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"It's not. I just like to nettle you with it because the idea of it seems so distasteful to you. Perhaps I
should be offended?"
To her surprise, he reached out with his large hand and brushed a strand of stray blond hair from her
face. The gentle touch was so out of character for him that it raised chills on her body and made her heart
ache in tenderness.
He was a decent man when he wanted to be.
"I was worried," he admitted finally.
She fought the urge to close her eyes and savor his light touch. How could a man so large be so gentle?
"It was nice of you to come after me."
He grunted and lowered his hand away from her cheek. "What kept you?"
"I was picking flowers." She showed him her collection.
He curled his lip. "And you think that handful of weeds was worth risking your life and well-being?"
She pouted as she ran her hand over the wild flowers that released their sweet scent into the air. She
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inhaled them and let the smell remind her of her childhood days when she and her mother had spent hours
alone gathering them and tending her mother's garden.
She cradled them to her breast. "My mother has oft told me that men have sacrificed their lives and
kingdoms for a woman's smile, so why not risk the ire of a bear for a bouquet?"
"Most men are fools."
She paused at his words and the pain she heard his voice. Remembering what Sorcha had said about his
betrayal, she felt sorry for the man who had forsworn beauty in his life. "You don't think beauty is worth
sacrificing for?"
"Nay. I do not." His sincere blue eyes scorched her.
He meant that.
"But surely you didn't always feel that way?"
"I learn from my mistakes."
Her stomach tightened at what he said. She couldn't imagine such a life.
"And you've been without beauty ever since," she said wistfully. "I'm sorry for that, Ewan. Everyone
needs some beauty in his life."
Ewan wondered for a moment if she were mocking him, but one look into her guileless amber eyes and
he knew she wasn't.
She could never relate to the kind of pain he lived with. To her, the world was a kind, happy place filled
with only goodness and light.
How he wished he could live so ignorantly.
"I can't imagine living a life where nothing gives me pleasure," she said softly. "It would take a strong man
to live as you have. To get up every morning and carry on when all you can see is the gloom and misery
of the world."
"I'm not strong," Ewan confessed. He wondered why he said that. It wasn't like him to be open with
anyone. But there was something about Nora that comforted him. Something about her that made him
want to share things with her. "I was a weak-minded fool who believed a lying termagant. There's no
strength in what I do now or what I did in the past."
He took her back through the woods, toward the gypsies' camp.
"I disagree," she said as she walked beside him. "A weak man wouldn't still be alive."
"A strong man would be able to look his mother in the face." Ewan couldn't believe those words had left
his lips. Never before had he confided that secret to anyone.
Nora paused and took his hand into hers.
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Ewan stared at her tiny hand, at the long, graceful fingers that were laced with his own. His hand was
almost twice the size of hers. Her skin was pale, soft, while his was tanned and callused.
There was no softness in his life.
No grace or beauty.
In truth, there was nothing in his life at all.
"This is not the hand of a weak man," she said as she gave a light squeeze to his fingers. "You could have
left me to my own ends and yet you didn't. Even though my situation caused you pain, you came with me
rather than see me hurt. What is weak in that?"
Ewan didn't know what to say. No woman had ever said such a thing to him. No one had ever before
defended him.
She made him feel almost heroic.
How did she do it?
Lifting her hand to his lips, he kissed it gently and inhaled the soft, fragrant scent of her skin. She smelled
of the flowers she held in her other hand, of the earth and of the woman. It was a heady combination.
One that cut through him and made his entire body burn.
In that moment, she was beautiful to him. Not just in her looks, but in her being.
She was the beauty he wished he had. The beauty he would love to spend the rest of his life staring at
and holding close to his heart.
But she could never be his.
She belonged to someone else.
"Thank you," he whispered, lowering her hand.
"For what?"
"Making me feel better."
She smiled at him, and he felt an invisible fist slam into his gut.
How he wished he could keep her with him like this forever. But it wasn't meant to be. She was
promised to someone else, and like as not she had a father who was probably beside himself with panic
at her disappearance.
If he were a decent man, Ewan would head off to Lochlan's castle with her now and let his brother find
her father so that she could go home and relieve the man's worry.
Instead, he was going to spend the next few days with their untoward hosts. Not just because he wanted
to find out why he'd been taken, but because he wanted to spend more time with this woman.
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It didn't make sense.
Nora was everything he should hate. She was bold and stubborn. Vexing.
But most of all, she was enticing, and it had been so long since anyone had enticed him. An eternity since
he'd felt the molten heat of passion or desire.
He wanted her.
With every ounce of masculinity he possessed, he wanted to take her in his arms and claim her body
with his. To peel the clothes from her and explore every inch of her bare skin with his mouth.
To fan her hair out across his pillows and watch her face contort with pleasure as she came beneath him.
Yet it would never be.
She was a virtuous maid.
And he would move heaven and earth to keep her that way.
Nora held her tongue as Ewan led her back to camp. He must have washed his face right before he
came to seek her. His black curly hair was slicked back from his face and sleek. His shoulders were
broad, and yet he didn't appear as fearsome to her now as he had before. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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