Free Adrienne Basso by Bride of a Scottish Warrior Page B

Aileen.
    He did, however, locate what he sought. A petite female stood near the altar, her hands clasped in front of her, her head bent in prayer. Ewan could see Grace’s profile through the fine weave of her veil. Though a woman of small stature—she barely reached his shoulder—she had a stately presence and a graceful, willowy form. She reminded him of a statue he had once seen of the Virgin Mary—elegant, refined, regal. Yet Grace was not cold marble, she was warm flesh and fighting spirit.
    Weaving his way through the crowd, Ewan reached Grace’s side. Her eyes were closed, her lips moving in silent prayer. To get her attention, he put his hand on her arm. She drew away immediately, then turned to him, her gray eyes startled.
    “Sir Ewan!”
    “Good morning, Grace.”
    She turned away, but not before he saw the unease revealed in her face. Seeking to reassure her, Ewan gave her arm a little squeeze. The rosary beads clasped in her hand trembled at the gesture. Fearing he was doing little to advance his cause, he released his grip. She sighed softly, taking a step away from him. Ewan grit his teeth and resisted the strong urge to move closer to her, suspecting a show of dominating force would not be well received.
    The Mass began. Ewan tried to listen to the words, but his mind was too crowded with thoughts of the woman beside him. He went through the ritual of the service by rote, always a second or two behind. Grace, on the other hand, was nearly leading the congregation, her movements a step ahead of all the others, including the priest’s.
    Was she truly meant to live a religious life? Or had the many years of training left such a deep impression upon her that she could participate in the Mass even in her sleep?
    Pondering these thoughts kept Ewan’s mind focused, and he was therefore surprised to realize the priest was giving the final blessing. As they filed out of the chapel, Ewan took Grace politely by the elbow.
    “Come fer a ride with me this morning after we break our fast, Grace. The sky is blue, the sun is shining, and there’s nary a cloud to be seen. ’Tis a day meant to be enjoyed outdoors.”
    “I’ve work to attend,” she answered. “If ye wish to tour the castle and the outlying grounds, I’m sure my brother would be happy to oblige.”
    He kept pace easily with her quickening steps, his hand still on her elbow. She allowed it, yet he noted that she took great care not to meet his gaze.
    “I have already spent a considerable amount of time in yer brother’s company,” Ewan replied. “I’m in need of a change and ye’re much prettier to look at, especially in this bright sunshine.”
    “Not today.”
    “Tomorrow?”
    “Nay.”
    He stopped abruptly, increasing the pressure on her arm. She had no choice but to stop also, her frown indicating she was not pleased about it. “Ye promised to give me a chance,” he entreated.
    There was a flash of white in her eyes. “I never made any such promise.”
    Ewan released his grip and folded his arms across his chest. “Well, ye should have, lass. ’Tis the polite thing to do.”
    She snorted. “It is far better manners not to be badgering a helpless, defenseless woman.”
    “Mayhap. See, ’tis yet another reason fer ye to marry me. Ye can teach me all the pretty, fine manners ye like. Is that not what women enjoy most—reforming a man?”
    She rolled her eyes heavenward, but was saved from replying by the sudden appearance of Alec. Ewan smiled at his friend and motioned for him to come closer. As he introduced the pair, he noticed they were both assessing each other, though Grace performed the task with delicate subtlety, while Alec was openly brazen.
    “Tell me, good knight, have ye come to sing me Sir Ewan’s praises?”
    “Nay. ’Twould be a sour song, indeed, milady. One that could easily curdle milk.”
    “Oh?”
    “He’s a good, fine man, there’s no mistake about it. I’ve trusted him with my life more times than I