Faye remained pressed up to the doorframe, her ear locked against the narrow gap to catch the low rumble of Ewan’s voice.
She hated being pushed behind a door again, set back from the action, but she understood Ewan’s reasoning. She was who he had married instead of the one named Blair. Surely, her presence would be a slap in the face.
But who was Blair, and why had Ewan not mentioned her? Apparently, he would have wed her had Faye not been dragged to the highlands. The idea of another woman crowded into Faye’s thoughts.
She strained to listen, her heart caught in her chest for the man who had so bravely saved her several times over, who cared for her and protected her. The man who was slowly chipping at the stone surrounding her heart.
The man who might want someone else.
“What is amiss?” a familiar feminine voice asked. “Why are ye listening?”
Faye spun around, grateful for the interruption of her thoughts. She didn’t need to consider her feelings for her husband or his for another. Especially when she ought not to have feelings for him at all.
“The Chieftain of the Gordon clan claims Ewan shouldn’t have wed me due to a contract negotiated between them for Ewan’s marriage to Mistress Blair.” Faye tried to ignore the pinch of guilt in her chest that her union to Ewan had caused so much difficulty.
When she’d wed him, she’d never once considered what he’d given up. She’d only thought of her own loss. Now, she realized the depth of his sacrifice.
Moiré pressed her ear to the other side of the doorframe. “I feared the Gordons might be displeased.”
“Verra well,” Ewan’s low timbre sounded in the Great Hall, silencing the two women. “I’ll allow marriage between Cruim and Mistress Blair.”
Moiré gave a sharp gasp. She slapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with shock.
“When the lass arrives, they’ll be wed,” Ewan said. There was an unmistakable tension to his usually smooth voice. “Until then, ye may stay in the castle as my guest.”
Servants were summoned to escort the Gordon men to rooms in the castle and see to their comfort. Faye glanced at Moiré, who dropped her hand and shook her head. Before either could speak, the heavy fall of footsteps came toward them. Both women leapt back from the door as it swung inward and brought Ewan standing before them, his expression tense.
“What happened?” Faye asked innocently.
He scowled. “Dinna act as though ye were no’ listening at the door.”
Heat touched her cheeks at having been caught.
He directed his ire toward Moiré. “Did ye know about this?”
She shook her head so vigorously, her hair brushed across her rose-colored kirtle. Admittedly, the color was fine on her. It complimented the rich brown of her eyes and made her lips and cheeks pink against her fair skin.
“Do ye think…mayhap…” Moiré linked her hands together and stared at her interlaced fingers. “Was anything said about a union between Finn and me? Mayhap my union could…”
The ferocity on Ewan’s face dissolved into compassion. “There wasna any mention of Finn.”
“Oh.” Moiré tucked her chin lower, hiding her face. “Of course, thank ye for informing me,” she mumbled.
Her disappointment cut into Faye.
Ewan must have understood his cousin’s pain as well, for he put a hand to her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Moiré.”
She stepped back with a mumbled apology and practically ran down the hall.
Faye looked questioningly at Ewan, seeking answers not only about Moiré but about Ewan’s uncle and the woman he was supposed to marry before she was pushed in his path.
He indicated she should follow him and led her to his chamber. “I dinna wish to risk being overhead,” he said once the door was closed. “Especially with the Gordon clan about.”
“Ye were betrothed before me?” Faye asked, addressing her most pressing concern first.
Ewan rubbed the back of his neck. “The contract wasna signed, but aye, I was to be betrothed to Mistress Blair.”
His reply nipped at Faye’s heart; a foreign hurt she didn’t want to think too hard upon. And yet, she had to know… “Did ye love her?”
He offered an affectionate smile. “Nay, ’twas simply to secure an alliance.”
“And ye’re displeased that now yer uncle is wedding her?” Faye frowned. If Ewan did not care for the woman, why was he so flustered?
Ewan tugged off his doublet, so he wore only his leine and trews. “My uncle, Cruim, has always had his eye on the chieftainship.”
Faye had not met the man yet. He’d not been to the castle in her time there, at least not that she’d been aware of. Nor had he attended her rushed wedding.
