MacAlister - Taming The Scotsman Part 10

It was barely after dawn, with the light just creeping through the village. This was one of her favorite times of the day. She almost always woke up before anyone else, and she treasured the times where she was alone in the world.

But she wasn't alone, she realized as she neared the small stream that ran behind the cottage.

Ewan had beaten her awake and to her spot.

She froze the instant she saw him in the early morning misty light. His black hair slicked back from his sculpted face, he was waist-deep in the water, holding a knife to his throat as he shaved himself.

Her gaze feasted on the sight of his tanned flesh. On the way the waves of the water lapped against his bare, tawny skin, caressing and teasing it to a fine sheen.

She traced the line of his muscles with her eyes, watching the way his body bunched and flexed with every move he made.

Aye, Ewan MacAllister was the finest-looking man she'd ever beheld.

Always sheltered at home, Nora had never known such desire for a man, but she felt it now. Felt it in every part of her body. Her heart that raced, her lungs that struggled to breathe, her legs that threatened to buckle.

What was it about this unrefined ruffian that he appealed to her so? He wasn't the kind of man to woo her with poetry. Nor the kind of man who would sit for hours with her while she listened to a bard sing.

Like as not, he'd be like her father, ever impatient with a minstrel. She couldn't count the times her father had forced her mother up to their room rather than sit and listen to a bard's tale.

Her father was ever quick to bellow for her mother and never content to sit and listen to others.

Her mother, G.o.d bless her soul, was ever patient and caring as a wife should be. Whenever her father wanted to retire for the night, her mother went, even if she was in the midst of something else.

But Nora wanted more than that.

She didn't want to be the dutiful wife who lost herself to her husband's bidding. She wanted to live her life on her own terms.

When she closed her eyes, she saw her perfect man. A man of culture and thought who would read with her and compose poetry and songs.

Not one who stormed off to attack trees with an ax every time he became angry.

But as she stared at Ewan's bare form, she had to admit that attacking trees had certainly done fine things for his body. It had given him powerful shoulders that bulged with strength. Thick, muscular thighs that were dusted with dark, curly hair, and a chest that rippled with masculine beauty.

Suddenly he turned around and caught sight of her standing in the middle of a circle of trees.

Nora froze, unable to move.

Unable to breathe.

Time seemed to have stopped as they stared at each other. But what struck her most was just how gorgeous his face was when clean-shaven. The graceful lines of it...

If not for his size and manly presence, he might even have been called pretty.

But there was nothing pretty or feminine about the man before her.

He was raw masculinity incarnate.

"Did you need something, la.s.s?" he asked.

The deep tenor of his voice s.h.i.+vered through her. Nora swallowed and tried to speak, only to find herself strangely mute.

"Is something amiss?" he asked, taking a step toward her.

Nora squeaked at the thought of his coming out of the water. If she was this affected by nothing more than his bare chest and back, she shuddered at what the sight of him awake and completely unadorned would do to her.

When he'd been naked in his bed yesterday, he hadn't seemed this...

Large!

"I'm fine," she said, spinning around and running back toward the cottage.

Ewan smiled as he watched her haste.

So the la.s.s had caught him bathing...

He smiled even more widely as his body reacted instantly to the thought of her staring at him. She had a bold, unflinching gaze. One that hadn't caused her to blush or giggle.

She had stared at him like a woman who knew her mind and her desires.

The thought made his body jerk awake with desire. Made his blood turn to lava.

Imagine taking a woman such as her to his bed...

The thought was quickly followed by another. He would never know her. Not like that. Even without his promise to Kieran, there was the small matter that she was promised to another.

He'd taken a woman from a man once before. He would never make that mistake again.

Isobail had a.s.sured Kieran that her betrothed, Robby MacDouglas, didn't care for her, just as she had convinced Ewan that his brother didn't love her. In the end both Robby and Kieran had been willing to sacrifice their lives for the viperous b.i.t.c.h. While Kieran had chosen to die, Robby had fought a feud that had almost destroyed both the MacAllister and the MacDouglas clans.

No woman was worth that.

Nora belonged to Ryan.

No matter what Ewan felt for her, he would honor her as if she were already the man's wife, his own desires be d.a.m.ned.

