The man who might want someone else.
“What is amiss?” a familiar feminine voice asked. “Why are ye listening?”
Faye spun around, grateful for the interruption of her thoughts. She didn’t need to consider her feelings for her husband or his for another. Especially when she ought not to have feelings for him at all.
“The Chieftain of the Gordon clan claims Ewan shouldn’t have wed me due to a contract negotiated between them for Ewan’s marriage to Mistress Blair.” Faye tried to ignore the pinch of guilt in her chest that her union to Ewan had caused so much difficulty.
When she’d wed him, she’d never once considered what he’d given up. She’d only thought of her own loss. Now, she realized the depth of his sacrifice.
Moiré pressed her ear to the other side of the doorframe. “I feared the Gordons might be displeased.”
“Verra well,” Ewan’s low timbre sounded in the Great Hall, silencing the two women. “I’ll allow marriage between Cruim and Mistress Blair.”
Moiré gave a sharp gasp. She slapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with shock.
“When the lass arrives, they’ll be wed,” Ewan said. There was an unmistakable tension to his usually smooth voice. “Until then, ye may stay in the castle as my guest.”
Servants were summoned to escort the Gordon men to rooms in the castle and see to their comfort. Faye glanced at Moiré, who dropped her hand and shook her head. Before either could speak, the heavy fall of footsteps came toward them. Both women leapt back from the door as it swung inward and brought Ewan standing before them, his expression tense.
“What happened?” Faye asked innocently.
He scowled. “Dinna act as though ye were no’ listening at the door.”
Heat touched her cheeks at having been caught.
He directed his ire toward Moiré. “Did ye know about this?”
She shook her head so vigorously, her hair brushed across her rose-colored kirtle. Admittedly, the color was fine on her. It complimented the rich brown of her eyes and made her lips and cheeks pink against her fair skin.
“Do ye think…mayhap…” Moiré linked her hands together and stared at her interlaced fingers. “Was anything said about a union between Finn and me? Mayhap my union could…”
The ferocity on Ewan’s face dissolved into compassion. “There wasna any mention of Finn.”
“Oh.” Moiré tucked her chin lower, hiding her face. “Of course, thank ye for informing me,” she mumbled.
Her disappointment cut into Faye.
Ewan must have understood his cousin’s pain as well, for he put a hand to her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Moiré.”
She stepped back with a mumbled apology and practically ran down the hall.
Faye looked questioningly at Ewan, seeking answers not only about Moiré but about Ewan’s uncle and the woman he was supposed to marry before she was pushed in his path.
He indicated she should follow him and led her to his chamber. “I dinna wish to risk being overhead,” he said once the door was closed. “Especially with the Gordon clan about.”
“Ye were betrothed before me?” Faye asked, addressing her most pressing concern first.
Ewan rubbed the back of his neck. “The contract wasna signed, but aye, I was to be betrothed to Mistress Blair.”
His reply nipped at Faye’s heart; a foreign hurt she didn’t want to think too hard upon. And yet, she had to know… “Did ye love her?”
He offered an affectionate smile. “Nay, ’twas simply to secure an alliance.”
“And ye’re displeased that now yer uncle is wedding her?” Faye frowned. If Ewan did not care for the woman, why was he so flustered?
Ewan tugged off his doublet, so he wore only his leine and trews. “My uncle, Cruim, has always had his eye on the chieftainship.”
Faye had not met the man yet. He’d not been to the castle in her time there, at least not that she’d been aware of. Nor had he attended her rushed wedding.
“The man is surprisingly clever,” Ewan continued. “While I was considering arranging for a union with Mistress Blair, Cruim began negotiations for a marriage between Moiré and Gordon’s eldest son, Finn. Apparently, Moiré has had her heart set on him for some time.”
Faye poured a goblet of wine from a flagon on a nearby table and brought it to her husband, who accepted it with a grateful nod. “I take it the betrothal did not work out,” Faye said.
Ewan shook his head. “We couldna come to terms that we both agreed on for Moiré to wed. But I have my suspicions that no matter what I offered, they would deem it insufficient.”
Faye directed Ewan to a chair by the fire, intent on making him feel better. As he had done for her earlier that day after Torish.
“Why is that?” She asked.
Ewan sank into the chair with a grateful sigh. “Finn dinna want to marry her. I kept it from Moiré, of course, but I suspect she knows.”
Faye winced for the other woman as her suspicions at Moiré’s hurt were confirmed.
“And now yer uncle is seeking an alliance with the Gordons once more, but for his own benefit.” Faye slid her hands down the back of Ewan’s neck, kneading the tense muscles there.
She did the same ministrations for her mother often, when she suffered from overwhelming moments of grief at Da’s loss. It didn’t matter what form of tincture or tea Clara made for their mother, nothing had worked as well as massaging the tension from Mum’s wiry body.
Ewan sighed in pleasure, and his shoulders relaxed somewhat. “He passes his intent to marry Mistress Blair as placating the Gordons, but ’tis deeper than all that. I know it.”
“Might he take yer position by force with their aid?” Faye glided her hands down the sides of his spine, slowly working through the bands of powerful muscle.
Ewan dropped his head forward to allow her better access. “If he attacks outright, ’tis possible. But it would be difficult considering my alliance with yer grandda’s clan. But
