Dread settled over Faye’s shoulders. “What is it?”
“I saw Ewan.” Moiré indicated a nearby cottage.
“In the cottage?” Faye asked.
Moiré nodded.
Faye’s heart gave a joyous leap. “Let’s go to him. I can tell him the happy news now.”
A smile widened over Moiré’s pretty face, and she set to work untethering their horses. They rode together toward the small hut where Ewan’s black horse was already secured out front, but as they drew near, another rider approached and dismounted.
The woman wore a dark cloak over a blue kirtle. The wind blew at the hood of her gown, pulling it back just far enough for Faye to make out the flash of red hair beneath and an ample amount of bosom exposed from the lowcut neckline.
The breath sucked out of Faye’s lungs as she realized the identity of the rider meeting her husband.
Mistress Blair.
Ewan hated the secretive nature of his meeting. Nay, it wasn’t the nature of it, but the woman involved. Blair.
What was more, he hated having lied about it to Faye.
His heart clenched to think of his wife, of how tired she’d been and her determination not to go to a healer. He wanted to end this meeting quickly and return to her.
Agitation churned restless anxiety in his gut. He paced the cottage, winding around the empty, dark fire pit, back and forth. There was nothing within the deserted home, all the bits of furniture and belongings long since cleared out. Dots of sunlight shone in from the rafters above, and a musty chill hung in the air, speaking of its long-ago abandonment.
The door rattled on rusty hinges as the handle was gripped, and the warped wood swung inward, revealing Blair. Her gaze fixed on him, smoldering with intent.
Damn it.
She pushed the door closed, secured the latch and drew off her cloak. Her blue kirtle was cut far too low over her breasts, nearly exposing the edge of her nipples as the tortured globes were squeezed over her neckline.
“Ewan,” she breathed. “I’ve been waiting to hear from ye for so long.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, uncomfortable with how hot the icy room had suddenly become. And even more uncomfortable with how her gaze raked over him. “Ye told me ye had news of my uncle,” he said.
“I have all the news ye want.” She bit her lower lip, and her stare dropped to his groin.
Jesu.
He shifted slightly, but there was no way in the openness of the empty home to adequately block her probing eyes. This must be what it felt like for women being ogled by men.
She sauntered toward him, her hips swaying with seduction, her long red curls bouncing.
Ewan stepped back. “This wasna the meeting I intended.”
“Then why did ye come?” Blair grabbed his doublet and pulled him toward her. “Do ye know how many nights I laid awake thinking of ye? The man who should have been my husband. How many times I slid my fingers—”
“Enough.” Ewan pulled away from her, his face burning with the intensity of his unease. “Ye wrote to me saying ye had important news of my uncle ye couldna discuss anywhere else.”
She blinked at him. “And ye wrote to me telling me how ye couldna stop thinking of me. How ye longed to feel my body upon yers.”
His jaw dropped. “I dinna write a letter like that.”
Hurt flashed in her eyes. “Ye dinna?”
“Nay, and I wouldna,” Ewan said gently. “I love my wife.” He paused after the declaration. It was the first time he’d said those words aloud. “I love her,” he repeated vehemently.
Tears glittered in Blair’s eyes. “Ye were supposed to love me, Ewan.”
Guilt twisted in his chest for the woman who had been a pawn in this game of marriage and love, easily shifted to whatever side increased the likelihood of winning.
“I’m sorry, Blair.” His voice was so quiet that it was nearly inaudible in the empty room.
“Dinna think to ever seek my forgiveness.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I’ll never give it. No’ after ye agreed to my marriage to yer ancient uncle. I was supposed to be happy.” A sob choked up from her throat. She put her head in her hands. “I was supposed to be happy with ye,” she whimpered.
Ewan stood by, uncertain of what to do. He had been the source of her misery. It was he who had decided to marry Faye instead of Blair, changing his mind just as the negotiations with the Gordon Chieftain were nearly complete. All of this had been his fault.
He opened his arms to her in an attempt to offer comfort. She sagged against him, nuzzling her face into his chest as she breathed in deeply.
“This was all I’ve ever wanted.” Her arms curled around his back, locking their bodies together. “Ye are all I’ve ever wanted.”
“Blair,” he said in an attempt to recall her to her senses.
She ran her hand over his chest and gave a shuddering sigh. “Kiss me, Ewan.” Her face tilted up to his.
Before he could disentangle himself from her, the door flew inward with such force that splintered wood skittered across the hard-packed floor. Ten warriors entered the single room cottage with Ewan’s uncle behind them.
“I knew it,” he cried.
The warriors surrounded them, but Cruim broke through the circle of men and ripped Blair away from Ewan. Cruim staggered slightly as he held Blair by the back of her kirtle.
He glared at her, his gaze going to her nearly exposed breasts. “Ye willna even kiss me, but ye play the role of leman to this whelp?” A rattle in his chest followed his angry words.
“I never wanted to marry ye,” Blair said vehemently.
An older man with bulging muscles stepped forward and restrained Blair, holding her arms behind her back. Her chest pushed forward, and her breasts swelled with each jagged breath.
“Release her,” Ewan ordered.
The man did not. In fact, he didn’t even look at Ewan.
“These are not yer men,” Cruim said. “They
