“Mistress Faye,” a woman on the opposite side said. “’Tis Moiré.”
“Ye may enter,” Faye called.
The door opened, and Ewan’s cousin stepped in. “Good morrow. I hope ye slept well.” A blush crept over her face as she appeared to realize her words and recall how the prior evening had been Faye’s wedding night.
“Ewan remains occupied most of his day,” Moiré said. “I’m to show ye the castle and the tasks ye’ll need to know as mistress here.”
Mistress? Of an entire castle? A sliver of trepidation crept over Faye. Never once in all of this had she considered she would be charged with the welfare of so many.
She kept a smile on her face and inclined her head gratefully. “That would be wonderful. Thank ye.”
Moiré approached, her eyes sparkling, and took Faye’s hands. “I should so like for us to be friends. Ewan is like a brother to me, but I’ve no’ ever had a sister.” Her shoulders lifted in excitement. “I’ve always wanted one.”
Faye nodded with a plastered smile, unsure of what to say to this woman she didn’t know. She needed no additional sisters. Not when she already had two. And a brother. And a mum. All of whom were most likely beside themselves with worry at her disappearance.
The agony of their fear for her had been a constant companion during her journey to her grandfather’s castle, just as it continued to linger in the back of her thoughts even now.
Gavina straightened with a triumphant smile. “It’s no’ perfect, but it’ll do fine for a day.”
Faye looked down at her skirt, where the hem had been let out. A folded line showed two inches above the rough edge. It made her remember when Mum had done the same to all their hems when they were girls to make their kirtles last a few months more. When they’d had no food, no coin. Nothing but each other.
And now she had not even that.
“I should like to compose a letter to my family.” Her voice caught, but she swallowed down her emotion. She would not cry in front of these strangers. She would yield her control and power to no one. Never again.
“Of course.” Moiré’s pretty brows turned up with concern. “They must be so worried about ye.” She pulled at Faye’s hand with the same eagerness Kinsey used to when they were younger. “We’ll go to the solar first so that ye can write yer missive.”
Faye nodded and tried to keep her melancholy from being so apparent. After all, even if a runner left that afternoon with the message, he would not arrive in Castleton for at least three weeks, if not a month.
A familiar hurt settled in Faye’s heart and worked its way up the back of her throat, squeezing until she could scarce breathe. Moiré chattered on as she led Faye through a complicated maze of corridors that would take some time to learn. Faye was grateful for her companion’s incessant chatter, for it gave her time to compose herself to speak again without erupting in tears.
She wished Ewan were free to be with her, to kiss her and stroke her. His touch made her lose herself in mindless need, where painful thoughts of her home could not reach her.
Because she could no longer let herself think of the stone manor in Castleton or the people she loved there, for doing so would surely cause her to break.
Ewan skimmed the peace negotiations drawn up that day between the Sutherland and Ross clans. Ewan had kept the bastard from Faye intentionally and was glad for his decision to do so. Faye’s grandfather left after they’d both signed it, although only after insisting on being shown the stained sheets from their marital bed.
His hand tightened into a fist now with regret. He should have killed the bastard outright when he’d threatened Faye’s sister. They were already on the brink of war anyway.
The door to Ewan’s solar pushed open, and Moiré appeared. “Did it go well with the Ross clan?” she asked.
“Well enough,” Ewan muttered.
“Do ye think they can be trusted?” She approached the desk and peered down at the document in Ewan’s hands.
“We can hope.” He pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers, but it did little to stave off his oncoming headache. “How has yer da taken the news?”
Moiré tilted her head in consideration. “I went to his manor earlier today. He’s inclined to put his faith in the Gordons and thinks this turn of events will have them most displeased. But he wasna willing to offer more information than that.”
He was right. The Gordons would be unhappy. While nothing had been signed, months of negotiations had finally brought them to the brink of making an agreement that benefited both clans. Though naught close to what the Ross agreement offered to the Sutherlands.
