Chapter 23
"Where are we goin'?"
Maia's voice was soft, almost hesitant, as Ewan guided the horse through the darkened forest. They weren't heading back toward the main castle entrance—she recognized enough of the landscape to know that much.
"Me chambers," Ewan said, and his voice held a roughness that sent heat pooling low in her belly.
"I'm nae takin' ye through the main hall where everyone can see ye like this, bruised and bloody and half-terrified.
Ye deserve privacy. And I—" His arms tightened around her waist. "I need ye alone.
Need to see for meself that ye're truly safe. "
Maia leaned back against his chest, feeling the solid strength of him, the steady beat of his heart. "I'm safe now."
"Aye. Because I'll never let anyone hurt ye again." It was a vow, spoken with such fierce conviction that Maia felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes.
They approached the castle from the east side, where a small door was set into the stone wall, clearly a private entrance. Ewan dismounted and lifted Maia down, then led the horse to a nearby post and secured it.
"Someone will see to him," Ewan said, taking Maia's hand. "Come."
He led her through the door and up a narrow staircase that wound through the castle's interior. Maia recognized none of it; these weren't the corridors she'd walked with Aisla, weren't the routes the servants used. This was clearly a private way, meant for the laird alone.
Finally, they reached a heavy wooden door. Ewan pushed it open and guided Maia inside, then closed and locked it behind them.
His chambers were larger than Maia's, dominated by a massive bed with dark furs and heavy quilts. A fireplace crackled with banked embers, casting dancing shadows across the stone walls. There was a desk covered in papers, a wardrobe, several chairs, and—
Maia's attention snapped back to the bed as Ewan's hands settled on her shoulders.
"Are ye hurt?" His voice was gentle now, concerned. "Besides the bruise on yer temple. Did they hurt ye anywhere else?"
"Nae." Maia reached up to touch the tender spot where the guard had struck her, wincing. "Just this. And me lip, but it's nae serious."
"I should have killed them slower." Ewan's jaw clenched. "Should have made them suffer for every moment of fear they caused ye."
"Ye killed me uncle." The words came out flat, emotionless. Maia knew she should feel something about that—grief, maybe, or horror. But all she felt was a profound sense of relief. "He's really dead?"
"Aye. He'll never hurt ye again. Never threaten ye or lock ye away or make ye believe ye're anythin' less than extraordinary." Ewan's hands moved to cup her face, his thumbs brushing gently across her cheekbones. "I meant what I said, Maia. I love ye. And I'm nae lettin' ye go."
"Even though I ran?" Maia's voice was small. "Even though I dinnae trust ye, dinnae give ye a chance to explain about Laura?"
"Even though." Ewan's lips curved into a slight smile. "Though we are goin' to discuss why ye thought runnin' into the forest alone was a better option than just comin' to me study and askin' what was happenin'."
"I saw her on yer lap," Maia whispered. "Saw her hands on ye, saw her leanin' in to kiss ye. And I just—I couldnae watch. Couldnae see ye choose her over me."
"I would never choose her. Never choose anyone over ye.
" Ewan's voice was fierce. "She forced herself on me, Maia.
Came into me study uninvited, ignored every warning I gave her, and then straddled me lap before I could stop her.
And the moment—the very moment—I realized what she was doin', I threw her off.
Told her she was banned from McGill lands entirely, that if I ever saw her again I'd exile her whole family. "
Hope bloomed in Maia's chest, warm and fragile. "Truly?"
"Truly. I daenae want her, lass. I've never wanted her.
She's cruel and vain and everythin' I despise.
" Ewan's thumb brushed across Maia's split lip, gentle and careful.
"But ye—ye're everythin' I never knew I needed.
Everythin' I never let meself want because I was too afraid of what I might become. "
"And ye're nae afraid anymore?"
"Oh, I'm terrified." Ewan's laugh was rough. "But I'm more afraid of losin' ye than I am of turnin' into me faither. And I realized—when ye ran, when I thought I might never see ye again—I realized that lovin' ye doesnae make me weak or dangerous. It makes me better. Makes me want to be better."
Maia's breath caught. "Ye really love me?"
"I really love ye." Ewan bent his head, pressing his forehead against hers. "I'm in love with ye, Maia Ferguson. So deeply in love that I cannae imagine me life without ye in it. And I ken—I ken it's fast, and I ken ye probably need time, but I—"
"I love ye too," Maia interrupted, the words tumbling out.