“The man is surprisingly clever,” Ewan continued. “While I was considering arranging for a union with Mistress Blair, Cruim began negotiations for a marriage between Moiré and Gordon’s eldest son, Finn. Apparently, Moiré has had her heart set on him for some time.”
Faye poured a goblet of wine from a flagon on a nearby table and brought it to her husband, who accepted it with a grateful nod. “I take it the betrothal did not work out,” Faye said.
Ewan shook his head. “We couldna come to terms that we both agreed on for Moiré to wed. But I have my suspicions that no matter what I offered, they would deem it insufficient.”
Faye directed Ewan to a chair by the fire, intent on making him feel better. As he had done for her earlier that day after Torish.
“Why is that?” She asked.
Ewan sank into the chair with a grateful sigh. “Finn dinna want to marry her. I kept it from Moiré, of course, but I suspect she knows.”
Faye winced for the other woman as her suspicions at Moiré’s hurt were confirmed.
“And now yer uncle is seeking an alliance with the Gordons once more, but for his own benefit.” Faye slid her hands down the back of Ewan’s neck, kneading the tense muscles there.
She did the same ministrations for her mother often, when she suffered from overwhelming moments of grief at Da’s loss. It didn’t matter what form of tincture or tea Clara made for their mother, nothing had worked as well as massaging the tension from Mum’s wiry body.
Ewan sighed in pleasure, and his shoulders relaxed somewhat. “He passes his intent to marry Mistress Blair as placating the Gordons, but ’tis deeper than all that. I know it.”
“Might he take yer position by force with their aid?” Faye glided her hands down the sides of his spine, slowly working through the bands of powerful muscle.
Ewan dropped his head forward to allow her better access. “If he attacks outright, ’tis possible. But it would be difficult considering my alliance with yer grandda’s clan. But if I die, Cruim would inherit my chieftainship. I worry what might happen to the clan if such a thing occurred.”
“Unless we have a son,” Faye surmised.
Ewan leaned his head back and took her hand. With a wicked grin, he dragged it down his chest and stomach to where his arousal strained eagerly against his trews.
Desire dampened her center and left her hot with immediate lust.
“We should ensure I get with child soon.” Faye cupped her hand around the hard column.
“We can start now.” He caught her wrist and gently drew her around the chair as his fingers worked to free his cock. “Come to me, wife.”
She climbed atop his lap and sunk down onto his length with a sigh of pleasure. They gripped one another with desperate passion, arching and thrusting as she rode him until they both cried out in shared pleasure. Later, as their hearts calmed from the intensity of their coupling, Faye considered the possibility of a bairn in earnest.
It was a strange thing to ponder, as it was nothing she’d ever wanted before. Quite the opposite, rather. Children were loud, time-consuming and filthy.
An image popped in her mind of Ewan holding their babe, his face sweet and tender as it often was when he spoke to her. An unwanted warmth filled her chest.
It was more than a bairn with Ewan that appealed to her—it was the man himself. And that held the strong possibility of leading to love, which Faye knew could hurt her worse than anything else.
Having the Gordons stay at Dunrobin disrupted the easy comfort of daily life. Especially when Ewan felt he could not leave the castle. Not when another clan occupied a good portion of it.
More than anything, he most regretted the discomfort Moiré clearly felt in the presence of Finn. She often disappeared, feigning excuses so that she might go to her chamber.
As Gordon had predicted, his daughter arrived two mornings later with her maid and several warriors in tow. Which meant the wedding would be held the following day, thanks be to God. Then the Gordons would finally leave, and Cruim would remove himself to his manor with his new wife.
It was an awkward thing, however, to have a woman nearby whom Ewan had intended to wed. Mistress Blair’s gray-blue eyes lingered upon him, often like a weight he could feel in his soul.
As the castle bustled with activity for the upcoming nuptials, Ewan often escaped into his solar. It was truly bad indeed if he was willing to lose himself in the transfer of Berwick to Ross rather than hear one more question about food preparations or minstrels for hire. He didn’t give a goat’s arse about any of it.
The door to his solar creaked open, and he glanced up to find Mistress Blair peeking in his room. Her curly red hair was bound up, revealing her long, slender neck. “May I speak with ye?” she asked in her husky voice.
He intentionally looked behind her. “Where is yer maid?”
