Taming the Scotsman

by Kinley MacGregor

  Ewan bolted to her side and forced her prancing mare away from her. "Are you harmed, lass?"

  She shoved her skirts down to cover herself. "Nothing more than my dignity, I assure you."

  To her surprise, he helped her to her feet and gently brushed the dirt from her skirts.

  "I dinna mean for my ill humor to cause you hurt, Nora. Here…" He picked her up as if she weighed nothing at all, and set her on the back of her horse.

  Completely dumbstruck by the turnaround of his actions, she watched in silence as he walked to his own horse. He slung one long leg over his mount with an ease that truly made her envious.

  Without a single care, he positioned himself on the horse's back and leaned forward to take the dangling reins he'd dropped when he dashed to her aid.

  Why did his horse stand there so patiently while hers felt the need to prance about and embarrass her?

  But what amazed her most was the way Ewan looked on top of his horse as he controlled the powerful, spirited steed with ease. He sat confidently in his saddle with a raw masculine aura that brought heat to her cheeks and a strange pounding to her chest.

  Even ill-kept and half drunk, he was an incredibly handsome man, and she couldn't help but wonder what he would look like with a bath, a shave and fresh clothes.

  Truly, he would be devastating.

  Perhaps his condition was a godsend after all. Dressed as he was, it was much easier for her to remember that he was nothing like the type of man she fancied.

  That he was as ill-refined as any man could possibly be.

  He lacked manners and couth.

  But what he lacked in personality, he more than made up for in looks…

  Nora!

  She shook herself mentally. Whatever was the matter with her? She was acting like her mother's maid, who was ever quick to chase after any passably handsome man, with no regard for the man's heart or the consequences of her actions.

  Nora always looked at what a man was on the inside. A pretty package might be beautiful to behold, but if it contained an asp, it was better cast aside than cradled to one's bosom.

  She'd lived her life always by that motto and no one, not even Ewan MacAllister, was going to change her.

  Without a glance back at her, Ewan clucked his tongue at his mount and spurred it forward.

  Once more, Nora was incredulous at his actions as he and the horse tore across the craggy land where any step could send both man and horse flying into peril.

  Why, they'd be lucky if the two of them didn't break their necks!

  "Well, if you be thinking that I intend to run after you at that careless pace, you've another think coming, Ewan MacAllister," she said, even though she knew he couldn't hear her.

  He might be Lord High-and-Mighty with a horse, but she wasn't so foolish with her life. She actually wanted to get to England in one piece.

  So she urged her mare forward and trotted much more carefully through the mossy landscape.

  When she reached the edge of the meadow, Ewan was stopped and waiting for her with one hand fisted on his hip. His horse strained restlessly against the bit, wanting to run some more, but Ewan held it under control.

  By his face, she could tell the man was greatly peeved at her.

  "Gathering wool, are we?" he asked in a sharp tone.

  "Nay," she said primly, "merely practicing irritating you, and by the looks of your face, I'd say I'm doing a rather remarkable job of it. My mother always says that any effort worth pursuing is worth pursuing well."

  Growling, he scratched at his beard and eyed her fiercely. She wondered if the man even knew how to smile, if he realized just how fierce a specter he looked.

  "You're a spoiled lass, aren't you?"

  "Aye," she said, tilting her head impishly. "My father says 'tis one of my more endearing qualities."

  He grunted at that, then turned his horse about and led her into the thick forest.

  This time his pace was much more reasonable. So much so that she had little trouble keeping up with him.

  Now that they were in closer proximity, Nora began asking the questions she'd wanted to ask earlier. "How long will it take us to reach your brother's castle? We are on MacAllister land, are we not?"

  "Aye," he said, his gaze focused on the area before them. "But we're on the outer reaches of it. I can usually make the ride in a day and a half, but if you insist on this pace, it will probably take us a year or more to reach it."

  She scoffed at him. "Do you always race about like a madman, then?"

  He didn't answer.

  Nora waited for almost a minute.

  He didn't acknowledge her in the least. He acted as if she didn't exist at all.

  "Excuse me," she said irritably. "I asked you a question, Ewan MacAllister."

  Again he didn't respond.

  Nora was appalled. "Do you always make it a habit to ignore questions?"

  He expelled a long-suffering sigh. "My lady, if you will travel in silence, I will give you anything you ask."

  "Will you take me to London?"

  "Nay."

  She clenched her teeth. So be it. If he wouldn't do as she requested, then she wouldn't do as he requested.

  "Fine weather out, is it not?" Nora looked about the forest. She spurred her horse forward so that she could ride apace of Ewan. "Quite refreshing and warm. I rather like this time of year. It was always my favorite. Why, I remember being a young girl. My mother and I would…"

  Ewan groaned as he realized the woman intended to chatter until he either killed her or gave in to her.

  His ears fair buzzed with her words, and though her voice was quite dulcet and beguiling, it would be even more so if heard sparingly.

  His head throbbed from the ale he had consumed. The bright sunlight made his eyes burn and his stomach sour. He'd planned on spending the rest of this wretched day in blissful stupor, lying abed.

