He thought she would leave it only at that and was pleasantly surprised when she continued, “My da was an English knight.”
Ewan nodded, knowing of Drake’s desire to follow in his father’s footsteps and become a knight. A feat that was difficult for a man with equal parts English and Scottish blood in his veins.
“He died in a battle against the Scottish,” she went on. “Losing him was painful. It was made all the more so from people we thought had been our friends. Many of them had lost loved ones in the same battle that took my da. They hated us, Ewan. These people who we thought were our friends, and they turned their backs on us. The butcher wouldn’t sell us meat, women blocked the well so we couldn’t get to the water, even the priest cast us from the chapel. Through it all, I thought surely, I could trust our neighbors. But when I sought help from my friend for food and comfort…” Her voice went tight with emotion. “She spat on me.” She looked at her sleeve as if expecting to find a spatter of spittle there. “She said we deserved to starve.”
Ewan remembered Faye as a girl, a sensitive, kind girl whose heart was easily bruised. He didn’t know who Faye spoke of, the one who had hurt her so cruelly, but he wanted to punish her.
“We left the village but were met with much of the same hatred all the way up through England and into Scotland, past the border,” Faye said. “We stayed in one place for a while, but…”
“But what?” Ewan pressed.
She closed her eyes in clear chastisement of herself. “I told a friend there of how we were avoiding our grandda. The next day, I overheard that her da had gone to the Highlands to seek out the Ross Chieftain. They thought to profit from sharing our location.”
She shook her head, her expression so pained, it pulled at Ewan’s heart. He stroked a hand down her back, trying to offer whatever comfort he could.
“It was my fault,” Faye whispered. “I shouldna have trusted anyone.”
“Ye were a lass in need of a friend.” He pulled her to him. How he wished he could cradle away her pain.
She nuzzled into his chest, their bodies a perfect fit. “We had to go to the border then, where our accents would be lost among so many of English and Scottish descent, where we could properly hide. But I never trusted anyone again.” She looked up at him. “Until ye.”
“Ye trust me?” Ewan asked, unable to keep the hope from his question.
Her blue eyes met his and held. She pulled in a long inhale. “Aye,” she whispered.
“I’ll never hurt ye,” he vowed. “I think Kinsey would kill me if I did.”
She laughed through her tears at that. “Aye, she would.”
Ewan gazed at the woman who had been forced into his life, the one who had been given little option to marry him and yet had decided to stay when she was given the chance to leave. She was attractive enough to turn the head of any man and fierce enough to escape an army of Ross warriors.
He loved her.
The thought struck him like an unexpected blow. And yet even as it did, he knew the realization to be undeniable.
He loved her, but he could not tell her for fear of scaring her off. In time, hopefully, he could confess the depth of his feelings. In time, aye, but not now. Not when it still seemed as if she might be skittish.
He had her trust, but hearts, he knew, were a different matter.
Faye had never considered herself a timid woman. She confronted her challenges and dared them to take her on. But standing before Ewan and baring her soul took a bravery she had never before needed.
The tender, almost hesitant, way he watched her told her he understood her admission had been difficult. He gently brushed his fingertips over her cheek. “Thank ye for trusting me.”
She gazed into his eyes, and desire stirred within her. Not like before, where lust had swept through her and drowned everything out. She didn’t want to couple with him to forget. She wanted to couple with him to remember—to savor this moment and how hard he’d fought for her trust, how much she willingly gave of herself to offer it and the bond growing between them.
“Ewan,” she whispered his name softly.
His thumb stroked over her skin with heart-aching affection. “Aye?”
“I…” The emotions barreling through her were almost too much. Too foreign to put a name to. She put her hand to his chest and her fingers molded over the shape of his muscle there, and his heart tapped a strong rhythm beneath her palm. “I care for ye.”
He gazed down at her, and she found herself lost in his hazel eyes, unable to pull away. As if she could stare at him for hours and still crave more. He was a man as beautiful outside as he was inside. And he was her husband.
He had risked so much for her, given her everything she’d asked for, and offered even more. Never had she imagined herself married to anyone, let alone someone who made her feel safe enough to be vulnerable.
And here she was, with her heart peeled raw and her hopes thrown wide.
Ewan cradled her face in his hands. “I care for ye, Faye Sutherland, and I swear to ye, I’ll never break yer trust.”
He lowered his head, and she rose up on her toes. Their lips met, not with the clash of passion as before, but with a savoring, chaste kiss that became several more. Faye’s hands moved over Ewan, needing to feel him, as though reassuring herself of his nearness and desperate to be closer still.
He nudged his chin against hers. The rasp of his cropped beard against her sensitive skin sent a prickle of goosebumps running over her.
“Ye’re so
