Chapter 7
Faye prolonged waking the following morning. She snuggled against Ewan’s side, where she wished to remain for the rest of the day. Well, not simply lying next to him.
She craved Ewan’s skilled fingers on her and the hard length of his arousal gliding inside her. He shifted, waking.
She slid one leg over him, the movement slow and sensual. There was no secret in what she needed. She’d spent too long being curious about experiencing what existed between men and women.
Now she knew in body what she’d suspected in mind. And she wanted it again and again and again, like manna for her starved body.
“Faye.” His voice was gravelly with sleep.
“Stay with me.” She kissed his chest. Her fingers ran down his torso toward his cock, which she found hard and hot.
“I canna.” He shifted her hand away gently. “I’ve got to meet with Monroe this morn.” He rolled on to his side and looked down at her. His hair was rumbled from sleep, and his powerful body was carved with muscle where he held himself up.
He stroked her cheek. “Ye’re so verra lovely, Faye.”
She loved how he said her name—in a single syllable with his rich, rumbled timbre, cut short by his Scottish burr.
She nuzzled into his touch and parted her lips over his blunt thumb.
He uttered a silent curse and drew her to him, his cock hard and insistent as it pressed between her legs where she was already damp with need. They took one another in a quick, desperate passion that left them both gasping for breath after, while their hearts galloped in their chests.
When he finally rose from their shared bed, it was with apparent regret.
He washed quickly and slid out the door, promising to have a bath sent up to her chambers.
Faye lingered a moment longer in the warm tangle of sheets, then pulled herself from the soft mattress and crossed through the door connecting their chambers together.
Her room was the same size as his, with a fine bed of a similar build—four carved posts and heavy, red curtains hanging from the sides.
At the base of the bed was a chest for her wardrobe and by the wall near a shuttered window, a table with a comb resting atop it and various bottles.
A small wooden tub already sat near the hearth.
This was her chamber and hers alone. How many times had she longed for such luxury?
Yet now, the very thought of Clara and Kinsey tugged at her heart. She would sacrifice the fine room and all the space for the opportunity to be at home with them again.
A red-haired maid entered the room, a woman several years older than Faye.
The lines around her eyes crinkled as she smiled.
“Good morrow, my lady. I’m Gavina and will be seeing to ye as yer maid.
If ye’d take a seat by the fire, I’ll have yer bath filled.
Would ye like a bowl of porridge as ye wait? ”
Faye’s stomach gave a growl of hunger in reply.
Despite the many miles she’d walked the day before in her bid to escape her grandfather, she’d eaten little more than a few bites of bread and meat.
She could have eaten more in the room with Ewan, but then he’d started asking so many questions. Wanting to know her.
What they’d done instead had been far more appealing. Indeed, the recollection made a sensual heat warm between her thighs.
Faye covered her stomach with her hand and gave a little laugh at her apparent hunger. “I think porridge would be fine. Thank ye.”
Gavina gave a good-natured grin. “I’ll see to that for ye straight away.”
Within the hour, Gavina had Faye’s stomach filled with food, and she’d been thoroughly bathed and washed in a tub of rose-scented hot water and laced into a fresh kirtle. Unfortunately, the garment Moiré had kindly lent her was as ill-fitting as the nightrail had been.
Gavina tsked over the short hem with a frown. “I’ll have yer kirtle from yesterday washed and repaired by the morrow. For now, I can let loose the hem and measure ye for some new garments.”
She set to work nipping the stitches from the bottom of the kirtle with a pair of sharp-tipped scissors, then took down a number of measurements. She was just finishing when a knock came from the door.
“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.”