  Now he was off to Lochlan's castle, where he would have to face his mother and brother. See their own grief over the death he had caused.

  To this day, he found it hard to look his mother in the eye. Though she had never said a single word against him, he knew, as she did, where the blame for Kieran's death lay.

  Squarely on his shoulders.

  His gut tightened. It seemed like only yesterday that he and Kieran had played at battle. That the two of them had dreamed and bragged of the men they would someday be.

  "Are you all right?" Nora's question intruded on his thoughts.

  "I am fine."

  "You don't look fine. You look sad and upset. Is my company truly so distasteful to you?"

  It was on his tongue to tell her aye, but the lie lodged in his throat. There was no need to be deliberately cruel to her. She couldn't help it if she wasn't entirely sane. Mayhap there was some cruelty in her past that had caused her delusions.

  Having lost his dreams so painfully, he would never rip them away from another.

  "Nay, my lady. I don't find you distasteful."

  "Just irritating."

  "Your words, not mine."

  She smiled at him then. It was a warm, soft smile that made her amber eyes glow. "So you find me charming?"

  He felt a strange urge to whimper at her insistence. "Are you incapable of silence?"

  "Are you incapable of speech?"

  "Aye. Completely and utterly."

  "Well, then you speak incredibly well for a mute. I once knew a mute. He lived in the local village and used to make the most divine shoes. They were so soft that you felt as if your feet were cushioned by pillows."

  Ewan did whimper as she continued with her tale of the cobbler and the village where he lived.

  This must be his penance.

  Surely the devil had sent this woman to him on this day to be his torment. There was no other explanation possible.

  She was his anchor. His millstone.

  It would have been kinder to have him hanged, drawn and quartered.

  For hours they t
raveled at a leisurely pace that was far more frustrating than productive. And all the while she prattled on endlessly about everything imaginable until he feared his ears would bleed from the stress.

  As night approached, Ewan looked about for a place to sleep. Someplace where he could put a wide distance between the two of them before he yielded to the urge to throttle her.

  He found them a small clearing beside a stream that could provide them with fresh water.

  "We're stopping here?" she asked as he reined his horse in. "To sleep until morning?"

  "Aye," he said gruffly, "unless it's your wont to ride through the night." Which he was more than willing to do. Anything to get her away from him as soon as possible so that he could return to his home and be at peace again.

  She bit her bottom lip as she looked about with pinched features. "Is there not someplace we could find a bed?"

  "Do you see a bed?"

  She narrowed her eyes at him. "Is there no village nearby?"

  "Aye, a few hours away, and the way you travel, more like half a day away."

  Nora stiffened. "The way I travel? What do you mean by that?"

  Ewan let out a tired breath. Was the woman blind not to know the answer to that? Or was she merely trying to aggravate him more?

  "How many times did we have to stop for you to attend your needs, my lady? Better still, how many times did I have to circle back to your side because you were off daydreaming instead of keeping up with me? I swear a—"

  "Do not swear at me. 'Tis rude."

  Ewan snapped his mouth shut and held his tongue from saying what he really thought. If she thought that was rude, he could certainly educate her on truly rude.

  He dismounted and led his horse toward the stream so that it could drink.

  Glancing back, he saw the look of horror on her face as she contemplated a night spent on the cold ground.

  And with that image came another. That of his gentle mother and sisters-in-law.

  Each one a lady who deserved only the best.

  As irritating as Nora was, she was someone's child, and she wasn't used to such hardship. No doubt she had never slept on anything save feather ticks and pillows.

  Weary and tired, he remounted his horse and headed back toward her.

  "Very well," he said. "If we travel back a bit the way we came, Lenalor isn't that far away."

  "Lenalor?"

  "It's a small village where we can eat a hot meal and you can sleep in comfort."

  Relief brightened her soft amber eyes. "How long will it take us to reach it?"

  "An hour, mayhap a little longer."

  "Is it a large village? I've never heard of Lenalor before. What will we find there?"

  Ewan raked his hand through his hair as she began barraging him with questions again. The lady was ever curious and never silent.

  "You're not answering me again, are you?" she asked after several minutes.

  "You ask too many questions. I can barely draw breath to answer one before you give me three more."

  "Then I shall ask them more slowly."

  "I'd rather you didn't."

  "Why?"

  "Because then I'd feel obligated to answer them."

  To his surprise, she laughed. It was a sweet sound, not high-pitched or silly. Rather it was deep and pleasant.

  "Poor Ewan, ever vexed by a maid's simple tongue. My father oft says that if he could harness the unfailing energy of my mouth and feed it to his troops, he would never have to worry over any army defeating them in battle. He says an hour of my chatter would keep an army battling for at least three or four days."

  Ewan looked back at her over his shoulder. "Those are harsh words."

  "Nay, not at all. My father loves me, and well I know it. I do talk too much. 'Tis a fault I've had all my life. My mother claims it's because I had no other sibling, and since she wanted to have a large family the good Lord gave her me. I might be a single child, but I make enough noise for several dozen."

  Ewan snorted at that.

  "Was that a laugh?"

  "Nay, it was a noise of agreement."

