Page 72 of Bride of the Merciless Laird
Still, she clung to him a heartbeat longer, unwilling to let go. When she finally released him, her hand lingered on his sleeve. “Be safe on the sea. And take care of Annora.”
“That I will. But dinnae forget she’s fiercer than she looks,” he added with a small grin. Then his voice softened. “Ye’ve grown into yer own, Tyra. I’m proud of ye.”
Her throat tightened. “I’ll try tae make ye remain so.”
Ewan stood beside her, one arm around her shoulders, silent but solid – the anchor she needed as the Laird MacNeacail and his Lady Annora boarded the vessel. The ropes were untied and the birlinn slipped from the mooring, beginning their slow departure out into the loch.
Standing on the prow, Edmund raised a hand in farewell, and Annora turned for one last look, her cloak fluttering in the breeze.
Tyra and Ewan watched them sail until the ship was no more than a tiny speck in the far distance.
She brushed aside her tears as they wended their way back up the steps to the sea gate.
For a long while, Tyra remained still, watching the mist close behind them. Then, she turned and, passing through the gate, entered the keep. The halls and passages felt strangely hollow after Edmund and Annora’s departure.
“It feels too quiet now,” Tyra said softly.
Ewan glanced down at her, the corner of his mouth curving faintly. “Aye, quiet—but not empty.” He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. “Come, lass. Ye’ll freeze standing there.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
The stables were warm with the scent of hay and horsehide. Sunlight slanted through the gaps in the planks, catching on motes of dust that floated lazily in the air. Tyra stood at the stall of a bay mare, her hands moving in slow, steady strokes along the horse’s neck and flank. The rhythmic brushing soothed her mind, the sound of the bristles against the glossy coat a kind of balm.
She didn’t hear Ewan approach until he spoke softly behind her. “I thought I’d find ye here.”
She smiled faintly, not turning. “Ye ken me too well.”
“I’d wager I’m learning,” he said, stepping closer. “Ye’ve that look again. The one that says yer thoughts are a thousand miles away.”
Tyra paused, lowering the brush. “I was only… remembering. When I was a wean I used tae sneak out tae the stables at nighttae feed the ponies oats and carrots. I thought meself a wee rebel, although I imagine the stable lads kent all along.”
Ewan leaned against the post, arms folded, his gaze softening. “Ye’re thinking of yer old home. Ye miss yer braither and yer sister-in-law.”
“Aye.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “It’s strange, isn’t it? I’m grown now, wed into another clan, and yet when me people sail, I feel like that same wee lass again, wanting tae be with the ponies, wishing tae feel at home.”
He stepped nearer until his hand brushed hers. “Ye’ve nay need tae feel alone, Tyra. Ye have me as yer family now.” He swept his gaze around. “Eilean Donan is yer home as much as it is mine.”
Her eyes met his. “I ken. It’s just… I didn’t realize what it is tae need one’s own hearth and home until I left Scorrybreac. Already, I am warming tae Eilean Donan, the castle and all who dwell in it as well as yer clan.”
Ewan’s expression softened and he smiled at her. “It will nae be long before ye see the other members of yer family again soon. I’ll see tae it meself.”
A soft laugh escaped her. “Would ye truly sail all that way just tae keep yer promise?”
“I’d sail further fer less cause, if ye wished it,” he said simply.
Something in the quiet certainty of his tone struck her deeply. The ache in her heart eased a little. She turned to face him fully, her hand still resting on the mare’s neck. “Ye’re a good lad, Ewan Mackenzie.”
He slanted her a wry smile. “Dinnae let Duncan hear ye say that. He’d never let me live it down.”
Tyra’s laughter sounded softly through the stable. When she fell silent, the air between them shifted. Ewan reached out, tracing his fingers lightly along her jaw, tilting her chin up.
“Ye truly are a balm tae this place,” he murmured. “Since ye came, it feels… I feel… alive again.”
Her pulse fluttered at this admission from Ewan. There was sincerity shining in his eyes as their gazes locked. And there was something else. The longing he no longer attempted to hide from her.
He bent to kiss her, and she reached up, standing on tiptoe, to meet him halfway. The joining of lips was gentle at first, warm and breathy, tasting of the faint salt of tears she hadn’t realized she’d shed.
Then the kiss deepened as he pulled her close, still leisurely and unhurried, slowly deepening, full of promise. The world around them narrowed, until the soft nickering of the horses, the wind whistling through the timbers, disappeared and all that was left was the sound of their harsh breathing and the feel of the beating heart beneath her palm.