“I dinna want anyone to know I’ve come to see ye,” she replied. “I wanted to speak privately.”
Ewan swallowed down his displeasure. After all, he had rejected her as his wife. He knew what that had done to Moiré. The least he could do was talk to Mistress Blair and keep her confidence.
Ewan nodded and indicated the seat opposite him. She closed the door behind her and strolled past the chair, her hands tucked behind her back as she explored the solar.
“I apologize for having so abruptly ended our marriage negotiations,” Ewan said.
She faced him abruptly. “What is it about me ye find so detestable?” She lifted her small, pointed chin. “Am I unpleasing to the eye?”
He stifled a swell of irritation. After all, he had decided to wed another. The least he could do was explain his reasonings. “Nay. Ye’re bonny. Ye always have been. ’Tis never been ye, but negotiations between clans with dowries and threats.”
The stiff set of Mistress Blair’s shoulders relaxed. “I see. Then it wasna me?”
He shook his head.
She twisted her fingers in front of her waist. She wore a gray kirtle that made her gleam like silver. “I believe yer uncle intends to set my family against ye, Ewan.”
He started at the use of his Christian name. He’d met her only a handful of times in the course of the negotiations with her father.
“What has he done?” Ewan asked.
“Ye mean, what will he do?” She stepped closer, and the weight of her silk skirt nudged at his shins. Too close.
Ewan edged back slightly. “What do ye know?”
Mistress Blair leaned toward him and rested her hand boldly on his chest. “We’d be good bedfellows, ye and I.”
Ewan gently lifted her hand from his chest. “I am faithful to my wife.”
“We would be a perfect fit.” Her gaze slid down his body and back up to his face. “Passionate, eager.”
“I’m faithful to my wife,” Ewan repeated. “I believe this conversation is—”
“I could report to ye what it is yer uncle does,” Mistress Blair rushed. “Ye need only take me into yer bed.”
Ewan shook his head. “I’m loyal to the woman I married. I think it best ye leave.”
“Ye’ll grow tired of her,” Mistress Blair said. “Men always do.” She tilted her face confidently up as if she meant to kiss him or be kissed in return. “When ye grow weary of her, ye’ll find my bed warm for ye and my tongue loosened with secrets.”
With that, she swept away from him and quit the room, leaving the air scented with a cloying powder scent that stuck in the back of his throat.
Ewan clenched his hand into a fist. Clearly, his uncle did have a plan. There were secrets about, and he would find a way to learn them, something that had nothing to do with Mistress Blair.
The door to his solar pushed open again, this time revealing Faye. “What did she want?” There was a feigned sweetness to the way she asked him that told him she did not care for the idea of the other woman being in a room alone with her husband.
“She wanted me to lay with her,” Ewan said honestly.
Faye blinked as the color rose in her cheeks. She glared over her shoulder at the closed door, as though she meant to shoot the spear of her gaze like a weapon at Mistress Blair.
Faye’s ire snapped back to Ewan. “Ye didn’t—”
He had to laugh at that. “I’m faithful to ye, lass. I always will be.” He came around the desk and pulled her into his arms.
She turned her face from his.
“Are ye jealous?” he teased. “Even as I tell ye ye’ve no need to worry?”
“Nay.” It was a lie, evident in the flash in her blue eyes. “Though she is lovely.”
“No’ nearly as lovely as ye.” Ewan eased Faye’s face toward him, her skin soft under his fingertips. “Besides, ye leave me depleted, lass. How would I ever have the energy for a leman?”
“Mind yerself.” She playfully poked his chest.
“I do need yer help though,” he said in all seriousness.
She lifted her brow with apparent skepticism. “I’ll no’ do anything to help that woman.”
Ewan shook his head. “Me. And the clan. Mistress Blair alluded to something my uncle planned. She wouldna tell me after I refused her.”
Faye smirked. “And ye want me to find what it could be,” she surmised.
“Aye. I believe plans are afoot, and we need to ensure we listen at the wedding for what we can learn.” Ewan gritted his back teeth. If he could catch Cruim in a plot to try to kill him, he would have justification to banish him from the clan.
As careful as Cruim was, he would have to slip up sometime. When he did, Ewan would be there to see him stumble and ensure he paid the price for his treachery.