MacAlister - Taming The Scotsman Part 3

She'd pleaded women's troubles and made her bed up to look as if she slept. She hoped it would be a few hours before her mother came to check on her and discovered the note.

It might be enough time.

You should never have left that note!

Aye, but she hadn't wanted her father to worry overmuch. She'd thought that mentioning Ewan's name would both scare and soothe her father into leaving her be or at least hesitating before he sought her.

It hadn't sounded so daft when her maid had helped her come up with the plan.

Och, this was a bad idea all around now that she thought it over again. But she'd been desperate, and as her mother said, desperate people do desperate things. Not to mention her maid had encouraged her to seek out Ewan.

Surely such a man as a MacAllister wouldn't leave a lady in such dire distress. 'Tis said they have each sworn to protect all those downtrodden, and I can think of no one more downtrodden than a lady married to Lord Ryan. Seek him out, my lady, and whatever you do, don't let him sway you from this course.

And so here she was on top of a mountain with a man who looked as if he'd rather have his head pried apart than tolerate her company for another moment.

Nora watched Ewan move about angrily. He was a fearsome beastie, and yet she wasn't truly afraid of him. There was a deep sadness to his eyes and an air of ill humor. Still, other than being gruff, he didn't appear mean or abusive.

At least he listened to her.

Somewhat, anyway.

He moved to stand beside her, and she had to crane her neck to look up at him. "Whatever did they feed you to make you grow so large?"

An amused gleam came to his glacial eyes. "A great deal ofbreast milk."

Nora gasped at his response. "You take great delight in shocking people, don't you?"

His softened features made him appear almost boyish. Charming. But it didn't last long before his face settled back into the frown she was getting used to. "What I delight in is people leaving me alone. I find that by being shocking it often causes them to flee my presence posthaste."

"I offered to leave."

He growled at her. "Come, we might as well get started. The sooner I get you to Lochlan, the sooner I can come back here."

"And mope?"

He stiffened at that. "I'm not moping."

"Oh, forgive me. See, where I come from an upside-down smile means you're frowning, and if you're frowning while withdrawn from everyone and everything, it means you're moping. I guess here in your cave, the world is backward and a frown means you're happy."

"Do you always talk this much?"

"Aye, especially when people, usually men, try to ignore me."

He gave her a droll stare. "What a wonderful trait to possess."

She ignored his sarcasm. "I personally think so. My aunt calls me charming."

"Your Aunt Eleanor?"

"Aye."

"And when, pray tell, did you journey to England to meet with her?"

"Oh, never. My mother doesn't travel well, so Eleanor has come to us several times over the years to visit and catch up."

"And no one else in Scotland knows of this?"

"My father always knows, as do our servants, but Eleanor prefers to travel in disguise. Seems something happened once when she was traveling as queen, and now she makes sure no one knows who she is or when she travels."

"I see."

He said the words, but she could tell he didn't mean them. He thought she was insane. Well, she had been called worse. Mayhap if he thought her a bit light in the head, he might be swayed to turn his back while she went on her way.

It was a thought...

He led her from the cave.

"Have you ever been to England?" she asked as she hastened her steps to keep up with his long, dangerous stride. "My mother says London is a dirty place that is hot in the summer and very crowded."

Ewan groaned aloud as he secured the door to his home. This was going to be a long trip if she insisted on prattling the whole way there. Already his head felt as though it would splinter.

He turned and found her so close to him that he almost ran her over.

She blushed rather prettily, then moved aside. "Will we be off then?"

Grimacing, he rubbed his forehead with his hand.

"Have you an ache in your head?"

He paused and opened one eye to look at her. "Aye."

"Here," she said, taking his arm and leading him to sit on a rock off to the side. "Sit down and let me help."

Mistrustful, he grimaced. "What can you do?"

"You'd be amazed. My father says 'tis a gift the good Lord gave me to help alleviate the damage I cause."

Ewan frowned even more at her words as he sat down. "Is your father always so harsh with you?"

"Nay, he's a good man. I just tend to unnerve him from time to time."

He gave a short snort at that, not doubting it in the least. This woman could try the patience of Job himself.