“Do ye think Cruim will do anything rash?” Ewan asked of Moiré’s da.
She lifted her shoulder in a slight shrug. “I’ll let ye know if I find out.”
Were it not for Moiré reporting on her da’s behavior, Ewan would have little information on any of his uncle’s possible nefarious activities. Suggesting for him to live in a nearby manor had not resulted in any additional trust between him and Uncle Cruim.
Ewan leaned back in his chair and regarded his cousin. For once, his uncle was not the topic that weighed most on his mind throughout the day. “How is Faye?”
Moiré grinned with childlike enthusiasm. Hers was an infectious smile and one of the many reasons Ewan enjoyed her company. “She’s so charming, Ewan. I showed her around the castle and gave her some instructions on how to see about running it all. She caught on quickly enough that I expect she’ll be doing it all on her own within a fortnight.”
Ewan nodded. “Thank ye for instructing her.”
“Of course.” Moiré put an affectionate hand on his arm. “She wrote a missive to her family, and I sent one of our fastest men to deliver it. I canna imagine what she must be feeling, after all she’s gone through.” Her expression softened with empathy. “I wish there was more I could do for her.”
“Ye’ve yielded yer position as mistress of the castle to her, taken yer time to introduce her to the staff and even given her yer clothing while hers is being prepared.” He got to his feet and settled a hand on Moiré’s shoulder. “I think ye’ve done more than enough, and I thank ye heartily for it.”
“I think she’ll be good for ye, too,” Moiré said. “The way she looks at ye…I could see yer wife falling in love with ye.”
Those words put a pleasant warmth in his chest. One he would not allow himself to consider. Not yet.
Moiré tipped her chin as though the sacrifices she made were of little concern. “She’s the reason I’m here. She asked to dine with ye in yer chambers rather than at the Great Hall.”
Ewan frowned. “Is she unwell?”
Moiré folded her arms over her chest and tapped a forefinger against her sleeve. “She was quiet, but I wouldna say unwell.”
“When should I join her?” he asked.
“She’s there now.”
Ewan nodded his thanks to his cousin and put the contract in his desk drawer, locking it with the small, precious key he’d had made some years back. No doubt, Faye was reeling from the turn of events. Who would not in her circumstances?
She had not said much the prior evening when he’d suggested they get to know one another again. Not that he could blame her. Heat effused his blood at what they’d done instead of talk. He hadn’t been able to nudge his mind away from thoughts of her all day. Thoughts and memories.
She’d burned his mind like a brand, and he’d gladly endured its sear. He reveled in it. Craved it.
His cock stirred. “Thank ye, Moiré. I’ll go to her now.” He bade a good evening to his cousin and went to his chamber.
As Moiré had said, Faye was already waiting for him at a table laden with the evening’s meal. What hadn’t been mentioned, and most likely had not been known by Moiré, was that Faye wore only a leine.
One of his leines.
It rode high on her naked thighs where she sat at the table, her shapely legs crossed over one another. She gave h
im a coy smile as he approached, then uncrossed and recrossed her legs in a way that made him want to run his fingers up her smooth skin to see if she was as wet as he hoped.
He joined her at the table. From this vantage point, he could make out her open collar parted low on her chest, revealing the round curve of one partially bared breast. His palms ached for the silky weight, the nub of a pert nipple under the pad of his thumb.
He cleared his throat and wished he could clear his lust as easily. “My leine hasna ever looked that fine on me.”
“I don’t have any clothes that fit me properly,” she offered by way of explanation.
“I imagine ye made quite the impression if ye wore that through the castle today.” He said it lightly, but the idea of any other man seeing her body on display in such a manner made him tense.
She chuckled, a low, throaty sound. “Nay, I wore one of Moiré’s kirtles, but ’tis too small. Gavina is cleaning and repairing mine for the morrow, then will make more for me. Until then…” She swept her hands up her sides, putting herself on display.
