Page 46 of Bride of the Merciless Laird
Tyra could not restrain a giggle as they strode together across to the keep and up the stairs to Ewan’s chamber.
Once Ewan was settled in relative comfort in front of his fire, Duncan departed, giving his gruff brother a quick salute and a nod to Tyra as he went.
Tyra looked among the garments hanging in Ewan’s garde robe and found him a worn but clean, linen shirt, which she took over to him as he sat bare-chested – save for the linen binding his chest.
“Here.” She proffered the shirt. “Please stand and raise yer arms.” He stood, a hand on the back of the chair and went to raise his arms. Wincing, he grunted in pain. “Slowly daes it, milaird.”
Once he’d inched his arms to shoulder height, Tyra eased the shirt over his head so that he could place his arms in the sleeves. Her arms around him, she lowered it, taking great care not to cause him pain.
She looked up to find his eyes on her. The breath hitched in her throat as their gazes locked. With scarcely a thought she raised herself on tiptoe, her lips meeting his in a soft kiss.
He wound his arms around her, holding her close, while she breathed in the scent of his skin, the faint scent of burdock, sweat, leather, horse.
She melted against him, their kiss slow, gentle, sinuous, their tongues languidly teasing. The release of the pent-up terror of the ambush, the relief of their escape and her joy that Ewan was alive and holding her in his arms were all in the kiss.
When they eased apart, gasping air, and pulled back, Ewan’s eyes were downcast. He faced away from her, his arms dropping to his sides.
“I am sorry. I dinnae ken what came over me. I shouldnae have treated ye so.”
She looked at him, her brow puckered, shaking her head.
What is he saying? Was he nae the one tae initiate our kiss at the inn? Did he think I was rebuffing him then?
She was confused, washed with shame at her boldness.
“Dinnae apologize.” She turned and stepped toward the door. “I was tae blame. It was I who should apologize fer being so forward.”
She needed time and space to clear the bedeviling thoughts roaming free in her mind.
Her hand was on the latch when she heard him call, “Please wait, Tyra.”
She hesitated then turned to face him. He had called her by her name.
“Please take a seat. There are things we need tae discuss now.”
“Things that cannae wait?”
He shook his head, easing himself into his chair by the fire.
She returned and took the chair beside him, her cheeks burning with chagrin.
He spoke kindly. “I dinnae wish ye tae regret what passed between us.”
She looked up, meeting his eyes, finding there the same confusion that bedeviled her.
“I have placed ye and yer loved ones in danger. I shouldnae be here.” “Nay lass, dinnae say that. We were fortunate and escaped today’s ambush.”
“’Twas nae good fortune, but the skill and bravery of two warriors who were ready tae fight and save us.” She pushed a strand of loose hair from her eyes and tucked it behind her ear.
He took a deep breath, gazing into the fire. “’We have agreed tae wed and I’ve nay intention of allowing Harris MacDonald tae in the way of that decision.”
“Surely, ye—?” He’d not wish to go ahead with their betrothal now he’d witnessed the danger firsthand?
He shook his head. “I’ll instruct me braither tae hasten at once and call the Council tae an urgent meeting at first light on the morrow. I wish us tae wed without delay.”
She gasped.
“’Tis the only way I can keep ye safe. Until we are wed the risk is great, but once MacDonald understands that ye’re the Lady ofEilean Donan, he’ll ne’er attack. Fer if he daes, he’ll bring down the full strength and might of the Mackenzies on his head.
