She had to admit, it looked quite the cozy hideaway. There was enough room for two adults to lie down, if a bit snugly. Boughs, some still holding on to their brown leaves, fanned over and around the stump, offering protection from any rain or wind that might try to bother them that night.
“Oh. I see. Yes, I suppose that does work nicely. ”
Lily shivered. The freezing water had dampened her skirts and cold was settling into her bones. “Now, shall we start the fire?”
“No, Lil’, we don ’t dare being spotted. ”
Her heart fell. Why, she thought, with the way things were going for her, had she thought this might approximate a pleasant outdoor experience?
“Those soldiers belonged somewhere, and soon somebody is going to notice them missing. ” He continued rustling about as nonchalantly as a regular man might, unpacking in a room in the Hilton.
“Nay, we’ll warm ourselves as best we can without a fire. ” Despite her earlier vows of Amazonian strength and reserve, Lily had to blush at that last statement and was happy the darkness concealed her features.
Methodically, Ewen began to rip off long bits of fabric from the hem of his shirt, which, Lily couldn’t help but note, was gradually making it shorter and shorter. Cheeks flushing anew, Lily thought that surely seventeenth -century Scotsmen had no notion of underwear, and at the rate he was shredding his top, all would soon be revealed.
He soon had a small handful of linen strips, and before she could utter any denials, he was kneeling in front of her, gently wrapping her wounded foot. She studied his hands in awe. They were large and strong, knuckles scored with scars. These hands had killed men, had been gashed during lethal swordplay, skin and bone deflecting potentially fatal slashes. And now these same hands were working gently, deftly, binding her foot just right. Ewen wrapped the linen snugly, but not uncomfortably tight. Looping it around, not one spot on the sole of her foot was left uncovered, the fabric wrapped smoothly over itself, not bunching around heel or ankle. It was clear that he had dressed many a battle wound in his time.
She just then noticed the dried blood on his neck and sucked in her breath. Leaning toward him, she pulled aside the collar of his shirt. The moon threw shimmering white light across his smooth chest. “I need to take care of this for you. ”
Oddly, Ewen didn’t put up a fuss. Rather, he looked vaguely amused, as if a child had just offered to dress his cuts. Lily wasn’t dissuaded, however. She simply snatched the remaining linen out of his hand and hobbled down to the lakeside to wet the fabric.
She worked in silence for some time, overdelicately swabbing the crusted blood from his neck and shoulders. If Ewen had a son, she thought, surely he was married. Lily couldn’t imagine what type of woman would be married to a Highland clan chief. Did she live in fear or secretly run the household? Her curiosity got the better of her, and feeling at ease with their close physical proximity, she ventured, “So, tell me about your wife. ”
Ewen looked as if he had been slapped. Grabbing the end of the bandage out of her hand he snapped, “Och, enough. ” He stood, hastily tying the fabric in a knot at his neck.
“Don’t fash me, lass. ”
He began to move abruptly around their makeshift campground, all the while grumbling unintelligibly to himself in half Gaelic, half English. Lily strained to hear but could only make out phrases like “you women …all the same… nattering glaikit lasses. ” She didn’t know what the last bit meant, but assumed it wasn’t good.
“I… I’m sorry, Ewen. I just assumed …I mean, you have a son, right? But I guess if you need a nanny maybe that means… oh. ” She hated how she always rambled when nervous. Then, under her breath, “I was just trying to make some pleasant conversation. Sorry. ”
An excruciating silence hung between them as Ewen continued to make camp. Gathering the tartan that he had dropped to the ground, he returned to the bank of the lake and proceeded, inexplicably, to wet the long swath of wool. Lily almost yelled at him to stop it—what was he thinking, soaking their only source of warmth? But looking at the angry set of his shoulders she quickly thought the better of it and bit back any protests.
As if he read her mind, without turning Ewen said, “ Stop fretting. It makes the wool warmer. If you dampen it. ” Well, it wasn ’t much, but it was a start at communication. Deep in thought, he walked slowly back up to their camp.