“I canna say I mind yer attire.”
She ran her fingertips over the delicate line of her collar bone, gently brushing the flap open wider, so just a hint of the rosy pink nipple was visible.
God’s teeth, the woman turned him to fire.
“I hope ye enjoy the meal I asked to be made for ye.” She glanced down at the trenchers on the table.
His cock was hard as a rock, and his thoughts scattered because of it. Ewan, who had always held a particular fondness for food, hadn’t even noticed what laid in front of him. Beyond Faye, that was.
Roasted pheasant stuffed with figs and cinnamon, several rolls and a cabbage stew he’d always enjoyed.
He refocused, putting his attention to her. Where it was needed. “It smells divine. Thank ye.” He served her first, offering her a juicy piece of meat and the stuffing with the most chunks of figs, before adding some to his own plate. “Did ye meet everyone ye needed today?”
Faye sliced the bit of pheasant with her slender eating dagger. “Aye, Moiré was so kind to show me about.”
Ewan cut a piece of his own food. His gaze wandered down to the shapely calf, resting so close to his own. “Moiré said ye wrote a letter to yer family today.”
A smile flashed on her face, so bright, it dulled her eyes. “I did.”
“I know what ye’ve gone through must be difficult.” He speared a fig and took a bite.
She looked at her plate and said nothing.
“They’re always welcome to visit.” He poured some wine into her goblet, which she slowly took and drank. “And ye can travel to see them as well.”
“I’d like that.” She swallowed and looked away, evidently uncomfortable with the conversation.
“Ye can talk to me,” he said. “If ye like.”
“We’re talking now.” She gave him a flirtatious wink. “I was able to see all of the castle today. ’Tis perfect.” Despite her happy demeanor, she prodded at the meat on her plate.
“Change anything ye like. Ye’re mistress now.” He drank from his wine and set the goblet aside. “Did ye find yer chamber to yer liking?”
Faye sank her teeth into the pillowy softness of her lower lip. “I like yer chamber better.”
His hard cock lurched at the suggestion in her voice, at the memories of their shared passion. She must have been of a similar mindset, for her nipples pebbled beneath her shirt, making sharp points in the fabric.
“Ye can alter yers,” he offered. “To anything ye like.”
He wanted to get to know his wife, to be a man she could go to for whatever it was she needed. And yet, she wielded such a powerful sensuality that he could scarcely think around her, let alone carry on a decent conversation. Not when his cock was raging for release.
“How do ye enjoy passing yer evenings?” He asked, forcing the question from the haze of lust crowding his brain. “Needlepoint, mayhap? Or—”
Her naked leg curled around his and slowly slid up his calf. Though she didn’t say a word, the way she lowered her head and gazed coquettishly up at him was answer enough. He knew exactly how she planned to at least spend that evening.
8
Faye didn’t want to go through another round of questioning with Ewan. She didn’t care for him to know her any more than she cared to know him.
His strong leg tensed against hers. It was evident in how his stare flicked to the low gap between her breasts in his leine she wore, or how he would look down at her bare leg when she stretched it into his line of sight. He was interested in the same thing as she was.
“Or mayhap if ye dinna like, ehm, needlepoint…” He licked his lips and drank from his wine again, his strong throat flexing around the swallow. “Ye could try…ehm…”
Desire thrummed between her legs. Eager for how he’d made her feel the night before. Desperate to distract her thoughts with lust and passion. While it didn’t fill the void in her chest, it at least took her mind from the pain.
“How do ye enjoy passing the night?” She ran the pad of her middle finger down the low neckline of the leine, parting it to share a glimpse of her breast.
His stare settled on her. “I oft remain in the Great Hall after the evening meal to see to the clan.”
Faye tilted her head to the side and caressed her skin. Her fingers grazed her nipple, and a sigh of pleasure escaped her lips. “What do ye wish to do this eve?”
His eyes slid up to hers. “Get to know my wife.”
