spoke so softly that the wind nearly snatched her words.
“’Tis a handsome dowry that came with considerable wealth and fertile land.”
“Now yer wealth and yer land.” She said the statement in a flat voice.
He edged his horse closer to her and settled a gloved hand over hers. “Our land. And I’ve had Monroe ensure in the event of my death ye receive Torish for yer own keeping.”
She started at that. “It would not go back to my grandfather?”
Ewan chuckled. “Only if ye promise no’ to kill me.”
To his surprise, tears welled in her eyes.
“I dinna intend to die any time soon.” He smiled at her by way of reassurance. “But if I do, I want to ensure ye’re well cared for.”
She nodded, and a tear slid down her cheek. She hastily wiped it away and turned her face from him, as though ashamed of her emotion.
“What is it, lass?” Ewan asked.
She pressed her lips together and shook her head.
Her refusal to share what troubled her did not vex Ewan. The lass had been kidnapped by her own grandfather and forced into a new, strange world. Doubtless, her life had its share of difficulties and such struggles often curled one’s true thoughts into a protective shell. Getting her to open up to him would be a slow process, but he was a man of great patience.
Especially when faced with a task so worthy.
“Would ye like to see yer land?” he asked.
She turned her attention back to him and readjusted the reins in her gloved hands. “I’d like that very much.”
“As ye wish, my lady.” He directed his horse toward Torish and all its surrounding land.
Ewan intentionally kept his pace slow to allow them to speak. When Faye did not offer conversation, he filled the silence with stories of his youth and the many times he’d gone to visit their clan tenants.
“I wasna always my da’s choice to accompany him when he saw to his people,” he confessed.
“Because of yer older brother?” she surmised.
“Aye, ’twas he who was to be the chieftain and he who received the training for the task.” Ewan kept his tone neutral, ensuring the wisp of self-doubt at his role was not discernible. The same as he always did when speaking of his unexpected chieftainship. He’d lacked the formal training other chieftains had benefitted from.
She nodded, more to herself than to him. “Mayhap it was for the best,” she replied.
“Why do ye say that?” he asked.
She lifted her shoulder in a shrug. “Ye’re a strong chieftain who genuinely cares for his people. Mayhap if ye’d trained for it yer whole life, yer thoughts would be tailored toward a different way of ruling.”
He contemplated her statement. He’d never once considered he’d been at an advantage for having not learned the way of a chieftain his entire life.
“My brother wishes to be a knight,” she said. “He’s far more chivalrous than any English knight I’ve ever known. He hasna been able to become a knight due to being English and Scottish. I believe because he was not able to attend such formal education, he’s remained uncorrupted.”
“Drake,” Ewan recalled.
She nodded, and her silence resumed. But what she’d told him said more about her than if she’d chatted on extensively. She was an astute woman who was keenly aware of what transpired around her. What was more, her brother’s restrictions with the English no doubt were a shared burden.
Ewan didn’t remark further on what she’d said. Rather, he pointed out the village of Torish as they approached. The land appeared much the same as his own, save that it was dotted with sheep who milled about with their thick, billowing coats. As they neared, he could make out the shoddy thatching in the roofs and the general disrepair of the huts.
He’d anticipated Ross had not properly cared for the people in some time, especially in light of having it soon belong to someone else. But it was far worse than Ewan had expected.
“Is something amiss?” Faye asked.
“The homes need mending.” He directed them toward the edge of the village and dismounted. “We’ve wedding gifts for the people.” He offered her hand to her to assist her from her horse.
She put her fingers to his palm and slid from her steed. “For the people?”
“I thought they’d have need of it.” Sutherland untied a purse from his saddle. The coins within clinked.
Several villagers nearby glanced toward them, their faces guarded, but curious. Doubtless, it had been some time since they’d seen a chieftain. A considerable time if the state of their homes was any indication.
“Ye’re giving the people money?” she whispered incredulously at his side.
“They have need of it,” he responded again, quietly.
She stared at him for a long moment, her expression one he could not quite make out.
He handed
