Free Tangled Hearts by Heather McCollum

forever on her own, and since he was a self-proclaimed expert at removing ladies from their clothing, she nodded.
    “Yer frown is fierce,” he said as he twirled his finger for her to present her back. “And yer back is as stiff as my… sword.”
    Did the man live in a world of euphemisms and innuendos? Or did he just like to make her blush? She didn’t flame up nearly as much with the raucous crew of the Queen Siren . Maybe because they’d become brothers and uncles to her.
    “A wife doesn’t appreciate hearing that her husband knows all about getting a woman out of her skirts.”
    He laughed and leaned closer. “We aren’t married,” he whispered, his breath warm on her neck. Shivers ran down her skin, making her shoulders pinch upwards.
    “Doesn’t matter,” she snapped and walked out of his reach once his fingers reached the bottom.
    “How doesn’t that matter? We aren’t—”
    “Don’t you have horses and Searc to see to?”
    Dory moved behind the screen. She sat on the edge of the chair and after a long pause, she heard the door shut and let her shoulders slump. One by one she plucked the hooks that held her sleeves up and let them slide down her arms.
    Ewan Brody. What was it that made her so irritated when he was around? Yet she didn’t want to seem lacking in his eyes. Will teased her, too, yet she let his jabs roll off. Something about the Highlander made his opinions stick.
    Dory groaned and laid her forehead on her knees. She cared what he thought of her. Blast!
    …
    Ewan walked through the evening air toward the barns to check on Searc before bunking down somewhere. Something was bothering the lass… Not that he should really care. She was a pirate, although she’d definitely made a point before—weren’t they all pirates to survive in this world? And she was a witch, although she went to mass and prayed to God; not some fire-dancing demon. His jaw ached from frowning.
    “That bad?” Searc asked from his corner of a paddock of hay where he’d laid out his plaid. “Perhaps you’d like to switch places with me and keep Boswell company.”
    Ewan inhaled, his lips curling back at the stench of rotting flesh.
    “It seems he’s scared off all the other stable hands,” Searc said. Even the cat had gone, probably hunting. Maggie, his dog, stayed by his side.
    What a loyal companion. Maybe he should find a dog. “’Tis Dory. She seemed angry at me though I’m not sure why.”
    “Did you mention her girth?”
    “I did mention that she should eat more and she did seem upset by that.” Could she be that sensitive?
    Searc shook his head and groaned. “Did you not just tell me to stay away from the topic?”
    Ewan stood, stretching his shoulders. “So now the student is trying to teach the master.”
    “Master? I hope you didn’t call yourself that in front of her,” Searc said. “I might be young compared to you, but even I know lasses don’t like that talk.”
    Ewan shook his head. “It’s bloody not important. We will see her to London, find her a decent place to stay, and get her an audience with King Henry. But that’s it. We need to get back to Scotland before Henry and James decide to war officially and we end up prisoners in this damnable hot country.”
    “Aye, I think I will always smell rotting flesh now when I think of England.”
    “With Boswell’s stench, everyone should keep far away from here tonight. Sleep. We leave just after dawn when it is polite to say farewell to the lady, Jane.”
    Ewan walked back toward their room. It was a comfortable room that didn’t smell like a rotting corpse. In contrast it smelled like a flower garden, and it made perfect sense to sleep in it even if Dory didn’t seem inclined to share.
    He rounded a corner and nearly ran a maid down.
    “Pardon, m’lord,” she said on a gasp and blinked her almond-shaped eyes at him. She was quite bonny, curvy with her hair caught beneath a white servant’s bonnet.
    “’Twas my fault,