She shifted her foot on his leg, gliding upward to where his cock strained at his trews. The heat of his arousal was apparent through the leather. She closed her eyes in anticipation of the pleasure she knew he would bring her.
“I’ve thought of ye all day,” she confessed.
A muscle flexed in his strong jaw. “As I have of ye.”
“Is it wanton of me to want ye so?” She gave him a wide-eyed look, intentionally innocent, even as she rubbed her foot over the hard column of his desire.
He gripped the table and issued a low groan.
Faye touched her fingertip to her lower lip. “I want ye, Ewan.”
He stood so abruptly that the chair tipped and crashed to the floor. Neither of them paid it any mind. Faye remained where she sat, wanting him to come to her. And come to her, he did.
He drew her up from her seat and took her there against the wall with hard, fast thrusts that left them both crying out in pleasure. After, he’d hauled her into his arms and carried her to the bed where their intimacy was drawn out between tangled sheets, enjoyed to the point of exhaustion.
Ewan fell asleep immediately, an arm thrown protectively over her despite them both being slick with sweat. The previous evening, she’d been so exhausted from walking through the cold for hours that she’d fallen into a deep slumber immediately. This night she was not so fortunate.
The pleasant glow from a night of being thoroughly loved had quickly cooled, bringing with it a hollow emptiness. This was a different world, a different life. It was loneliness and absent familiarity and love.
The chasm widened in her chest, expanding to an agonizing cavern that she could easily fall into and become lost. Her eyes filled with tears and leaked in hot streaks down the sides of her face, silent as they bled into the pillow.
As though sensing her sorrow, the hand on her side tightened. He was turned toward her in his sleep, his face relaxed in a way that made him look younger.
It was so tempting to trust him. He seemed eager to make her happy. He and Moiré both. Even Gavina. She could have love here if she accepted it.
The thought immediately gave way to a memory of when they were in England. Their hearts were still raw from Da’s death, their purses weighted with guilt coin from the lord who offered paltry compensation for their loss. The people who had once been neighbors, friends, set cold glares in their direction. No longer were they brethren. Not after their English father, along with many others, had died in
a war against Scotland.
They were Scottish. Filth.
The worst had been when a girl Faye had loved like a sister spat on her. Years had passed, and still, Faye could recall her horror as she stared at the foamy puddle of spittle dripping down the sleeve of her kirtle.
It wasn’t the only time their trust was betrayed by those they loved. It had happened again in one of the Scottish villages when they’d been forced to leave in the middle of the night after Faye had confessed to a friend they were running from her grandfather. Nay. Faye’s trust had been twisted too many times. Love only brought disappointment and hurt.
No one had ever been worthy of such trust, save her family.
And they were now gone.
Faye swallowed hard to clear the lump, but this time it was far too stubborn. The tears came in a stream, and her face stretched with the grief of her silent cries. She turned from Ewan, slipping from his loose hold, and pressed her face to the pillow to allow her tears to pour freely as sorrow shuddered through her.
A strong arm secured around her shoulders. “Ye’re shivering, lass.” Ewan drew her back against the solid heat of his body, and a blanket came over them both. His lips pressed to her shoulder, and he relaxed once more, evidently asleep.
She hadn’t wanted his comfort.
Indeed, she would have declined if he’d offered. But his innocent mistake of her grief for a chill and the gesture to warm her allowed her to remain where she was, reveling in his comfort without sacrificing her pride. There, in the cradle of his arms, with the power of his body at her back and the heat of his skin melting the ice of her loneliness, she found a glimmer of solace.
She remained in his arms thus through the night until the mattress shifted under her, and Ewan slipped away from her. Her body immediately cooled without him near. She turned and found him washing by the basin. Firelight shone off his muscular torso as he scrubbed over his skin, washing away evidence of their passion from the night before.
Faye's Sacrifice (Borderland Rebels Book 1) Page 7
