Ewan braced his hands on his desk while he settled his thoughts. As his temper cooled, Faye pushed to the forefront of his mind. Her sisters and Cait would be gone by now. No doubt, she would be upset.
He pushed out into the hall and nearly ran into Moiré. She screamed in surprise and brown liquid sloshed from the cup in her hands, splashing the floor.
“Forgive me, Moiré.” He backed up to give her some space. “I was on my way to see Faye.”
She put her hand to her chest as though to calm her racing heart. “I was of the same mind.” She offered a sad smile. “I imagine it must be hard for her family to leave after such a pleasant visit.”
Ewan indicated the half-full mug. “Was that for her?”
“Aye.” Moiré lifted one shoulder, brushing off her considerate act. “I thought it might help.” She looked down at the dark liquid staining her red skirt. “Would ye mayhap take it to her?”
“Aye, of course.” Ewan accepted the hot cup.
“Thank ye.” Moiré smiled gratefully at him, as though he’d done her a great favor. She’d been so helpful while Faye’s family had been at Dunrobin.
Ewan nodded. “I’m sorry about yer kirtle.”
Moiré waved him off, her demeanor as pleasant as always. “Ye need no’ worry after me. Go on to yer bride.”
He didn’t need to be told twice. He turned on his heel and swiftly strode toward his chamber before the tea in his hand could cool. Once there, he rapped softly on their shared door, entering only when she bade him to.
She lay upon the bed with her back facing him.
“Moiré made ye some tea,” Ewan said.
Faye turned to him, her face reddened and tear stained. Dread washed over him. Mayhap she was regretting her decision.
“I can bring it to ye if ye like,” he offered.
She shook her head. “Please set it on the table.”
He did as she asked. The heavy mug settled on the table with a loud clunk in the quiet room. He hesitated, uncertain what to do next.
“Is there anything else I can get ye?” he asked.
Her mouth curled up in an unexpected smile. “Ye.”
Relief replaced dread. Her request was one he could readily agree to.
He eased onto the bed, and she rolled toward him, so her head settled on his chest. She put her arms around him, not in an embrace, but as though she clung to him. He rubbed her back in soothing circles, the way his mum had done when he was a lad.
She hummed in quiet contentment and nestled closer.
Her mouth pressed to his chest, just above his heart, then again at the neckline of his leine. The next kiss was on the skin at the base of his throat. Tingles of pleasure warmed its way to his core as need coiled within him.
She shifted over him, straddling him, her lips brushing his neck, his chin. The heat built to a roaring flame. He caught her face in his hands and stroked her tongue with his.
“Make me forget how I feel right now,” Faye whispered breathlessly between kisses.
I love ye.
The words teetered on the edge of his heart and caught at the tip of his tongue. He wanted to say them in her ear as he claimed her body or whisper them to her as they cradled in one another’s sweat-slick embrace after.
“I care for ye,” he said instead.
She arched her body against him with desperate need, and he was glad he’d kept those passionate words to himself. After she had sacrificed everything, the last thing he wanted was to frighten her with the force of his emotions.
He tugged at the fabric of her skirt and drew it upward as her fingers worked over the ties of his trews, liberating him. He thrust up into her as she rode him, their cries hoarse with passion, his heart tangled in its throes. Despite the throb of lust consuming him, he could not stop the worry from threading through the background of his mind that she would regret her decision to stay.
Faye walked slowly through the castle with an assessing look. It had been three weeks since she’d resumed responsibilities as mistress of the castle after her family’s departure. There had been several errors on her part: laundry days switched from the usual days resulting in confusion with the servants, an order for the larder gone wrong, several bolts of fabric used for the wrong things.
All small things. Certainly not to the extent of the blunder the eels had been, though now she and Ewan laughed over the memory.
Eventually, she’d devised a system to double-check tasks before they could be executed to ensure no more issues arose. Only then did everything begin to run smoothly.
She was just leaving the kitchen when Ewan’s voice sounded behind her. “There’s the bonny Lady Sutherland.”
She turned to him with a smile stretching over her lips.
He was as handsome as ever in a pair of black leather trews with his gray doublet opened at the throat to reveal his leine beneath. “And there’s the handsome chieftain of us all.”
He flashed her a bright white grin and pulled her into his arms. His brows drew down with concern. “Ye look tired, wife. I wish ye’d slept later this morn.”
“Flatterer.” Faye pretended to push him away. “And I’d already slept plenty late.”
In truth, she was embarrassed at how far into the morn it was when she was finally able to pull herself from the bed. Especially when she had always been one to rise with the sun. But regardless of how much she slept, she was unable to wake rested.
Ewan grabbed her back toward him. “Ye know I think ye’re the loveliest woman in all of Scotland. I only worry about how hard ye work.”
“Says the hardest working man in all of Scotland.” She pressed a kiss to his lips. “Off with ye now, I’ve got a few
