MacAlister - Taming The Scotsman Part 28

Catarina smiled at that. "Life is short, Nora. Like my mother before me, I believe in seizing what you want while you're young enough to enjoy it. All we have to console us in old age is happy memories, and I want my fair share of them. Ewan needs you. I can see it in his eyes. You make him laugh when nothing else does. How can that be wrong?"

Nora sighed at the thought of his deep, rumbling laugh. "He has beautiful laughter, doesn't he?"

"Aye, and a smile to match it."

Nora's heart fluttered as she remembered Ewan's tentative smile. The way his face looked when it softened.

He was a gorgeous man.

"Oh Catarina, I hope you are right. I never antic.i.p.ated liking him, especially not after the way I met him while he was drunk in his cave. I thought he was a great, nasty beast. But he's so much more than that."

Catarina laced ribbons in her hair. "What made you seek him out?"

"My maid suggested it. She said only a MacAllister would have the ability to get me to England. She said they would have the connections that would allow them to transport me to my aunt without my father's interference."

"You must have been scared."

"A little," she confessed. "It helped that my maid talked one of my father's men into going with us. He balked at first, then conceded. He said if I was bound to go, better he keep an eye on me than I be harmed. If anyone ever learned he'd known about my flight and I was hurt while escaping, they would hold him responsible."

"True, no doubt."

Nora stared at the floor as her mind replayed everything that had happened to her since she started her quest to flee Scotland.

The miracle she had found in Ewan. A man who listened to her.

A man who touched her heart and her soul.

Almost everyone else she'd ever known had merely humored her while ignoring her questions. She would start to speak, and a glazed look would quickly come over them.

Ewan never had that look.

He always appeared interested in her and what she had to say.

But would he ever allow her to stay with him? If what Sorcha said was true, he would spend the rest of his life alone, trying to make amends to his brother's ghost.

"Cat? Do you think it's possible to get Ewan to..." She trailed off, unable to say anything more.

The thought of losing him was just too painful.

"To what?"

"Nothing. 'Twas a bit of foolishness."

Catarina stood back and looked her over. "You're perfect. A complete vision."

She handed Nora a handheld looking gla.s.s.

Nora stared at herself. Her hair had been swept up and left to fall haphazardly around her face. Catarina had added kohl to her eyes and henna to her lips.

She looked strange and ethereal.

"Think you Ewan will like it?"

"There's only one way to find out."

Ewan lay in silence on the too small bed, missing the sound of Nora's voice. Strange that he should now find the quiet night oppressive when he had always taken solace in it.

The stillness rang in his ears and made his heart heavy as he imagined what Nora would be saying if she were there with him.

He held the lute in his hands and smiled at the memory of her practicing with it. She so loved this worthless piece of wood.

How he wished he could have bought her one worthy of her devotion.

A fine lute made of good rosewood and polished to a fine sheen with gold frets and beautiful carvings.

Listless with his want of her, Ewan idly strummed it. He'd tried earlier to give it to her, but Catarina had shooed him away from their room, telling him they couldn't be disturbed.

Somewhat stung, he'd left and had missed her ever since.

How could that be? He'd lived the whole of his life without her, so why now did he find an hour without her hard to bear?

He toyed with the strings, his thoughts drifting, his body aching.

A knock sounded on his door.

"Come in."

He expected to see one of the men, but it was Nora who opened his door.

His heart stopped. She wore a s.h.i.+mmery pale gown that clung to her soft curves. The material was so light that when she walked, it slid up to reveal her bare feet and ankles.

Her pale blond hair looked sublime caught up on her head. It looked as if it were ready to tumble down around her shoulders at any moment.

He couldn't breathe as he stared at her, his mouth gaping. She looked like some fey creature come to capture him, and at the moment, he could think of nothing better than being ensnared by her.

"Play for me?" she asked.

Ewan managed to close his mouth and did as she asked.

To his dismay and delight, she began to dance to the music. And it wasn't just any dance. She rolled her hips and moved her arms like some Saracen courtesan.

She was all fluid grace as she spun about the room. The skirt of her dress flared out, showing her legs off to perfection. His heartbeat hinged on every move she made, every gesture.

His body erupted into fire as he watched her He needed her in a way that made him burn from the inside out.

"Where did you learn to do that?" His voice sounded strange even to his own ears.

Her face falling, she paused. "Cat taught me Do you not like it?"

He nodded as he struggled for breath. "Aye, la.s.s. I like it. A lot."

She smiled at him and started dancing again And as she danced, she started pulling off panels of the dress...

Ewan's throat went dry.

She lifted the hem of her skirt and crawled up on top of his bed to rest on her knees. Och, how she looked wild and wanton there. Like some manifestation of his dreams.

Not real, but a fey creation sent to torment him.

She pulled off another section of the dress and wrapped it around his neck, then used it to pull him close enough for her to kiss him.

Ewan moaned at the taste of her as every piece of him screamed out for the lady before him.

She was unlike anyone else on this earth.

He tossed the lute aside and gathered her forcefully into his arms.

Drunk with her sweet floral scent, he buried his head between the deep valley of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s so that he could taste the creamy skin.

She pulled at his s.h.i.+rt until he shrugged it off.

Nora hissed as she ran her hands over his shoulders and down his arms, where she flexed her hand over his muscles. "I love the way you look."

He felt the same way.

She placed her hands on his biceps. "Now move your arms."

He did, and she bit her lip as if in the throes of pure s.e.xual bliss.

"I'm not doing anything, Nora."

"I know, but the way your muscles feel..." She purred at him.

He shook his head in wonderment of her.

She laced her hands through his hair and nibbled his lips. How he loved the way this woman kissed him.

The way she looked at him as if he were the only man in the world to her.

She pushed him back on the bed and straddled his waist. "Tell me how to please you."

"You do that just by being with me."

She smiled. "Do I?"

He nodded.

Her smile widened as she rubbed herself against his swollen groin. He groaned at the feel of her there and imagined how much better she would soon feel as he removed his trewes.

"Is there nothing else I can do?"

"That is a good start, my love." He reached up and unlaced her dress until her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were free to his starving gaze.

Ewan held her close, his heart pounding.

How strange, the only place he'd ever felt at home was in her arms. She made him feel warm and welcomed.

No one else had ever offered him so much.

Marry her.

How he wished he could. But he didn't know who she was. Who her family was.

Does it matter?

Aye, it could. Politics was a large part of his family's life, and any decision he made would affect all of them. Even the simple act of running off with Isobail had caused a feud that had killed countless members of their clan.

That feud had taken the lives of almost all his sister-in-law's brothers. It had caused years of deaths and property waste. Total devastation.

He wasn't free to just pick a la.s.s and marry her.

Everything he did could have a major impact on his clan and his brothers' lives.

And yet even though he knew that, he couldn't bring himself to get out of this bed and leave her. She was like some missing part of himself.

A vital part of himself.

Nora watched Ewan's face as he pulled back from their kiss to look down at her. His arms were braced on each side of her, and he stared at her as if trying to memorize her face.

There was a dark, deep sadness to him tonight. One that seemed more severe than the other times she had seen that look on his face.

"What is on your mind, my lord, that you look as if the Second Coming is upon you?"

"Tell me who you are, Nora. Who is your family?"

"Does it matter so much? Can I not be a peasant?"

"Are you?"

"If I said aye, would you toss me out?"

He ran his forefinger over the arch of her brow and studied her face as if he were trying to discern the truth.

"Nay," he breathed, "I would not."

"Then pretend I am peasant born. Let me be a gypsy like Catarina with no family ties to bind me."

"And when your father finds you?"