As soon as he was seated, she ran her hands through his hair, ma.s.saging his scalp.

Och now, that felt rather nice. Her hands were warm and gentle, and her fingers deftly soothed the pain from his head as she tugged lightly at his hair.

Before long, he found himself greatly relaxed and much calmer. The tight band of pain loosened.

A man could get used to this. And for the first time he noticed the pleasant scent of her. She smelled of fresh lilacs and warm suns.h.i.+ne, a scent that was as fetching as the lady herself.

She was a pretty little maid. Her brat had fallen down around her shoulders to form a shawl while she tended him. Her long blond hair fair glistened, and her figure was trim and ample enough to be well worth a good tupping.

His body reacted instantly to the thought of her underneath him. To the thought of him tasting her slightly parted lips...

Ewan sucked his breath in sharply as he hardened against his will.

"Here now," he said, rising to his feet. "Enough of this. We have a trip to make."

"Is your head any better?"

"Aye," he said gruffly. It most definitely was. However, it was his other region that now pained him.

Clearing his throat, he headed for the small trail that would lead them down the mountain to the stable where his horse was kept.

Nora followed after him, all the while noticing the ease with which he moved, the manly grace. He was tall and strong and as surefooted as any man she'd ever seen.

When he wasn't snarling at her, he was actually quite handsome, even with his thick whiskers covering his face.

His curly black hair needed a combing, and for some reason she couldn't fathom, she wanted to offer to brush her fingers through it so that she could remove the becoming tangles.

He reminded her of some great, hulking bear, what with his ma.s.sive form, snarling tones and gruffness.

It was obvious that he and the word "refinement" were complete and utter strangers, and yet there was something about this rugged, tormented man she found strangely captivating, and she wondered if he'd always been so morose.

Surely as a lad, he'd been laughing and carefree.

Hadn't he?

"Have you always been so large?" she asked.

He cast an evil glare over his shoulder. "Aye. I came from my mother's womb at full height. The shock of it almost killed her."

She grimaced at his humor. "Do you always walk so fast? I can barely keep up with your strides. I feel like a small child running after a parent."

When she stumbled on the rocks, Ewan quickly caught her and set her back on her feet.

To her chagrin, her hands went flat against the strength of his arms, and she felt the incredible power of his body. The man was a wall of well-toned muscles. One that made her breath catch in her throat and her body erupt into heat.

Against her will, an image of his nude form spread out invitingly across his bed went through her mind.

Aye, she knew all too well what primal masculine charms were concealed by his saffron s.h.i.+rt and trewes.

All six-foot-six strength of it.

His was a body surely made for sinning.

"Take care, my lady," he said sharply. "I have no wish to take you home mangled."

In spite of his rough words, there was a gentleness in his touch that belied his tone. Her ogre wasn't the fierce beastie he let on to be. She was rather sure of it.

"Why do you wish to live out here alone?" she asked as he withdrew from her and took up his lead again.

"I like my solitude."

"But doesn't it get lonely?"

He hesitated. "Nay."

She learned something about him then. His nose wrinkled ever so slightly when he lied.

"Don't you miss being with your brothers?"

A deep, dark sadness fell over his face, and his entire body tensed. "My lady, would you please hold your tongue for a bit? I'm not used to conversing, and I find myself quite worn out by it."

"I shall refrain if you will answer one more question."

"And that is?"

"Why does everyone say you killed your brother?"

Chapter 3.

"Because Idid kill my brother."

If Nora lived a thousand years, she would never forget the look on Ewan's face as he said those anguished words to her. She saw his grief. His pain.

His wasn't the face of a man who had killed his brother. At least not on purpose.

It was the face of a man who was tormented by the loss. One who would do anything to have his brother back.

"What happened?"

His blue eyes turned arctic as he moved away from her. "What do you care? You didn't know him.

h.e.l.l's toes, you barely know me and I've no wish to speak of it."

She would respect that. It was more than obvious that he felt deeply about his brother and whatever had happened to him.

Over the years, she'd heard a number of stories about the death of Kieran MacAllister. Some claimed Ewan had cut his brother's throat while he slept. Others said he'd cut out his heart.

Some were much more lewd.