"I told ye that in the forest, but I need to say it again.
I love ye, Ewan. I love the way ye look at me like I'm precious.
I love the way ye defend me. I love yer strength and yer kindness and the way ye took in Kian even though ye dinnae have to. I love—I love everythin' about ye."
Ewan's eyes darkened, and then he was kissing her. Not gentle this time, not careful. This kiss was claiming, demanding, full of all the fear and relief and desperate love he'd been holding back.
Maia kissed him back with equal fervor, her hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer. She needed this. Needed him. Needed to feel alive and wanted and safe after the terror of the past hour.
Ewan's hands moved to her waist, then lower, gripping her hips and pulling her flush against him. Maia gasped at the contact, at the solid evidence of his desire pressing against her belly.
"I need ye," Ewan growled against her mouth. "Need to see ye, touch ye, taste every inch of ye. Need to make ye mine in every way possible."
"Yes." Maia didn't hesitate. "Yes, Ewan. Please."
His hands were already moving, untying the laces of her dress with practiced efficiency. The fabric pooled at her feet, leaving her in just her shift, the same one she'd worn when he'd first taken her, now stained with dirt and blood and fear.
"Off," Ewan commanded, his voice rough. "Take it off, lass. I want to see ye."
Maia's hands trembled as she reached for the hem of her shift. This was it. The moment she'd been fantasizing about since that first kiss at the inn, since the foreplay in the mountains.
The moment when Ewan would finally see all of her—every curve, every soft place, every part of her that her uncle had taught her to be ashamed of.
"I'm nae—" she started, her voice wavering. "I'm nae like Laura. I'm nae slender or graceful."
"Stop." Ewan's hand caught hers, stilling her movement. "Daenae compare yerself to her. Daenae compare yerself to anyone. Ye're perfect exactly as ye are, Maia. Every curve, every soft place, every inch of ye is perfect. Do ye understand?"
Tears pricked at Maia's eyes. "I want to believe that."
"Then let me show ye." Ewan's voice softened. "Let me worship every part of ye until ye believe it too."
Maia nodded, unable to speak past the lump in her throat. She pulled the shift over her head and let it drop, standing before him completely bare for the first time.
Ewan's breath caught.
His eyes moved over her slowly, taking in every detail—her full breasts, her rounded belly, her thick thighs, her wide hips. And in his gaze, Maia saw no disgust, no disappointment. Only hunger. Only desire. Only love.
"Bonnie," he breathed. "So bloody bonnie I can barely stand it."
Then he was on her, his mouth claiming hers as his hands explored every curve he'd only been able to imagine before.
He cupped her breasts, thumbs brushing over her nipples until they peaked and ached. His palms smoothed down her sides, gripping her hips, pulling her against him.
"Bed," Ewan growled against her mouth. "Now."
Maia let him guide her backward until her legs hit the edge of the mattress. She sat, then scooted backward, her heart racing as Ewan stood before her and began removing his own clothes.
His shirt came off first, revealing the broad chest and muscled arms she'd only caught glimpses of before. Then his boots, his breeches, until he stood before her as bare as she was.
Maia's breath caught. He was magnificent. All hard planes and taut muscle, scars scattered across his skin telling stories of battles fought and won. And his manhood—
She felt her cheeks heat, but she couldn't look away from the evidence of his desire, thick and hard and obviously wanting her.
"Nervous?" Ewan asked, climbing onto the bed and prowling toward her like a predator stalking prey.
"A bit," Maia admitted. "I've never done this. I daenae ken what to do."
"I'll teach ye." Ewan settled over her, his weight pressing her into the mattress in a way that should have felt confining but instead felt safe. Protected. "I'll teach ye everythin', lass. And I'll make it good for ye. I promise."
Then his mouth was on her breast, and Maia's thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. His tongue circled her nipple, his teeth grazing gently, and she arched into him with a moan she couldn't suppress.
"That's it," Ewan murmured against her skin. "Let me hear ye, lass. Let me ken what ye like."
His hand moved lower, sliding between her thighs, and Maia gasped as his fingers found the place where she ached most. He stroked gently, exploring, learning what made her gasp and what made her moan.