  "Mmm," she said as she stared at him. "You know, I'm thinking that must be why you're quiet."

  "What do you mean?"

  "You have so many brothers, I imagine it was rather difficult for you to be heard over them."

  "Believe me, I can make myself heard over them if needs be."

  She came to ride by his side. "I don't know," she said doubtfully. "Your voice is so deep that I doubt you could get much out of it in way of a shout."

  Nora lowered her voice to a deep pitch that sent a strange shiver down his spine. "See how when I talk like this, it's far too deep." She raised her voice back to its normal level. "Nay, no real bellow would be possible with that. Poor you, to be so cursed."

  "Poor me, indeed," he said under his breath, wondering why he was unimaginably amused by her.

  There was something refreshing about her now that he thought about it. She was rather brash and stood up to him in a way no one other than his brothers ever had.

  Most women were intimidated by his height and scowl. He'd scarce had to do more than turn a glance to a maid to send her flying off in the opposite direction, or worse, have her start giggling at him.

  He hated giggling.

  Nora never giggled.

  Her laugh was pleasant. Soothing.

  Then she began to hum.

  Ewan reined his horse in and stared at her.

  She paused and looked up at him with large eyes. "Why are you scowling at me now?"

  "You are interminably pleasant. How can you sit there and be so happy over nothing at all?"

  "It certainly beats being sad over nothing at all. Don't you agree?"

  He stiffened at her implication. "I happen to like being sad over nothing at all. I find it suits me."

  "A smile would suit you better. My mother always says that a smile is dressing for the face."

  "And I always say the face, much like the body, is best left naked."

  Her cheeks pinkened at his words. "Do you always speak so freely?"

  "I thought you said I don't speak at all."

  Her face fair glowed with impish delight. She was enjoying their verbal sparring, and though he hated to admit it, there was a part of him that liked it, too.

  "You're certainly an interesting dichotomy," she admitted. "I will give you that. A paragon of contradictions."

  "How so?"

  "Well, you live in a cave, which suggests a rugged demeanor, and at the same time you made sure that you brought the comforts from home. You act beastly to people and you treat beasts with care. What say you to that?"

  "I say that you have spent entirely too much time contemplating me."

  Just as he had spent entirely too much time contemplating her and the way the breeze played through her blond hair that peeped out from under her brat. The way the curve of her lips looked so moist and inviting.

  Lips that would probably be as soft as a rose's petals.

  Lips that would taste like heaven…

  He shook himself from that mental direction. The last time he had thought such foolishness, he had paid well for it.

  And so had Kieran.

  "Do you like living alone?" she asked suddenly. "I'm not sure if I would like it or not."

  Before he could respond, she added. "Of course, I talk so much you're probably thinking that I could carry on a conversation with myself for so long that like as not I'd never miss anyone else."

  He smiled in spite of himself.

  Nora gasped. "Was that a smile?"

  He cleared his throat. "Was what a smile?"

  "That strange curvature of your lips. You know, the one where the corners are actually going up instead of down."

  It was all he could do not to smile again. "I know not what you mean."

  It didn't work.

  She sat back with a satisfied look on her beautiful face. "You have a most pleasant smile, my lord. P
erhaps 'tis best to keep your smiles hidden. The rarity of them will make them all the more valuable. So I shall cherish that one until I gain another from you."

  She was the strangest woman he had ever met. Quite daft, point of fact.

  She continued to chatter, and he found himself listening to her in spite of himself. Listening to the cadence of her voice, the soft lulling quality of it.

  There was something soothing about the sound and the fact that she didn't really expect to converse with him, but was content just to prattle away on her own.

  But what disturbed him most was the craving she awoke inside him.

  He purposefully kept himself away from women. He'd been lied to enough to last out his lifetime, and he'd vowed long ago to let no other woman into his heart.

  So he had kept all women at a distance. Both physically and mentally.

  He hadn't been lured by any of their kind since Isobail. But something about Nora made him yearn again.

  He wanted to kiss her.

  To savor her.

  Worst of all, he wanted to hold her in his arms and let her sate the loneliness that lived inside him.

  What strange thoughts were these? He needed no comfort. He'd proven that. He deserved no comfort after what he'd done.

  Still, he took an odd pleasure in being in Nora's company.

  And before he even realized it, they reached Lenalor.

  At least here he could seek a modicum of peace from the lady at his side and the disturbing thoughts in his mind that she evoked.

  "What a quaint place," Nora said as they entered the small village. It was long after dark, and most of the people were inside for the night. Firelight could be seen from the cracks around doors and through the open windows they passed.

  "Not particularly large," Nora continued, "but still wholesome and serviceable enough."

  Ewan held his silence as they approached the brewer's house, which was at the end of the line of cottages that made up the road that led through the village.

  Old Aenos the brewer and he had a love-hate relationship. Aenos loved to see the only man he'd ever known who could drink him under the table, and he hated whenever Ewan had to leave.

  Ewan stopped his horse and dismounted before Aenos's door. He knocked on it.

  "I be closed for the night," the old man snarled from the other side. "So whoever you be, you better well…" His voice trailed off as he swung open the door to see Ewan.