“Sorry, lass. I ’d not meant to get so angry. Aye, I was married once. And what a bonny lass she was. Bonny, and hell-sent. ” They had only spent a short time together, but Lily had already noted that Ewen’s brogue got thicker, with more Gaelic inflections, when speaking with emotion. Despite her desire to keep him at arm’s length, Lily couldn’t help but find it endearing, albeit more difficult to comprehend.
He reached out for his saddlebag and removed a small leather flagon. He drew a deep gulp and Lily could smell the tang of Scotch whisky. “Would you cock your wee finger with me?” Sprawling onto his side he offered her the leather flask.
Though at that moment she would’ve preferred some thing a bit more refreshing—a nice, cold beer perhaps—she accepted the drink readily. The adrenalin of the day had worn off and she thought her foot would explode from the pain pulsing from her toes up to her calf.
It was harder than she thought to manage the flask and more whisky than she intended rushed down her throat. She strangled a cough and forced herself to continue breathing. It was like drinking pure heat. This was no Dewar’s. She supposed that the days of refined sipping whisky hadn ’t yet hit Scotland. She surreptitiously wiped the tears from her eyes and the whisky from her chin and whispered a choked thanks.
Ewen smiled. If he could tell the whisky was more than she bargained for, he didn ’t let on. He stayed reclined on the tartan and took the flagon back out of her hands. Taking one more drag on the whisky, he continued, “ She died in childbirth. A sad thing, that. My John killed her, and the lad has been making my life a misery ever since.
“My grandfather had insisted on the match. My father passed when I was but a lad, so I was next in line to be laird. He said the clan needed me to marry young. His body was starting to fail him, and he knew he’d not make it another winter. My grandfather was a man of tradition, believed every clan chief needs a wife, he did. So he married me off like a horse to stud. With a wife like Mairi, though… Och, I could have done better marrying a MacKintosh, the battles we fought. ”
Brow furrowed, he was silent for a moment then continued, “She was unfaithful to me. To the clan too, you could say. No regard for honor. She lay with other men. With my tacksman. With a MacKintosh even. ” Lily could tell by the gravity in his voice that the last one was a real transgression. He looked into the distance. “ Och, but she could drive a man to madness. Smooth like silk until she had you in her palm, then she ’d laugh you right out the room. ”
Shaking his head, he continued, “She was such a bonny one. Long black hair, tiny white hands. Such a delicate lass. It’s what killed her in the end. Not made for birthing bairns. But she had my grandfather charmed. She likely warmed his bed as well. To get what she wanted. ”
Lily shivered at the thought of a pretty, young girl bedding an aged Scottish laird. She never understood how people were able to use their bodies as tools to get what they wanted.
Ewen thought he understood the look that passed over her face and he explained, “I was in line to be chief and that was an exceeding good match for her. Bedding the men she did, she cleared a number of paths for herself, I see it plain now. If anything had happened to me, she ’d have been like to find favor with the next man in line for Lochiel. ” He noted Lily’s quizzical look and added, “That’s what the Camerons call their clan chief, lass. Lochiel. I ’m the Lochiel, as my grandfather was, and John will be after I ’m gone.”
Ewen adjusted the damp tartan underneath their makeshift shelter and, with a heavy sigh, shifted to a seated position. “She wanted to be a chief’s wife, but her father hadn’t much to offer a potential husband but his daughter’s charms. Nay, all he had to offer was a sporran full of debt, I’ve since discovered. And so it was her charms that were offered to us tenfold. ” He snorted a laugh, tinged with more than a little disgust. “ She wasn’t worth the price. No lass is. ” Lily was annoyed at his poor regard for women, but curiosity won over and she let Ewen continue.
“I was just a young lad who didn’t know better, and my grandfather was an old man flattered by the attentions of a comely lass. He arranged our marriage, and she wasn’t the same after. A shrew to everyone, especially me. It’s as well I grew to see her for what she was. A tiny black heart she had. Cruel to every living thing. ”