The Hunter (34 page)

It took everything he had not to grab her hips and rub her harder against him. Only the cool challenge in her eyes stayed his hands.

“It’s not an invitation I am free to accept, damn it. And you know very well why. How do you think the king would react—or Stewart would react—to discover that I’d taken your innocence?”

She frowned. “Stewart? Do you mean young Walter Stewart? Why should he care?”

Ah hell!
Ewen clamped his mouth shut, realizing his mistake. “He is my liege lord. His father vouched for my loyalty, and I will not see that repaid by embarrassing the son.”

She appeared chastened, his explanation seemingly satisfying her. “So it is Robert’s reaction that worries you? You think he would punish you for being with me?”

Think?
Ewen gave her a hard stare. “I
know
he would. And he would have every right to. You are his sister-in-law, for Christ’s sake. I am the chieftain of a disfavored clan with one finger of land left of a once great lordship. My clan is hanging on by a thread, Janet. Any hope I have of recovering that land rests with the king.”

Janet could see the conflicting emotions warring on his face and almost felt bad for pressing him. Almost.

She understood the source of his dilemma; she just didn’t see it as an insurmountable problem. Not after what he’d said.

She still couldn’t believe it: he’d not only thanked her, but also had admitted that she was good at what she did. He’d seen what she could do and recognized how she could
be useful.
“Brilliant.”
The admiration in his voice had nearly made her weep.

After days of wondering whether all she was doing was banging her head against a stone wall, she’d finally gotten through to him. He wasn’t like her father or Duncan—or most of the other men she’d met. He
was
different. She was right: his apparent lack of regard for women had been a consequence of ignorance and inexperience rather than true belief. He didn’t see her as a helpless accessory or as a serf, but as someone capable, valued, and worthy of respect—like Magnus’s wife, Helen, the healer he’d mentioned.

It was what she’d always wanted from a man but never dreamed of finding. She was more certain than ever that this was right. How could he hold her in his arms like this, with their bodies pressed together intimately, and deny it? She wanted him to touch her. To make love to her. She wanted to feel his body connected to hers and know what it was to experience passion.

The problem was convincing him.

It was disheartening to think that she’d held so tightly to something for twenty-seven years, and then when she finally was ready to let go, was having to persuade a man to take it.

“This is between you and me, Ewen. I see no reason for Robert to be involved at all. If you want me, and I want you, why should anything else matter?”

He gave a harsh laugh, devoid of even the illusion of amusement. “You can’t be that naive. You know that isn’t the way it is done. Sharing a bed is not that simple.”

She lifted her chin, not liking his tone. “It should be.”

“Perhaps, but until that day, a noblewoman is not free to give her innocence wherever she wishes.”

Janet knew he spoke the truth, but it didn’t mean she had to agree with it—or abide by it. “There is no reason Robert needs to know.”

He stiffened. “
I
would know. I would not dishonor you like that.”

Janet glanced up at him sitting behind her, seeing the steely expression set on his face. That infernal nobility of his was proving problematic again. “Because we are not to be married?”

The look he gave her was fierce, searing in its intensity. His jaw clenched even tighter. “Because we
cannot
be married.”

His vehemence took her aback. She was silent for a moment, absorbing the implications. He must have taken her protestations against marriage to heart. Or was it something else?
Cannot
 … Perhaps he was alluding to their differences in station?

But somehow it felt as if he’d just thrown down the gauntlet. And despite his recent epiphany, she wasn’t sure she wanted to pick it up. Sharing a bed, as he’d put it, was one thing, but trusting a man to put her fate in his hands was another. Did she want to marry him?

Nineteen

After days of being hunted, the ride from Cuingealach, the little village in the hills, to Ayrshire proved disconcertingly uneventful.

They crossed the hills between Douglas and Sanquhar, and continued west through the Airds Moss. By late afternoon, they neared their destination.

Though the English presence was still heavily felt, this was William Wallace country, and many of the martyred patriot’s followers had come over to Bruce. A number of Wallace’s relatives lived in Sundrum, including a cousin who the Highland Guard used for occasions such as this.

Ewen should be relieved. His mission was all but complete—or would be in the morning, when they met Hawk and Chief in Ayr with the
birlinn
. He would return Janet to her family, and he would go back to his duties with the Guard, tracking the next enemy or missing ally. Bruce would be grateful, and Ewen would be one step closer to restoring the name of Lamont—and, he hoped, the lands as well.

It was exactly what he wanted. Exactly what he’d been fighting for.

Then why was he trying to eke out every minute on this horse? Why did it feel like the moment he let go of her, this would all be over?

But there was no “this.” There never had been. She couldn’t be his. He’d made that clear. He’d told her he
couldn’t marry her, and from her silence since, it seemed she finally understood.

It was what he wanted.

So why was he disappointed that she hadn’t protested? Why had a tiny part of him hoped the idea of marriage to him wasn’t so inconceivable?

He stopped at a small burn in the Broad Wood to water the horse for the last time before reaching Sundrum. His leg was much improved since acquiring the mount, but it grew tight without movement, and it felt good to move about.

He wasn’t delaying.

Janet returned from tending her needs and sat on a rock by the stream, nibbling on a piece of dried beef, while he held the horse to water.

“Tell me about Helen.”

He glanced over at her in surprise. Not exactly the conversation he was expecting after their last. He stiffened slightly, wondering if she’d noticed something about his leg. He was careful not to favor the other, but the lass was too damned observant. “What do you want to know?”

She shrugged. “She’s good at what she does?”

“She’s one of the best.”

“You said she could be a physician? How could that be? She is a woman.”

