Highland Warrior. Hannah HowellЧитать онлайн книгу.
learn much so I hesitate to risk a mon. This Sir Ranald sounds mad and I suspicion his kinsmen willnae be wanting to admit he is one of theirs. I will think on it.” He finished off his ale and stood up. “Now, since Simon isnae suffering too badly, I believe I will have a wee talk with the lad. The sooner I discover who that lass belongs to, the sooner I can send her on her way.”
Ignoring young Nathan, who stood guard in the doorway of the herb shed, Fiona listened to Mab tell her all about what she had at hand, how it was gathered, and how it was prepared. When she was not trying to find some clever cure, Mab was probably no danger to anyone. The woman knew something about herbs and was well versed in simple medicines. Fiona wondered if there was any gentle way to get the woman to cease being inventive.
It was difficult to keep her mind set on what Mab was saying, for Fiona kept wondering what Ewan wanted to speak to Simon about in private. Try as she would, she could not recall everything she had said to the youth. She prayed Simon could not, either. If Ewan searched for clues as to who she was, she did not want him to gather too many too quickly. It might be foolish, but she was attracted to the man. Fiona wanted to stay at Scarglas long enough to see what that might mean or if, by some miracle, it might be returned. A deep hurt might lie ahead, but she was beginning to think it would be foolish to flee in fear of that when staying might show her that her doubts and fears were unjustified.
Mab started to speak about a potion she was mixing, drawing Fiona’s full attention. Before Mab could tell her what herbs she was stirring together, however, the woman’s attention was diverted by a small, fair-haired boy. Fiona smiled when introduced to Mab’s son, then shooed the pair out of the shed, assuring Mab that she would be fine on her own. After agreeing to meet Mab back in Simon’s room, Fiona turned her attention to the potion Mab was creating. She was not sure she was skilled enough, but she would at least try to guess at what Mab was brewing up now.
Fiona was close to solving the puzzle when she felt a presence directly behind her. Even before she looked behind her, she knew it was Ewan. The fact that, after so short an acquaintance, she could recognize his scent made her feel a little sad. She was obviously becoming more enthralled with the man with each passing hour, yet he showed no sign of suffering a similar affliction. Slowly, she turned around to face him.
“What are ye doing in here?” Ewan asked, clasping his hands behind his back in an attempt to kill the urge to touch her.
“Afraid I am mixing up a barrel of poison for the lot of you?” She shook her head when he just quirked one dark brow at her. “Dinnae be an idiot. I am just trying to guess what Mab has put into this potion she is mixing. She left ere she could tell me.”
Ewan moved closer, leaning forward to sniff at the small bowl holding Mab’s potion. His whole body tensed when he realized how close Fiona was now. When she took a deep, unsteady breath, her breasts brushed fleetingly against his chest. He nearly groaned and was not surprised to see that he had brought his hands forward to grasp the table on either side of her. He lifted his head just enough to bring his face even with hers. When she nervously licked her lips, he felt his belly clench with the strength of his desire.
“Do ye think ’tis her potion for scars?” he asked softly.
“Nay.” Fiona fisted her hands tightly at her sides, fighting the nearly overwhelming urge to wrap her arms around him.
“They arenae so verra bad.”
When he brushed his lips over one of the scars on her cheeks, Fiona trembled. She turned her head slightly, intending to speak, only to find her lips brushing over his. He made an odd, strangled noise, and suddenly she found herself held firmly in his arms. She did not hesitate to wrap her arms around his neck. The heat of his soft lips against hers went rushing through her whole body. The feelings assailing her made her weak in the knees and she clung to him more tightly.
The first nudge of his tongue against her lips was all the persuasion she needed to open her mouth. He growled softly as he invaded her mouth with his tongue. With each stroke of his tongue, Fiona felt her need for him grow.
Then, abruptly, she was released. Fiona gripped the edge of the table tightly to keep her trembling body from sagging to the ground. The heat of desire was clear to see in Ewan’s stormy gray eyes, but he looked utterly dismayed.
“I shouldnae have done that,” he said, his deep voice hoarse and a little unsteady. “It willnae happen again,” he added in a stronger voice before striding away.
Fiona took several deep breaths to steady herself as she stared in the direction he had gone. She now had the proof that he was as attracted to her as she was to him. It was also clear that he did not want to be, was determined to fight it. A slow smile curved her still kiss-warmed lips as she brushed down her skirts. Every instinct she had told her that Ewan MacFingal was her match, her soul mate. If the man thought he could escape that fate, she was ready and able to show him otherwise.
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