Nora spent the rest of the morning avoiding Ewan. Something that proved extremely difficult once they left the brewer's house and were again on their way toward Lochlan's castle.

"You are so strangely quiet, la.s.s, that you've got me fearing for your health. Are you sure you're all right?"

"Quite well," she hastened to a.s.sure him. He'd asked that question entirely too many times.

The last thing she intended to tell him was thathe was what was the matter with her. Who knew that the absence of his beard would make such a significant change to his face?

He no longer looked quite so off-putting or beastly. There was an elegant grace now to his features. An air of powerful predator.

Why would any man with a face so breathtaking seek to bury it under hair? Surely there should be a law to prohibit such a crime.

And those broad shoulders of his...

They were decadent. Powerful. They rolled with his movements, making her hot and needful as she imagined brus.h.i.+ng her hand over his smooth skin.

Touching his ebony hair again.

All day long she'd been trying to banish the images of him that she had in her head.

The sight of him naked and sprawled in his bed. The sound of his deep laugh.

The way he'd tasted last night when they kissed.

And most of all, the sight of him this morning in the stream.

Aye, but it was hard to focus on anything else while she was plagued by such wanton things.

At least he hadn't drunk any ale this morning, nor had he accepted Aenos's offer to take it with him when they left. It appeared he did intend to remain sober while they were together.

That was most definitely a good thing.

They pa.s.sed the morning quietly until they happened upon a peddler who was coming down the road toward them. The man's wagon was heaped with cloth, boxes and kegs. A small, muscled brown horse pulled the loaded wagon while the man walked before it, holding on to the horse's bridle.

He was a short, pudgy man with kind brown eyes, who smiled and tipped his cap to them.

Nora's heart quickened at the sight of his wares.

"May we stop?" she asked Ewan.

"Why?"

"I wish to look. Please?"

Ewan reluctantly stopped the peddler for her and helped her from her horse. He did his best not to be short with her again, but it wasn't easy.

The lady was much a magpie whose head was turned by any item she found pa.s.singly attractive or interesting. But at least today she hadn't made him stop while she dawdled with flowers.

He expected her to grab one of the costly furs that was draped over the back of the wagon.

Instead she approached the side where the peddler had four lutes tied.

She ran her hand over them as if they were the most precious objects on earth.

A chill stole down his spine as he watched her gentle caress and wondered what her hand would feel like gliding down his spine...

"Oh, these are beautiful," she gasped.

"My lady likes the lute?" the peddler asked.

"Aye."

Ewan scoffed at her enthusiasm, even though her bright face enchanted him. "They are only lutes, Nora.

They're not even particularly good ones."

She scowled at him. "What do you know of them?"

Her face softened as she looked back at the cheap willowwood lutes. "They are beautiful, aren't they?"

she asked the peddler.

Ewan shook his head at her as she plucked one of the strings.

The peddler pulled one of the lutes from the wagon and handed it to her. "Would you like to hold it?"

"Oh aye. Thank you so much." Nora's face beamed brightly, much like the sun itself. She was a beguiling creature. Filled with as much merriment as he was with ill humor.

"Have you played much?" the peddler asked her.

"Nay. My father said I played like a maid wringing a cat's neck. So one night after I went to bed, he used my lute for kindling." Nora cradled the lute in her lap and strummed an ill-fated chord.

The discordant sound made everyone cringe.

Her father was right. It did indeed sound like someone wringing a cat's neck.

"Let me have that," Ewan said, pulling it from her hands before she tortured them further.

Nora started to protest until he took the lute in his own hands and quickly tuned it.

Stunned, she c.o.c.ked her head and watched the expert way Ewan held and strummed the instrument.

Why, he didn't even need a pitch pipe to tune it like the minstrels she had seen in her father's home.

"You play?" she asked rhetorically.

He answered by playing "Bad Roy's Anthem."

Nora gaped at his expertise. Who knew the big, giant bear would be so talented?

She'd never heard anyone play better. His large hands made the chords with an ease that bespoke years of tender practice. Fierce and strong hands that had also chopped and piled up wood the night before.

Hands that belonged to a man wholly unrefined.

Wholly unrefined and yet strangely delectable. Even more delectable now that she'd heard his skill.

He handed it back to her.

She smiled up at him as she tested the strings with her hands.

"How much for it?" he asked the peddler.

Nora paused at his words.