“It’s rare, but not impossible. Your brother-in-law’s brother, the Earl of Sutherland, is married to a woman who trained in Edinburgh for a while at one of the guilds until she married. Helen might have as well.”

“But then she married Magnus?”

Ewen wasn’t sure where she was going with this. “Aye, but Helen never wanted the guilds. She’s happy doing what she’s doing.”

“And what exactly is that?”

Ewen finished letting the horse drink and then led it from the burn, tying the rein around a tree. He crossed his
arms and looked at her, knowing he was treading dangerous ground. She was no doubt trying to trick him into revealing something about the Guard or confirm his place in it. “She tends to the ill; what else would she do?”

“Does she go into battle with you?”

“No.”

“But she is nearby?”

“Why are you so interested in this?”

She shrugged. “I just am. It’s not usual, you must admit, for a gently born lady to take on such a role.”

“Helen is unusual.”

“As is her husband. He is a rare man to permit his wife to put herself in such danger.”

He laughed. “MacKay hates every bloody minute of it.”

She looked genuinely perplexed. “Then why does he go along with it?”

“Because he knows she is needed. And—”

He stopped.

“And?”

He shrugged uncomfortably. “And because he loves her.”

“Oh.” It obviously wasn’t the answer she expected.

His mouth twisted in a smile. “Surely you’ve heard of it?”

Their eyes met, and a sharp frisson of awareness passed between them.

She blushed, lowering her gaze. “Aye, just not in marriage.”

The wry tone did not hide the sadness underneath. “Your parents did not have a happy marriage?”

She made a sharp sound. “My father gave my mother as much consideration as he would have given a serf. Most of the time he forgot she was there. When she did find the courage to speak, he would cut her down so cruelly, she eventually began to believe that she was as stupid as he made her feel.”

He winced, having seen more than his share of similar marriages. “Not all marriages are like that, lass.”

Her mouth twisted with cynicism. “Aye—some, like my sister Mary’s, are full of misery, heartbreak, and infidelity, and others, like my brother Duncan’s, are constant battlegrounds of strife and discord. He and Christina would fight for hours. He was constantly dragging her off to their chamber to do God-knows-what to the poor woman.”

Realizing she was serious, Ewen burst out laughing.

She bristled. “I don’t see what is funny.”

Seeing the hurt on her face, he sobered. “I’m sorry, lass. I can’t speak to your sister Mary’s first marriage. I knew the Earl of Atholl, and though he was a hell of a warrior, I didn’t pay much mind to his relations with women who were not his wife. I’ve known Sutherland for a while, though, and to my knowledge he has been faithful to your sister since he first set eyes on her.” He left out how amused they’d all been by it, given that Mary had rejected him as a suitor. “It was your comment about Duncan that made me laugh. His passion for his wife was well known—both in and out of the bedchamber. I suspect they made up just as passionately as they argued.”

Janet’s eyes widened, her cheeks reddening as she took in his meaning.

Her brows drew together. “How do you know so much about my brother?”

Damn
. This wasn’t exactly a subject he wanted to be discussing with her. “I fought with him for a while.”

She looked stunned. “You did? Why did you not tell me before?” She seemed to realize something even as the words left her mouth. “You were with him at Loch Ryan, weren’t you?”

He nodded.

She let out a slow breath. The way it hitched painfully made his chest squeeze. He wanted to reach for her, but forced his hands to his side.

She was quiet for a moment, as if steadying her emotions. “How did he die?”

Ewen saw the blade flashing in the sunlight before it came down upon Duncan’s neck and forced the hideous image away. She didn’t need to know the details. “Bravely, lass. Like the fierce Highland warrior that he was. I was proud to fight alongside him.”

She knew he wasn’t telling her all of it, but for once she didn’t press. “It must have been horrible,” she said. “All those men who died.” She shuddered. “You were fortunate to make it out alive.”

“Aye.”

It had been a bloodbath. The MacDowells had been told of their arrival and had been waiting for them. Ewen had been in one of only two
birlinns
that had managed to escape. Whoever had betrayed them had cost almost seven hundred men their lives. One day that person would pay.

Janet saw the dark emotions cross his face and regretted invoking the painful memories. But somehow it made her feel better to know that Ewen was with Duncan when he died. Though the loss of her brother would always be a painful hole in her heart, Ewen had soothed the hurt just a little bit.

Was it true what he’d said about Duncan and Christina? Had she so misinterpreted the feelings between them? What went on behind those closed doors?

Apparently more than she’d realized.

Suddenly, all those long hours in the bedchamber took on a very different meaning—one sensual rather than sinister. Her brother had always seemed so subdued afterward. She’d taken it for regret, but what if it was something else?

It was disconcerting to realize how little she knew about something that had been going on right before her.

She arched a brow, watching as Ewen fiddled with a bag
tied to the horse, eventually removing a skin. How did he know so much?

After taking a long swig, he sat down beside her. It was nice, this, sitting here with him without a cloud of danger hanging over them. Apparently, in no hurry to continue their journey, she decided to ask him. “Did your parents love each other?”

He tensed almost imperceptibly. She sensed right away that the subject was not a welcome one. But he answered her question. “Aye, though they shouldn’t have.”

“What do you mean?”

“When my father abducted my mother—with her approval—away from the Chief of Lamont, it nearly destroyed my father and our clan. Had it not been for James Stewart, it would have.”

“Yet there is something undeniably romantic about it. Your father must have truly loved her to be willing to risk so much.”

Ewen’s face hardened. “My father was an irresponsible ruffian who did whatever the hell he wanted, without any sense of the consequences. He fought hard, drank hard, and apparently loved hard. Duty and loyalty didn’t mean a damned thing to him. He stole his chief’s bride, for Christ’s sake, knowing full well there would be war.”