"So wet for me," he growled, and there was satisfaction in his voice. "So ready. Do ye want me, Maia? Want me inside ye?"
"Yes." The word came out as a whimper. "Yes, please, Ewan, I need ye."
"I ken what ye need." He shifted, positioning himself between her thighs. "This might hurt a bit at first, lass. But I promise it'll get better. I promise I'll make it good."
Maia nodded, trusting him, and then he was pressing forward. Slowly. Carefully. Giving her body time to adjust to the intrusion.
There was pain—a sharp sting that made her gasp—but Ewan stilled immediately, his forehead pressed to hers.
"Breathe, lass. Just breathe. It'll pass."
Maia focused on his voice, on the feel of his body against hers, and gradually the pain faded. She shifted experimentally, and pleasure sparked through her.
"Move," she whispered. "Please move."
Ewan groaned and began to rock his hips, slowly at first, then faster as Maia's body adjusted and welcomed him. His mouth found hers, swallowing her moans as he drove into her again and again.
It was overwhelming.
The sensation of being filled, of being joined with him so completely. The pleasure building with every thrust, coiling tighter and tighter in her belly. The sound of his voice in her ear, telling her how beautiful she was, how perfect, how much he loved her.
"I love ye," Ewan gasped against her neck. "God, Maia, I love ye so much. Mine. Ye're mine now. Forever."
"Forever," Maia echoed, and then the coil inside her snapped. Pleasure crashed over her in waves, making her cry out, making her clutch at Ewan's shoulders as her body trembled beneath him.
She heard him groan, felt him thrust once, twice more, and then he was following her over the edge, burying his face in her neck as he found his own release.
They lay tangled together afterward, breathing hard, Ewan's weight pressing her into the mattress in a way that felt perfect.
"Marry me," Ewan said suddenly, lifting his head to look down at her. "I ken it's fast, but I daenae care. I want ye as me wife, Maia. Want to make this real. Want everyone to ken that ye're mine and I'm yers. Will ye marry me?"
Maia's heart stuttered. "But, what about Laura? What did ye really say to her when she came? Willnae she come claimin' ye?"
"I told ye. I threw her off and banned her from me lands.
" Ewan's eyes were serious, intense. "But if ye need to hear it again, if ye need me to explain exactly what happened, then I'll tell ye.
She came to me study uninvited. She propositioned me.
And when I told her nae, when I made it clear I had nae interest, she straddled me lap and tried to kiss me.
That's when I shoved her off and told her if she ever tried somethin' like that again, I'd exile her family.
The whole encounter lasted maybe two minutes, and every second of it was unwanted. "
Relief flooded through Maia. "And ye really want me? Nae her?"
"I want ye." Ewan's voice was fierce. "Only ye. Always ye. So please, lass—please say ye'll marry me. Say ye'll be me wife, me lady, me everything."
Maia felt tears spill over, but they were happy tears this time. Joyful tears.
"Aye," she whispered. "Aye, I'll marry ye, Ewan Byrne. I'll be yer wife and yer lady and yer everything."
"Thank God." Ewan kissed her again, deep and thorough. "I love ye, Maia. So bloody much."
"I love ye too," Maia said, smiling through her tears. "Forever and always."
"Forever and always," Ewan echoed, and kissed her again.
When he finally pulled back, Ewan shifted to his side, pulling her with him so they lay face to face. His fingers traced idle patterns on her hip, and Maia watched his expression soften into something almost boyish.
"What are ye thinkin'?" she asked.
"That I should tend to yer injuries properly." His hand moved up to ghost over the bruise at her temple, his jaw tightening. "I was so desperate to have ye that I dinnae even clean yer wounds first. What kind of brute does that make me?"
"The kind I wanted." Maia caught his hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. "I needed ye, Ewan. Needed to feel alive and safe and wanted. The bruises can wait."
"They cannae wait much longer." But he didn't move, his thumb stroking along her bottom lip, carefully avoiding the split. "Does it hurt terribly?"
"Nae anymore." And it was true—the aches from her uncle's violence had faded to nothing compared to the pleasant soreness between her thighs, the delicious proof of what they'd just shared. "Though I suspect I'll be sore in other places come morning."
A slow, wicked smile spread across his face. "Aye, ye will. And every time ye feel it, ye'll remember ye're mine."
And in his chambers, safe in his arms, Maia finally, finally, believed she was home.