Brigand's Intended by Aileen Adams

Author:Aileen Adams [Adams, Aileen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: AilAd

10

Ewan rolled over and burrowed his face into his pillow. He sighed sleepily, deeply content, and then his eyes snapped open.

He had been dreaming about Isla.

He shut his eyes again and tilted his head back on his pillow, trying both to remember and forget about the dream at the same moment. There had been a tree, and sunlight, and river...and well…

He passed his hand over his face, rubbing at his eyes. For a moment, he imagined the expression Isla would have if she knew he had dreamt about her in that way.

“I am sorry, Isla,” he said to her imaginary figure. “I dinnae mean to. I will try nae to do it again, but ye are so lovely.”

He paused, seeing imaginary Isla look startled and sad to hear herself called lovely by him. He rose from the bed.

Finlay and his men had departed to search for the raiders an hour after Ewan and his men returned. Seannae did not have as many warriors as Duffus did, but Finlay assured him that they were all excellent fighters. They had traveled to a village that was farther away than Grenae was, so although Ewan was confident they would not have returned already by that morning, he felt anxious and excited in spite of himself. He dressed quickly so that he could climb a tower to look out over the lands and be sure. He hoped that Finlay would be more fortunate than he had been.

He climbed the northeastern tower, taking a few of the steps two at a time. He could not explain why he felt so joyful. Was he that confident that Finlay’s mission would be successful? Why was he not still under a cloud of disappointment that his own mission had gone so poorly?

He reached the landing of the tower and realized in an instant that his joy was due to his dream about Isla. She was standing there, in the dark blue dress she had worn on her arrival, her hair unbound and blowing in the morning breeze. Her back was to him, and she had not heard his approach. Ewan stood for a moment gazing at her, allowing the admiration he usually tried to conceal to light up his eyes.

He cleared his throat.

She whirled, a terrified look in her eyes. Ewan held up his hands, frantically apologetic.

“Och, I’m sorry,” he said. “I dinnae mean to startle ye.”

He came forward to stand at her side. She nodded, still clearly unnerved.

“’Tis nae yer fault,” she said. “I am haunted by ghosts of fear.”

“’Tis no wonder,” said Ewan gently. “May I offer ye me arm?”

She hesitated, then took it. She clung to him as if they were standing unprotected at the edge of a precipice, and he was her anchor to safety. He could feel her breathing steady slowly as she gripped him. He tried not to enjoy the warmth of her arm, or the feeling of her shoulder pressed against his and failed. He felt his heart purring like an eager kitten.

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